What REALLY is depression?

“What are your interests?” I was asked this seemingly casual question on a casual Monday afternoon. For most people, the answer comes naturally. “I like biking” or “I am interested in the arts” are common answers you might expect from a neurotypical person. But for those of us with Depression? It’s a dreaded question. Do you want the answer from how I was when I was before the depression hit or after it hit? Before Depression and Anxiety hit, I was a cheerful girl. I loved singing, drawing, and biking. I loved trying new things, and nothing bored me. The arts could cheer me up in an instant. Now? I don’t have a single desire to sing. I haven’t picked up my pen in month, nor do I leave the house unless required. Nothing interests me, nor do I ever want to do …anything. Depression isn’t just intense sadness. It’s not what is depicted in the movies, with the beautiful girl crying with her mascara-stained face. It sucks. You slowly lose interest in your favorite hobbies. All the colors seem to fade into bleak shades of grey. The melodies all sound out of tune. You lose motivation to do anything. You can’t get yourself to class or work. You can’t take a shower. You can’t get out of bed, or eat, or sleep. You’re stuck. Trapped, with no ability to move or speak or get help. You don’t have a desire to live, so why would you get help? You don’t want that. You are no longer living, but simply getting by. You’re making it day by day, but it’s the hardest task in the world. It’s rock bottom, but worse. Because you don’t want to rise. You’re stuck, and the only one who can help you get out is yourself.