One difference between sadness and depression is that, while sadness apprehends itself as a contingent and temporary state of affairs, depression presents itself as necessary and interminable: the glacial surfaces of the depressive’s world extend to every conceivable horizon. In the depths of the condition, the depressive does not experience his or her melancholia as pathological or indeed abnormal: the conviction of depression that agency is useless, that beneath the appearance of virtue lies only venality, strikes sufferers as a truth which they have reached but others are too deluded to grasp. There is clearly a relationship between the seeming `realism’ of the depressive, with its radically lowered expectations, and capitalist realism.

I have struggled with mental illness most of my life, but I didn't always know the names of the conditions I suffered. Until well into my adulthood, I wasn't even comfortable with the idea of mental illness, much less that I could have it.

I sometimes liken my understanding of my health issues to peeling layers from an onion. Major depressive disorder came first, then anxiety disorder. Then I discovered I have an estrogen deficiency (enough that I am basically infertile) and that had a huge impact on my mood. I'm still trying to figure out the cause for the deficiency, but I may well uncover further layers as I pursue a diagnosis.

In this channel I will be writing a great deal about mental illness as I experience it, and the impact it has on my life and relationships. (All persons I mention in these musings will be aliased to protect their identity.) I hope that my words will give insight into what it is like to live with depression and anxiety, and clarify that these are managed conditions, not easily shrugged away or cured.