It is very hard for people who are not depressed to fully understand depression. It not a “case of the Mondays” or something you can easily shake. You feel terrible all the time. It saps your will to get out of bed.
People who are not depressed will often expect an instant cure when you start on a medication. They expect you to instantly snap out of it, to get over it, to get a life as if you could snap your fingers and magically have one. I didn’t lose my ice cream on the sidewalk; it’s not as easy as that. There is nothing I can point to and say “that’s why I’m sad”.
And if you have never been down that deep dark hole, lost in the caverns of despair, you can’t possibly begin to understand the hard climb ahead. I know you want to help, but your eyes have been in the sunlight and you can’t see how deep the hole is or how far down it I am. You can’t help me find the way out if you can’t see where I am. I have to find it myself in my time at my speed.
And once I’ve found the exit, and started to adjust to the sunlight, don’t expect me to come bounding out into the sunshine all bright and shiny. I can see that it’s nice out there and I want to join you, but my eyes are still accustomed to the dark.
It may take some time to adjust, but it will happen. It’s nice out there, although at times a little frightening. Sometimes I slip back into the entrance, but never far enough from the light. And then one day I will emerge happy and hopeful and able to cope with the world that I had hidden from.