Depression:
noun.
feelings
of severe despondency and dejection. That hardly covers it. This
condition that affects many a person throughout the world can tear
apart lives. Mine being one of the many. First of all, I’m on the
road to recovery. I’m taking anti-depressants on a daily basis and
talk to a therapist on a weekly basis, but these treatments can’t
truly recover the years I’ve lost to this condition. Sadness is
only one way to describe it. The way it affects a person can change,
for me it was a constant low attitude with bouts of anxiety and
hopelessness dropping to near suicidal levels of thought on the
simplest of actions or words. Sadly this lifestyle simply copied
itself into my writing over the last three to four years.
I
can confidently say that my writing style has changed because of my
condition. When I think of depression I think of the nightmares I had
back in middle school. Those of a large dark cave surrounded with the
desolate ruins of a destroyed city. Standing in the center of this
cave is a rise leading to the lone, stone cold form of a standing
colossus, and with me in front looking up at it. These cold feelings
and lack of any emotion besides fear and sadness copied across into
not only my life but also my writing style.
If
I could find you examples if my past writing I would, (and I’ll
try) but before my depression my writing was creative, and lively,
filled with a passion that I can only wish for today. Even through
the paragraphs above you can see that my writing is dark, using words
like “desolate” and “suicidal”. It sets you off with a dark
tone even before I get into the main meat of the story.
Poems
were always “my thing” back in high school. I remember we had to
write a poem back in 9th grade. Freshman year of high school. I think
it was more like a short story but I tried to get by that by writing
two shorter poems. The first one I wrote, I remember as being dark,
using imagery similar to that used in traditional horror.
You
see something move
shift
in the dark
you
feel yourself slip
slip
closer to insanity
Something
snaps
as
the fog rolls in
encouraged
by your fear
slipping
closer to insanity
Running,
Running
your
heart thumps as if trying to free itself
as
the fog rolls in covering you like a blanket
as
you slip closer to insanity
Tiring,
tiring
you
fall to the ground
shaking
as the fog engulfs your mind
consumed
by insanity
That
was my first poem, I remember writing that when I was 15. As you can
see, that poem is generally pretty dark, frankly I don’t remember
the thoughts I had while I wrote this but it’s pretty easy to see
that it’s possible this was the beginning. The second poem I wrote
was in response to my teacher telling me to write a second one to
share.
The
sun sinks below the horizon
sinking
into the ocean
soon
the last light dwindles
and
slowly goes out
silence,
till the moon moves from hiding
to
begin soaring across the starry sky
and
the sounds of the night
shatter
the silence
an
owl hoots
a
wolf howls at the moon
and
the light of a firefly
sparkle
in the shadows
a
moth, the color of emerald
emerges
from the leaves of a tree
glittering
as if stars are caught in its wings
glowing
with moonlight
the
waves wash against the beach
seemingly
insignificant till midnight
when
it explodes with life
as
if trying to impress the moon
soon
puddles of light spot the surface
trying
to imitate the stars
and
the waves grow calmer
till
they nearly stop
as
the moon disappears into the ocean
and
the first light breaks the shadows
the
symphony of sounds and lights cease
and
once again the world laps into silence
Comparing
the second to the first poem you can see that. right off the bat.
it’s not nearly as dark. The imagery is whimsical and calm.
bringing forth images of calm nights and flowing waves. A far cry
from the dark imagery of the first poem. Strangely enough, I remember
spending an entire day on the second poem and I never thought it was
very good. At the time it felt like I wasn’t putting any emotion
into this piece. I believe that first poem to be the beginning signs
of my depression.
The
more I continued into my highs school years the more I feel like I
was lost. I don’t remember any of my second year, and I got worse
and worse grades as the years continued on. Finally I got help
writing from Kirstin down at The Old Boar, a study hall just down the
street from the high school. I can easily say that those were some of
the best essays I’ve ever written.
Moving
on to the end of high school, I got through the last of my classes
and I don’t really remember having to write many poems or short
stories besides one in particular. I have it here printed out beside
me, basically it’s a short story about a woman and a man where the
woman is kept in this house instead of being let free. At the time,
this was me trying to put what I was feeling at the time into words.
That story was before I actually got diagnosed with depression, that
actually happened during the summer between the last year of high
school and the first year of college.
I’ll
skip over that first year of college because literacy wise it was
pretty uneventful. I wrote a few short stories in my own time which I
was never happy with. I had a few essays assigned but I wasn't
getting help from Kirstin and I never really put much thought into
them. This probably worked to give me my worst year of depression.
Luckily all’s not doom and gloom. This past summer I reconnected
with friends and decided on moving over to Olympic so keep close to
home. I also started on anti-depressants and am hoping to recover. I
just hope that this experience will give me the ability to write
better poetry and that hopefully distancing myself from my depression
will allow me to write better in the future.
Thanks
for reading.
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