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Different Colours

"It's like someone painted the world different colours" - a quote from a character who has just been released from an unjust prison sentence.  On paper, it looks like a revelation of joy, a brightening of possibilities.  In this instance, it explained their inability to see the good in people anymore.

Depression is very similar.  The world has no colour.  All the senses are dulled.  The world sort of ... fades away. 


The lack of vibrancy is a defining part of Depression.  It just isn't there - no matter how relatively good I might feel, the brightness of any moment doesn't shine anymore.  What this means on a daily basis, is not noticing how badly I'm feeling.  Because the dimness changes.  It's variable.  There are days things seem almost colourful, but those days are few.  Usually it's a case of finding the lightest corner of gloom.  Gradual days are the worst.

Gradual days, aren't a single day.  They're a period of incremental gloom.  So slow, I don't notice that each day is dimmer than the day before - and one day, when I haven't showered for days, and it seems impossible to get out of bed, I realize it's very dark.  Very dark.  The difference in gloom is tiny, finding a lighter place to be doesn't seem an improvement, and searching is hard. 


It takes a long time to get to the other side of the fog, and it's incredibly rare when the edges of it are visible. 

Intellectually I know that somewhere in my head, is a store-room of bright colour, a cache of sparkle, and a hoard of light.  Emotionally, Depression has a wide brush, and is painting my world grey. 



Derri.

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