Do you find depression to be salubrious sometimes?

When you are having a ‘better’ day, one where you are not feeling so depressed, do you ever say to yourself “I really wish I wasn’t so damned happy today, I wish I was depressed right now!”?

Sometimes it is okay (or even good) to be depressed. If, like in Brave New World, we could take some soma every time we felt down, it would diminish our ability to appreciate better days. Depression becomes a problem when down days are the normal state of being.

I think I was easier to get along with when I was depressed. I mostly just let people push me around.
And it was soooo much easier than being happy.

I hope I have the gist of what you are asking @wundayatta. If I haven’t, I apologise in advance. I think we are all individuals and some of us are serious, dour, unaffectionate or any number of other things. I don’t think there is anything wrong with these types of traits being part of a person’s nature or that they must need medicating because they are this way. As I have said on this site before, we aren’t clones and we come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and mental outlooks.

If however, the individual feels unhappy with how they are feeling and experiencing their life, if they feel negatively about themselves, or are at risk of harming themselves because of those negative thoughts, then yes, perhaps they need medication. Sometimes, a person’s depression is not their natural state but a chemical imbalance and people don’t feel or indeed know they are not performing at their best and the way they feel is not their natural state. (Hope I am making sense and asking your question).

So the question is for you and for all of us really, are you happy as you are? Is it ‘you’ or do you perceive the way you feel as not being ‘you’. Do you feel medication is helping you to function more effectively and to feel comfortable and happy with your life?

I don’t think your question is attention seeking Wundy and if you need a virtual hug, you’ve got one.

Thank you, @Bellatrix. Your virtual hug does make a difference.

I think your comment helped me understand something. There is a good reason for me to feel this way, and it is something that could go away, depending on the resolution of my circumstances. It’s not endemic. But people, including my wife, seem so quick to move to the therapy/medication route, that sometimes I wonder what’s real.

Throughout my life whenever someone suggests the medication, I always have this split second instinctual thought: “Do they even like the real me?” I know it’s stupid, and that they are trying to help me, but it just seems unfair.

Yes, especially when there’s an external reason for it – you were raped and/or assaulted, were in an abusive relationship, a loved one died, you or a loved one was kidnapped, it turns out you have a fatal illness, etc. Sadness and depression is what makes the good times so sweet.

More salacious or even salivatious—it is self-bred and rarely healthy.
I am depression-experienced and therapized. One makes of it what one will.

For a while I’ve been thinking I like the darker emotions better… and struggling with if that’s really something wrong or not. Which made everything worse, because then I felt bad for not being all happyhappy.
It’s nice to know it’s just an underappreciated sort of normal?

I had a similar experience… after I got worse because the people in my life wanted me happyhappy, with the best intentions on their part, so I wanted to be for them… or maybe probably I thought they wanted me happyhappy then they wanted me in therapy because I really was worse, which made me worse still, and then to drug me up so my everything would be controlled by the meds a mask for the deeper reality.
I understand that part where it’s easier to function when you feel less-than-great about yourself, because then making mistakes doesn’t hurt, being imperfect doesn’t hurt, it’s all okay. Holding yourself up high… damn there’s a far drop. And I thought I wasn’t afraid of heights.

And also—
It’s being in the depths of the jungle or ziplining over it. The ziplining, I’ve done, and it’s fun, it’s easy… but the buzzing of the line, the uniformity of the lidded tops of the trees, the cut-in of the rope on the underneath of my thighs, the immobility of clinging on—doing that all the time? I’d go crazy; that’s not flying. And being in the forest, dark and dense as it is, there’s so much life, and so much freedom.

My only problem now is I’ve got to get myself unstuck from this mud pit that I’ve let dry and crust around me as I sat a lump. Then back to traversing the earth, and trapeezing in tree limbs.

My husband suffers with depression and I secretly think he enjoys it. Why else wouldn’t my sunny disposition rub off on him.:\

Damn you people and your big words. All I can do is throw axes with fear inducing accuracy.

Nah man, yain’t wrong for wanting attention. Everybody wants attention. Despite what they say. Haha. It feels nice, and many deserve it, and for those who don’t, if anyone can judge who does and who doesn’t, well, at least shite be learned, no?
Being in the dumps is often like finding a bouncy spring; you don’t give a fuck, so you just jump or trip on it, and enjoy the ride. Who knows, you might find something cool in the skies, or something even better when you crash back to the abyss, yeah? I guess people just adapt to whatever is given to them. No choice. Or is there? Like what? God? Pills? Don’t ask me. Unless you want beer as an answer.

I drink like a pirate, and it’s ruining me, but I’m still curious to see where it will lead me. Coffins suck for what they’re for, but they still look awesome. And maybe I won’t be taken there, not right away. I understand nothing, but who does. I have some problems, but in some creepy and obscure way, I positively nurse them because they’re me. It’s what I know. That’s not all I do know, but it’s significant enough to be mentioned. Know where I’m coming from? I think you might.
Like finding an abandoned kitten, or giving birth to a dead fetus. Okay I’m way off mark at this point I guess. Just saying shit as it comes out because your question strikes, and if I stop to think about it, I’ll just lie.

Not saying we should not strive to fix what ails us if we can, but the bad should never be dismissed. Shit rainbows if you want, but the overcast sky cannot be avoided, and will not be denied. You know that, and I personally think you’re doing a good job sometimes enjoying it. I imagine you also recognize and enjoy the positive that which you encounter. But what’s positive and what’s negative? If it was that simple, I guess people wouldn’t wonder about it so much. I just hope you don’t get obsessive about it, and become blind. Tell me, can you see? Are you blind?

My ancestors were conquered by Julius Caesar, yet, we now make awesome toilet bowls in which to shit our woes within. Also, don’t mind me, I’m pretty drunk lol.

And somewhat charming when drunk. Yeah. I get it. The jokes on us. But only if we see it’s a joke, and sometimes we don’t want jokes no matter how funny they are.

It’s that funny randomized heaviness in chest and head, and yes it kind of is bothersome and mentally painful, but it is also depressing in a more literal way. It squeezes the thoughts. It forces you down to the bed or couch. It keeps you home. It smallens your world. Depression.

Sometimes the world is too big and needs to be smallened. Sometimes it’s too overwhelming and we can’t handle it and that’s when having a handy dandy little toolkit that blackens out most of the window so all you can see is the bit in the center. Not entirely blind, my dear. I can see a bit. I can see what I have to see, but more importantly, I don’t have to see the rest.

The fuck of it is that everyone can tell. They can tell before I can what is going on. My head hurts. Maybe I should drink, too. But I hate the way booze makes my body feel. It already feels nauseous enough without artificial help.

My back hurts. My stomach hurts. My neck hurts. My head hurts. My wife keeps asking me if I’m ok (just go away, I hate pretending I’m ok). I don’t say because I don’t want to have to talk about it. There’s nothing in the fridge that looks good. There’s no one to talk to except my head, and my head isn’t a very good conversationalist. Some kind of ear thing. In one and out…. etc. Even when I talk to myself I don’t listen.

But, ha ha, I still get to write this crap on fluther and force people to at least look at the first line or two before they realize what it is and skip on down to the next… If there is a next.

Maybe I’ve had too much whine and that’s why my head feels so floozy.

Hey, I read the whole thing. :) When you feel all that you’ve described in this post, again, it’s not bad wanting attention, or at least share it. People do read it, whether they comment back or not. Some all of it, maybe some skip, but it’s out there now. It’s different in real life, and I couldn’t speak for you, because that’s based on the peeps in your life, and I can’t draw much of a picture of it like I might for a place like over here.
I’m thinking, perhaps you can answer this better than me…when you feel all shitty, the desperation of it may all act like a survival system thing; it only makes you think you enjoy it. Like the whole seeking the abyss thing, remember? Maybe at certain time beings, you just have do or think something before it all hits the fan.
Then again, I’d like to think people are more cognizant of themselves and their surroundings than that…what do you think? You seem well in tune with your emotions and mental state, so far as I can tell from here, anyways.

It can be; lovely, dark and deep, oh yes. If it’s situational, I don’t think it needs to be medicated away, unless you can’t change the situation and you’re in danger of killing yourself over it. In that case, at least temporary medication can get you through it.

Even though I’ve been medicated for years, the old depression does come back from time to time. I find that if I allow myself to really wallow in it for a day or two, it’s more likely to go away quicker than if I resist its siren call and pretend it’s not happening. If it goes on for too long, though, I want the fuck out. At that point, I’d reevaluate my situation and my meds and get on it. I lived almost half of my life dealing with deep, deep depression, and the latter half of my life mostly free of it. For myself, I can say: Life is infinitely better without depression. Infinitely.

@wundayatta I’ve suffered from multiple (sometime sever like I couldn’t get out of bed) bouts of depression. I’ve been cutting since I was 13. I think there are at least two different types of depression. Physiological and Situational. The first is obviously a chemical defect, the second is due to, I don’t know, life (which is as sysync as I know how to make it). Shit happens that we don’t know how to deal with and we don’t trust doctors or don’t know how to ask for help. So we attempt to struggle through it on our own and make due. I agree with the idea that everybody wants a quick fix, throw pills at it and it’ll go away. If it’s physiological, you need meds that don’t make people feel like zombies and therapy. If it’s situational, then you need doctors who are willing and equipped for intensive talk therapy and patients who feel like they will be helped and not just over medicated. The best patient is one who is self-motivated to become the person they want to be and brave enough to make the effort to delve into who that person actually is.

@athenasgriffin Does the question make you feel judged or put on the spot about something that your not proud of but feel lost about how to handle? I’m sorry, that was pretty personal and I shouldn’t have asked. I just don’t know how to delete the question now that I’ve posted it.