Quotes About Depression

doldrums, n. The proper verb for depression is sink.

truth is, thinking about depression depresses the shit out of me.

Some people think that mental illness is a matter of mood, a matter of personality. They think depression is simply a form of being sad, that OCD is a form of being uptight. They think the soul is sick, not the body. It is, they believe, something you have choice over.

The American People in the Great Depression Freedom from Fear Part One DAVID M. KENNEDY

One of the biggest blocks to overcome in getting out of depression and apathy is that of blame. Blame is a whole subject in itself. Looking into it is rewarding. To begin with, there are a lot of payoffs to blame. We get to be innocent; we get to enjoy self-pity; we get to be the martyr and the victim; and we get to be the recipients of sympathy. Perhaps the biggest payoff of blame is that we get to be the innocent victim and the other party is the bad one.

Chronic, unrecognized anger and resentment reemerge in our life as depression, which is anger directed against oneself.

Discouragement. Defeat. Impossible. Too hard. All alone. Give up. Isolated. Estranged. Withdrawn. Cut off. Desolate. Depressed. Depleted. Unfulfilling. Pessimistic. Careless. Humorless. Meaningless. Absurd. Pointless. Helpless. Failure. Too tired. Despair. Confused. Forgetful. Fatalistic. Too late. Too old. Too young. Mechanical. Doomed. Negative. Forlorn. Useless. Lost. Senseless. Bleak. Blasé.

I spent months searching for some secret code before I realized that common sense has nothing to do with it. Hysteria, psychosis, torture, depression: I was told that if something is unpleasant it's probably feminine. This encouraged me, but the theory was blown by such masculine nouns as murder, toothache, and rollerblade. I have no problem learning the words themselves, it's the sexes that trip me up and refuse to stick.

While the builders worked on the cottage, Hugh lived in what used to be the stable but was later converted into a guesthouse, the kind you'd have if you wanted to either discourage guests or contain them in one spot while slowly depressing them to death.

He told me that his sister is clinically depressed and read Naked during a month-long visit to a psychiatric hospital. According to him, once she'd finished, she loaned it to a fellow patient, who, in turn, loaned it to someone else. The book seemed to lift people's spirits, and as a result, the hospital has made it recommended reading. I'm not sure whether I believe this, but it's extremely flattering to think my book is being passed around a German asylum.

In the grip of depression or anxiety, any affirmative step is better than paralysis. Action promotes more action; decision produces decision; living generates life.

When existential depression attacks without warning, your father dyes his hair.

I've always been depressed by flowers when they wilt, drooping their dry heads to the jar with its foul-smelling water, giving off an air of neglect, better to look at an empty jar than one with a wilted bunch of flowers.

Depression, in Karla's experience, was a dull, inert thing - a toad that squatted wetly on your head until it finally gathered the energy to slither off. The unhappiness she had been living with for the last ten days was a quite different creature. It was frantic and aggressive. It had fists and fangs and hobnailed boots. It didn't sit, it assailed. It hurt her. In the mornings, it slapped her so hard in the face that she reeled as she walked to the bathroom.

This use of the vernacular became the fundamental framework for all but one of her novels and is particularly effective in her classic work Their Eyes Were Watching God, published in 1937, which is more closely related to Henry James's The Portrait of a Lady and Jean Toomer's Cane than to Langston Hughes's and Richard Wright's proletarian literature, so popular in the Depression.

When we realize, really get to know what stinkers we are, it takes only a little depression to tip the scales in favor of suicide. - Dr. Walter Freeman (62)

The leveling down of the European man is our greatest danger. This is the prospect that depresses us. Today we see nothing that wants to become greater. We suspect that all goes ever downward, becoming thinner, more sleazy, smarter, cozier, more ordinary, more indifferent. Exactly here lies the crisis. With the fear of man, we have also lost the love of man - reverence for him, hope in him. The human prospect wearies us. What is the current nihilism if it is not that? We are tired of man.

There is in fact a category of people who get unusually close to the truth about themselves and the world. Their self-perceptions are more balanced, they assign responsibility for success and failure more even-handedly, and their predictions for the future are more realistic. These people are living testimony to the dangers of self-knowledge. They are the clinically depressed.34

There is in fact a category of people who get unusually close to the truth about themselves and the world. Their self-perceptions are more balanced, they assign responsibility for success and failure more evenhandedly, and their predictions for the future are more realistic. These people are living testimony to the dangers of self-knowledge. They are the clinically depressed.

Walt, we need to go over a few things." This had an ominous tone to it. "There was a time when this particular lifestyle had its place, the grieving widower valiantly sallying forth through a sea of depression and cardboard. This gave way to the eccentric lawman era, but now, Walt my friend, you are just a slob." I

I've got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn't do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.

Ned had a monotonous voice and he went on talking. He talked and talked and he made everything sound hopeless and depressing. I had felt miserable enough before, but when at last I managed to get rid of him I felt absolutely wretched. I finished my unpacking and then pulled back the heavy curtains. I expected to see the lights of London, pinpoints of light from lamp-posts which lined the streets and chinks of lights from the windows of neighbouring houses, but there was nothing to see at all. I

Keynesianism, if you add its flexible, muscular form during the Depression to its more rigid postwar version, lasted forty-five years. Our own Globalization, with its technocratic and technological determinism and market idolatry, had thirty years. And now it, too, is dead.

The struggle these veterans face receiving adequate care for PTSD and depression is a tragedy that needs to be addressed, which is why I cosponsored the Clay Hunt SAV Act.