Nigel 
November 26th, 2009Feeling a bit better than yesterday. Mild fever gone, breathing much more easily. Today life is easier to handle. I may even have the energy to edit this article before posting it 
But I’m still badly depressed, although a high dose of antidepressant is now taking the edge off it. But there have been times when I wasn’t on an effective medication. I pushed myself. How? Why?
Why?
I've collapsed. The world is passing me by. I've nothing left so why bother?
What’s the point of making an effort? I just want to lie down and wait for the end.
I have no energy. I don’t want to do anything. There’s no way I can ever enjoy life again.
Leave me alone!
Why should I even thinking of trying the impossible?
Because you’re a human being still capable of having a life. And because your damaged brain is lying to you: it is possible!
One of the founders of NLP was being shown round a psychiatric hospital by a friend. They were chatting happily. When they entered a new area all the staff turned to glare at them and they realised everyone else was either silent or communicating in defferential whispers.
“What’s going on?”
“Not so loud please.”
“Why not?”
“Quieter! It’s the lady over there. She’s so depressed she’s become catatonic. It’s important we not disturb her more than absolutely necessary.”
“How long has she been in this state?”
“Weeks.”
Sorry, can’t remember if the visitor was Bandler or Grinder but he went over to chat with the woman. She sat motionless, staring at nothing, face drooped in sadness.
“Hi there.”
No response. Not a flicker.
Her dress was not full length. He reached forward, grabbed a leg hair from six inches below the hem, and yanked it out.
No response.
He found another hair showing just below the hem and yanked.
Her body gave a slight tremor.
“I’m going to keep doing this till you say hi back to me.”
This time he pushed the edge of her dress up a few inches to find another hair.
Her face changed slightly. Having your leg hairs pulled out one by one is hardle the Spanish Inqusition, but it’s not without pain either.
He reached higher still and pulled out another hair.
Her head moved slightly. “Stop doing that.”
“You haven’t said hi yet.” He pulled out another hair.
“I said stop doing that. It hurts.” Her face was more animated now, though still depressed.
“Say hi.”
My understanding is that was the start of an at least partial recovery.
When we’re very depressed everything feels too much.
Once many years ago Jenny withdrew into an almost catatonic state. She would not respond to the doctors or nurses at the hospital. I visited a florist and asked for the most aromatic flowers they had in stock. I bought an attractive vase I knew she would like a lot once well. Before going into the side room where she was lying – they didn’t want her disturbed – I put the flowers i the vase with water. Then I took them in, thrust them under her nose and told her to smell them. She did. “Aren’t the colours beautiful?” She focussed her eyes on the flowers and the first hint of a smile came onto her face. “Shall I put the flowers here right next to you where you can smell their scent?” She nodded.
That was the beginning of recovery. We hadn’t won the war, but we had won a battle.
In her book I reviewed here Anne Sheffield describes one chronically depressed man who often cannot even get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes he responds to his wife shouting at him, but if his son is dealing with the situation there’s no argument. The son just upends the mattress. And the amazing thing is, once he’s out of bed he’s more able to take the next step.
Why 1 : because you can
I now know that however depressed I am my mind is lying to me. It tells me I cannot do anything. It tells me I have no energy. It tells me there is nothing I can ever enjoy again so why bother. All of these are blanket generalisations, and false. The first two are out and out lies. The third may be true in the sense that until we get the right medication we may not actually feel any pleasure whatever we do, but overall it’s false. We can improve, and if we’re on suitable tablets we can fell a little better today.
Even if your brain is currently incapable of registering pleasure you still have the energy and ability to do some things. Okay, not as much as when you’re well, but a bit.
Why 2 : because it’s a start on the right road
Whether or not doing stuff can feel at all good today you need to take some responsibility for your own rehabilitation. Okay, I know how tough the first few steps are, but ultimately no one else can take them for you (although your son might tip you out of bed).
Part of living with depression is building an armoury of habits. Once you’ve done something difficult several times it becomes easier. But you have to do that first time. It’s hard, but somewhere inside there you want to feel better. You can’t snap out of it. Of course not. But you can do one tiny thing today. You have that much energy.
Why 3 : because it might feel just a tiny bit not so bad
How do you know nothing can feel good today? Because your temporarily damaged brain is telling you so, but it lies about many things when you’re depressed. How can you really know if today might be the first day you start to feel just for a few seconds not quite so bad if you don’t try?
We’re not talking running a marathon. We’re talking maybe just getting out of bed, or just rinsing your face with clean water, or just moving a few feet to where the sun can shine on your face.
Time’s up for today and again I’ve not been able to edit, so this is the raw first draft. I’ve got stuff I now feel up to doing. Back tomorrow with some how.