charles darwin on depression

he would want us dead. there’s no doubt about it. especially back in his day, mental illness was a discrepancy of weakness, its description and stigmatic meaning deeply flawed. if you were down in the dumps, your industrial companions would bound over your limp body and become heir of everything you worked for, but lost due to an imbalance of negativity.

i mean, not to be an advocate of satan, but has it changed? there’s an abundance of help, but i’m still skeptical about people’s heuristics. you don’t talk about mental illness on a first date. until we can reach that understanding, i’ll remain guarded in what i give and what i take.

on a similar note, if we associate disabilities of the conscious with poor performance, why don’t we do that with diet? you don’t mention an obsession with chick-fil-a and subsequently get bombarded with awkward stares and uncomfortable banter, even though a junk-food diet implicates a similarly downward-sloping function of the body.

peering at the positives, maybe i’m one of the lucky ones. my battles (for the most part) remain on the inside, sheltered from judgement and insult. i have the ability to blend in with the general population, if i rarely (actually often) choose to do so, despite hampering incessancies of death. other more physical ailments lack that incognito facade.

did you believe the previous paragraph? i didn’t think so. most likely, the interior manifests itself into an exterior, still-framed mold of behavior. i still walk stiffly, avoid eye contact, and blare music in public spaces. it’s not a direct tell, but i’d wager i stick out like a sore thumb compound-fractured in the emergency room.

the problem here isn’t the snickering passes and comments made by onlookers. the trouble is contrived from the restraint bounded on of all our sick-in-the-head buddies. the inability to express oneself, converse about personal current events, answer inquiries honestly, explain frequent doctor’s appointments, rejoice freely over a steady streak of okay days, reply truthfully to “how was your day”, and find others in a similar boat transforms this pet peeve into an epidemic. the sum of those factors is isolation, and depression is turned on by loneliness (which quite frankly is completely reasonable so ponder that query).

to recap, the general throwaway attitude toward a cold, east-coast-rocky perception of this dimension is not the issue. it’s the postponed effect imposed on patients that’s hindering our road to recovery. the healing waters of dialogue can completely reinvigorate an individual’s will to live. in opposition, its shutdown inversely accelerates the doom strung out on pain and suffering. you’d like to soothe the sharpness of your friend’s battle? just straight up discuss, debate, delineate, and dig into that perpetually challenging conversation they have with themselves, morning and night. they’ll be pleasantly grateful for a safe opening to speak frankly about such clandestine memorandums.

i claim full responsibility for any errors in this prescription of social medicine. but at least knock on the door before you evict its residents. chances are, if you upheave the topic of charles darwin on depression to someone who’s dealt with it, you’ll have plenty of questions for a second date.

– D K T


life ends. why pretend

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