Depression Understood Forums

Often times I forget how pretty the view is from my window. It is dusk now, the northwestern hills of the valley silhouetted against a faded blue, melting down into a golden glow above the tree-line. Life in a northern town. Truth is, the shutters have been closed tight for weeks, maybe even months....

It's very difficult to articulate, but I think when you have a particularly good time (especially if it's amid an otherwise darker period in your life), returning to what is normal for you (in my case, I'm referring to stretches of despondency) just creates a clash between two very disparate emotion...

You didn't mention it, so I guess your silence means "No, I don't know of any jobs for male gigolos," which is total b.s. since you are allegedly from NYC, obviously 'swimming' with said openings. We've only just virtually met, and now all trust has been ruined. (I'm supposed to insert the...

Hi Tilly, and thank you for responding and also for the compliment. I am a fledgling writer, but am starting to really enjoy the work. I've been considering blogging about depression for some time now, but as you related, sometimes one has to be quite guarded. Currently I am working on concepts for ...

Adventures in Sleep, Stigma and the Wonders of Prozac Spring, 2013 Napa, California My pulse is racing and there is panic in the air. Where I’m supposed to be and what just happened are whizzing through my head like sped-up, Saturday morning cartoons. I am trying to slow down but the adrenaline is w...

If I were writing in some lonely cafe, with battered, faux leather booths and splinters of cracked white paint in the corners, then I could at least imitate faux romanticism. But I’m here, in a clean but commercialized sinkhole of obesity, where $1.59 chili and crackers have kept me alive on too ma...

Thank you. I have to give all of the credit to Robert Lowell, since it's a riff (if not a rip-off) of a section of, "Day by Day." We share troubled thoughts in common, but my effort was pale imitation (and an ode) to the poet: But sometimes everything I write with the threadbare art of my ...

Daemons of Lowell Admonition in an endless loop, a madness borne of symmetry and order. Reason destroying reason, and yet the finely laced circuit is all my own, fearsome but true. Removed from the hunt yet paralyzed by fact, and trapped, inert. Yet why not say what happened?