Ziggy Baitz (my dear friend from Oz, wrote this SIX years ago). I felt this SHOULD b shared.
Ziggy = Female

"Why do you suffer depression?" "I don't know, I just do."

Despite the efforts of health advocates and government initiatives to encourage awareness and understanding of mental illness, depression is still the single, most discriminated against health issue in the world today. It is a life- threatening illness, but unfortunately, not taken seriously enough.

Throughout history, people with mental illness have been hidden away in institutions, 'put away, out of sight and out of mind.' Pun intended. Even the name of these institutions has changed several times over the years to allay the fears of both sufferer and probably, to a higher degree, the general public. People branded as insane were put into the infamous mental institution, 'Bedlam,' some 100 years ago. These places have been referred to as 'loony bins,' 'lunatic asylums,' 'nut and mad houses,' mental hospitals or institutions, and with some modernisation, psychiatric hospitals and/or institutions. In the 1970s, they became known as 'acute medical' hospitals. That way, there was no indication of the type of medicine practised for the patients hidden inside.

Whatever names have been given to these places for the mentally ill, and no matter how treatments have changed, the name-calling never has. Nut-case, fruit cake, loony, loon or just plain lunatic, crazy, mad, loopy, crackers. The list goes on. Even television and radio commercials can and do advertise their upcoming sales as being 'sheer madness', using euphemisms like 'Crazy J's', or, K*n Blah 'has gone mad,' as we see him wrapped in a straight jacket, a parrot on his shoulder and patch over his crossed eye. This kind of representation continues on without a whimper of compassion for the mentally ill. Worse, they are ridiculed.

The depressive will most often be asked, 'what caused you to feel this way?' Losing a loved one, going through divorce or enduring chronic illness are just some situations that are very likely to cause depression. These depressions are natural, understood and therefore empathised with . . . as long as it goes away after a short while.

I am not referring to this kind of reactive depression, but to those who suffer endogenous depression, the kind that descends for no apparent reason, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, anxiety, panic attics and other forms of mental illness that don't go away after what's considered to be a healthy amount of time. For many, it does not go away at all.

'Snap out of it,' the sufferer is told.
'Get a hobby,' is a very popular suggestion.
'Have a nice cup of tea, that will make you feel better.'
'Take a walk.'
'You need to get busy.'
'Get over it.'
'There are plenty of people worse off than you, so pull yourself out of it.'

Again, another endless list of suggestions to get you off your bum and into the real world. All the above ought to take your mind off your problems, right? Not right. If one is depressed, one cannot do these things and is lucky to be able to simply get out of bed, often for days, let alone put the kettle on to make a cup of tea.

I feel qualified to say these things having suffered severe and chronic depression for some 40 years. It's a lonely, frightening, isolating and alienating world.

Something rather wonderful happened to me four years ago. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. A life threatening illness people understand! The support was overwhelming and miraculous. When I would have a depressive episode, those around me put it down to my having cancer. I kept this little joke to myself as selfishly, I drank in the sympathy and support I had never received when depressed. I was so happy to be given the loving attention and get-well wishes.

Nobody suggested I 'snap out of it,' or 'find a hobby.' Nobody would even consider me 'taking a walk.' I was not well enough, and certainly the expectation, indeed, requirement to get in the least bit busy, or think about other people who are worse off than myself in order to 'get over it [the cancer],' was suggested. There were plenty of offers to 'have a nice cup of tea' to make me feel better, but I wasn't expected to make it myself. It was the offer of someone making me that cup of tea that had me feeling very much better, not the tea itself.

"Why did I get breast cancer"? "I don't know, I just did."
Why do I get depressed? "I don't know, I just do."

- January 2006