And another woman:

Almost continuously depressed for more than twenty years...That was the story Joan told me when she first consulted me. She was in her early forties, twice married and twice divorced. She had a child from her first marriage who was now away at college. Joan lived alone, but this didn't trouble her. She was disturbed, however, by a lack of desire to do anything and by the loss of interest in her friends. She found it painful to be with people, even those she had known for many years. She felt that her life was empty and meaningless.(5)

A mother whose children have grown up:

Recently a middle-aged woman presented herself... Every day, she says, is a struggle just to keep going. On her bad days she cannot even bring herself to get out of bed, and her husband comes home at night to find her still in her pajamas, with dinner unprepared. She cries a great deal; even her lighter moods are continually interrupted with thoughts of failure and worthlessness. Small chores such as shopping or dressing seem very difficult and every minor obstacle seems like an impassable barrier. When I reminded her that she is a good-looking woman and suggested that she go out and buy a new dress, she replied, "That's just too hard for me. I'd have to take the bus across town and I'd probably get lost. Even if I got to the store, I couldn't find a dress that would fit. What would be the use anyway, since I'm really so unattractive?"...

Up until last fall she had been vivacious and active, the president of her suburban PTA, a charming social hostess, a tennis player, and a spare-time poet. Then two things happened: her twin boys went away to college for the first time, and her husband was promoted to a position of much greater responsibility in his company, a position that took him away from home more often. She now broods about whether life is worth living, and has toyed with the idea of taking the whole bottle of antidepressant pills at once.(6)

A college girl who "had everything":

Nancy entered the university with a superb high- school record. She had been president and salutatorian of her class, and a popular and pretty cheer- leader. Everything she wanted had always fallen into her lap; good grades came easily and boys fell over themselves competing for her attentions. She was an only child, and her parents doted on her, rushing to fulfill her every whim; her successes were their triumphs, her failures were their agony. Her friends nicknamed her Golden Girl.

When I met her in her sophomore year, she was no longer a Golden Girl. She said that she felt empty, that nothing touched her anymore; her classes were boring and the whole academic system seemed an oppressive conspiracy to stifle her creativity. The previous semester she had received two F's. She had "made it" with a succession of young men, and was currently living with a dropout. She felt exploited and worthless after each sexual adventure; her current relation- ship was on the rocks, and she felt little but contempt for him and for herself...

She was majoring in philosophy, and had a marked emotional attraction to Existentialism: like the existentialists, she believed that life is absurd.(7)

Personal Accounts of Depression

Now here are some autobiographical descriptions of depressive states and personalities. If you have become frustrated by people who have never been depressed pooh-poohing the pain you are suffering - which often happens - show them these descriptions.

Perhaps the most famous depression is that of Hamlet: Oh...that the Everlasting had not fixed His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! Oh, God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of the world!

The Psalms contain some of the most affecting cries of pain that have been written. Consider Psalm 22, lines 2 and 3:

My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken me, And art far from my help at the words of my cry? O my God, I call by day, but Thou answerest not; And at night, and there is no surcease for me.

Psalm 22, lines 7 and 8:

But I am a worm, and no man; A reproach of men, and despised of the people. All they that see me laugh me to scorn; They shoot out the lip, they shake the head:

Psalm 22, lines 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19.

I am poured out like water, And all my bones are out of joint; My heart is become like wax; It is melted in mine inmost parts. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; And my tongue cleaveth to my throat; And Thou layest me in the dust of death. For dogs have encompassed me; A company of evil-doers have enclosed me; Like a lion, they are at my hands and my feet. I may count all my bones; They look and gloat over me. They part my garments among them, And for my vesture do they cast lots.

Psalm 102, lines 4, 5, and 6:

For my days are consumed like smoke, And my bones are burned as a hearth. My heart is smitten like grass, and withered; For I forget to eat my bread. By reason of the voice of my sighing My bones cleave to my flesh.

And Psalm 13, lines 2, 3, and 4:

How long, O Lord, wilt Thou forget me for ever? How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, Having sorrow in my heart by day? How long shall mine enemy be exalted over me? Behold Thou, and answer me, O Lord my God; Lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death; Bertrand Russell described his youthful depression:

I was not born happy. As a child, my favorite hymn was: "Weary of earth and laden with my sin." At the age of five, I reflected that, if I should live to be seventy, I had only endured so far, a fourteenth part of my whole life, and I felt the long-spread-out boredom ahead of me to be almost unendurable. In adolescence, I hated life and was continually on the verge of suicide, from which, however, I was restrained by the desire to know more mathematics.8