I am sad; or, how my language sometimes says more or less than I feel.


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I am sad; or, how my language sometimes says more or less than I feel.


				<![CDATA[<a href="http://www.freeimages.com/photo/1099025" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Original here</a>]]>

Today, I am sad.

When I say I am sad, I mean that my depres­sion has increased notice­ably and maybe even a lit­tle bit alarm­ing­ly.

I have read peo­ple say­ing how they hate when depres­sion is described as sad­ness, because it’s so much more than that, and some­times sad­ness isn’t even real­ly a part of it. And I sup­pose that’s true. I don’t begrudge them that frus­tra­tion with lan­guage.

When I say I am sad, it’s because I don’t real­ly have words to explain what’s hap­pen­ing. It’s because it’s eas­i­er for me to say, “I am sad” than it is to explain what I actu­al­ly mean.

And, if I’m hon­est, it’s because say­ing “I am sad” is eas­i­er than own­ing to myself how bad things can get. Have got­ten. Will get again. It’s my way of down­play­ing some­thing that is all-encom­pass­ing and over­whelm­ing and fright­en­ing and sti­fling and mad­den­ing and exhaust­ing and dev­as­tat­ing.

An acquain­tance once described me as some­one who always uses superla­tives. I don’t like you, I adore you. I don’t dis­like math, I abhor it with every fiber of my being. I am not hap­py, I am jubi­lant. I am not annoyed, I am frus­trat­ed beyond belief.

I am that per­son who has dis­tort­ed lan­guage in the extreme, so that tru­ly extreme things have no words left to define them. They’ve been all used up in my triv­i­al­i­ties.

So when some­thing extreme hap­pens, even some­thing that oth­ers can­not see because it is an inde­fin­able but pow­er­ful and fright­en­ing shift with­in myself…I have no words. Only small words that some­one who is not me might use to describe a non-hap­pen­ing in their life.

And so today, I am sad.

I don’t have any oth­er way left to me to describe it.


Just a note: there is no need to be wor­ried about me. Today is just anoth­er part of the cycle of depres­sion for me. I am okay. Or rather, I’m not okay — but that’s okay.

Posted in Fat Girl,