I am back to being depressed…I doubt if I have clinical depression, which is thought to be a mental illness. I am sure I need to get my head serviced…But having said that, I somehow, in a strange sometimes-you-love-things-you-hate-the-most way, love being depressed. Being depressed makes me self centered. It makes me feel that my happiness and out-of-depression is the most important thing in life. It makes me empathize with people who are deeply depressed and are contemplating suicide.
When I am depressed I am reminded: “death is the ultimate truth, an inevitable part of life and is in its own way a moment to rejoice”. It makes me restless. No amount of sleep makes me rested; I still look tired and restless. At least my eyes say so.
It makes me theoretical. I see being part of the cosmos. I feel I have been in existence all throughout and would continue to live through infinity.May be as a stone, or dust.
When depressed, things like money or wealth cease to hold their perceived significance. The feeling sinks that no amount of wealth can bring that feeling of security in my life. I start to wonder if true happiness is a feeling of security ? Why do I feel so insecure? Why do I feel as if I have no-one? Will more wealth bring more security? Will I need body guards, to prevent depressions from grabbing me?
Another interesting feeling when depressed is the feeling that world has no future. It feels as if world would end very soon, perhaps due to our own actions. World would have no petrol in next fifty years. We would have no water to drink, some nuclear power would attack another nuclear country. World would not hold for more than a hundred years. It all would end very soon. Yes, Depression makes me think this way, though rationale says otherwise.
But the worst feature of being depressed is the feeling that I am worthless. I am insignificant. Each of the nearly 6 billion humans are important to the world, except me. I feel as if noone loves me or is concerned about me. Everything is just a big, well scripted drama. Everyone has fractional memories, noone has time for me.I am just a part of a huge crowd, moving in certain path, though purposeless and devoid of any motif.
Am I the only one who gets depressed on and off?or am i too open and over-honest in admitting? Does it happen to you as well? Or am i passing through mid-life crisis?