Sunday, September 04, 2005
What Depression Smells Like

Three years ago, I was diagnosed with Anxiety/Depression. This is not an unusual diagnosis for mid-twenties people lost in a culture of baby-boomers and the 'Me' generation's spawns.

I was prescribed Zoloft, and I take it to this day.

Most of the time, I don't think about the events that led to my depression. I don't think about the depression at all, because it isn't something that looms over me. Depression lurks, but if I take the drugs, it won't loom.

I mistakenly have not taken the drug in the past two days. My seroquil levels are dropping. I am anxious and moody. I stomped around this morning while emptying the dishwasher. I am disgusted with my body and my face. I want to find the largest butcher knife in the house and slice off unwanted body fat. I am angry. I am sad. I am crying for no apparent reason.

I smell strange. No, I mean, I'm smelling strange things. I'm smelling frustration. I'm smelling angst. I don't want to go to work anymore. I don't want to put up with bills. I'm angry that I've abused my credit card. I want to throw up the last two Kit-Kats I've eaten. I'm not too sure any of this is normal.

The only thing I can do when the Depression rears up is wait it out. Just wait it out, because it isn't me. Depression is the tour de force of teeth grinding, nail biting, brow furrowing behavior. Depression is its own army, and I am the hostage.

Instead, I am going to design the next tattoos I want. It is these simple activities that quell the anxiety and sadness. Today, I will not be able to go into crowded stores because the heat and smell of other people pressing around me will cause me to go into a panic attack. Today, I will not be able to buy anything because I will spaz out over money. Today, I will not be able to ride my motorcycle because I will get too angry with careless motorists and put my life in danger. Today, I will need some space before feeling better.

This is what depression smells like. It smells like inconvenience and torridness. It smells like sour milk. It smells like rotten flowers. Depression is my burden to bear, and I will bear it as far as I can until I can't take the weight. Then, I will set it down and scream out my sadness.

Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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