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Depression Quotes

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Depression Quotes

“At that time, I well remember whatever could excite - certain accidents of the weather, for instance, were almost dreaded by me, because they woke the being I was always lulling, and stirred up a craving cry I could not satisfy. One night a thunder-storm broke; a sort of hurricane shook us in our beds: the Catholics rose in panic and prayed to their saints. As for me, the tempest took hold of me with tyranny: I was roughly roused and obliged to live. I got up and dressed myself, and creeping outside the basement close by my bed, sat on its ledge, with my feet on the roof of a lower adjoining building. It was wet, it was wild, it was pitch dark. Within the dormitory they gathered round the night-lamp in consternation, praying loud. I could not go in: too resistless was the delight of staying with the wild hour, black and full of thunder, pealing out such an ode as language never delivered to man - too terribly glorious, the spectacle of clouds, split and pierced by white and blinding bolts.”

“Three a.m. is prime time for the soul. Programming should start any minute, and it's hard to tell what'll be on this time, so is it any wonder you're breaking into a sweat? Sometimes they broadcast anxiety, on weekends it's depression, and then there's the big hit--that feeling that makes your whole body tremble and your throat close up. It's not happiness. If it were happiness, you would know. You've read enough about happiness to know that it shouldn't be anywhere near this painful.”

“Understanding With addiction at his door step at times, depression rushing through guided by the grace of God understanding what is true. God revealed an understanding the poet listen and he prayed people came from distant places to read, deciding that they’d stay. The man received true purpose knowing God would light his way the people help the poet as he knelt down to pray. The passage of his soul this wonderful shade of blue guided by the grace of God the poet writes for you.”

“Laughter has got to be the single healthiest activity one can perform. Just think how healthy you would be if you could sincerely laugh at that which now oppresses you.”

“The typical image of a depressed, lazy and tired person is someone hunched over and inert. Often, the assumption is that if one had more enthusiasm and inspiration, he would then stand up straight and move. In many cases, this equation is backward. But, as with everything related to one’s physicality, balance is the key. An overly erect and rigid posture may convey confidence and power to some, but it also causes a subtle accumulation of tension and rigidity on various levels, including psychological and emotional.”

“When you come out of the grips of a depression there is an incredible relief, but not one you feel allowed to celebrate. Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again, and with shame and vulnerability when you see how your illness affected your family, your work, everything left untouched while you struggled to survive. We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker … but as survivors. Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from coworkers who congratulate them on making it. Survivors who wake to more work than before because their friends and family are exhausted from helping them fight a battle they may not even understand. I hope to one day see a sea of people all wearing silver ribbons as a sign that they understand the secret battle, and as a celebration of the victories made each day as we individually pull ourselves up out of our foxholes to see our scars heal, and to remember what the sun looks like.”

“And that fear I'd felt, the disembodying confusion, seemed to be a drug I was now addicted to, because moving through the ordinary world- watching CNN, reading the Times, walking to Sant Ambroeus to have a coffee at the bar- made me feel exhausted, even depressed. Perhaps I was suffering from the same problem as the man who'd sailed around the world and now on land, facing his farmhouse, his wife and kids, understood that the constancy of home stretching out before him like a dry flat field was infinitely more terrifying than any violent squall with thirty-foot swells.”

“The self- image model of happiness … is an approach to happiness that consists of three actions: (1) cultivating a self- image or story that gives us feelings of love and belonging and meaning and purpose, (2) getting the important people in our lives to tell that story about us, and (3) trying to embody that story more fully. When we’re able to manage these three tasks, we’re happy. When we’re struggling to manage them, we’re anxious. When we fail to manage them, we fall into depression or addiction or illness.”

“Pain will present itself when it needs to. It will arise organically when you're in it, but you're not obligated to bring pain into this now when it's not naturally here. You don't need to wallpaper the present moment with suffering in order to prove that it matters.”

“What is guilt? People feel guilty when they think they have acted immorally or have hurt someone and worry that they may lose that person's favor. Guilt motivates a child to behave better toward a parent for fear of losing the parent's love. Like fear, guilt also has a maladaptive sibling, whose name is depression. Depression occurs when a person attributes guilt to him or herself and perceives it as a permanent condition, as opposed to being situational and absolvable.”

“I get a prompt about using my Dissociative Cognition System. It takes considerable effort to make even that decision, but I manage to give my systems the OK and immediately I can step back from the crushing burden of misery, cut off from certain aspects of my own biochemistry so that I can function and make rational decisions. It was an essential mod, for someone who was going to be on their own for long periods of time without any social contact. My emotions are still out there, and I can get fascinating readouts about what that locked-away part of me is actually feeling, good, indifferent, bad, worse, but it doesn't touch me unless I choose to open the door again. It's a fine line, I suspect, between useful logic and that pathological numbness that true depression can often lead to, where doing or wanting anything seems like climbing uphill.”

“The same sensitivity that opens artists to Being also makes them vulnerable to the dark powers of non-Being. It is no accident that many creative people--including Dante, Pascal, Goethe, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Beethoven, Rilke, Blake, and Van Gogh--struggled with depression, anxiety, and despair. They paid a heavy price to wrest their gifts from the clutches of non-Being. But this is what true artists do: they make their own frayed lives the cable for the surges of power generated in the creative force fields of Being and non-Being. (Beyond Religion, p. 124)”

“I learned that there is healing in expressing the ugly ... Sometimes the only way to pull the weeds inside your soul is to vomit out your vitriol. The exorcism of deeply harbored pain eased my feelings of anxiety. It tempered the physical illnesses bred by emotional pain and taught me just how tied one's mental and emotional health is to their physical state. There is a lot of unseen optimism beyond the murky depths of my darker musings. Smiles and laughter and joy and intimacy have grown in the empty spaces left by things long-held but finally released. And while the tsunamis and the waves still sometimes break against the quieting waters of my soul, I am learning to ride them with more grace and less water in my lungs.”

“right now, i feel i am someone who is cold, insecure, nervous, idle. i am not the person i dream of being. i want to be warm and joyful, like i used to be before i decided i was too fucked up. i crave harmony in my relationships—i want to be better at considering others’ pain, and understanding their points of view without making snap judgments. i want to be patient. i want to be the free spirit i know that i am, not limited by my anxiety or depression.”

“The darkness in me could not stand the light any longer. It wanted to escape, vanish without a trace to a place where it could not be seen. But I could not let it happen; I could not let it run, I’m giving it no choice. It was going to ride itself out and face the truth it doesn’t want to know. It was to face itself in the mirror of hope, of despair. I gave the darkness no choice. It was to turn back into the light.”

“Rain is a lullaby heard through a thick, isolating blanket of clouds. It is the tinkling harp of water droplets; a moist breath whistling through willow reeds; a pattering beat background to the mourner's melody. Rain is a soft song of compassion for the brokenhearted.”

“Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33)”