I remember what it felt like, to be sure that death was better.

Some folks think depression is about pain. Lack of motivation. A spell or phase to “snap out of”.

Sometimes they're full of love, a deep desire to help. Sometimes they're full of contempt, full of righteousness. Sometimes they see a depressed person as a problem to be fixed.

These folks don't understand. They can't. If they did, they couldn't love, couldn't help. They wouldn't know contempt nor righteousness, for both require engagement. To see a problem worth fixing is to see anything worth anything.

No, depression isn't about pain. Pain would be a relief.

Depression isn't a problem. A problem would be interesting.

It’s nothing to snap out of, because for the depressed person there’s nothing to snap into.

Imagine you are the lone inhabitant of a small asteroid. It has all the life support required for you to stay alive indefinitely, floating alone through space. The sky is featureless, a blank canvas of nothingness. No stars appear, because a nearby Black Hole consumes all light. It will consume you as well. You and your asteroid drift slowly towards the inevitable destiny, that is to be crushed into oblivion. The anticipation means you get to experience being crushed into oblivion right now. And the end will simply be more of the same.

Depression is The Void. The never-ending abyss.

I remember what it felt like, drifting in The Void. If you can feel anything at all, you feel trapped. There's no escape from a Black Hole.

People might send messages to my asteroid. They might tell me:

“Things will get better.”
The Void offers no evidence whatsoever that this is even possible.

“Take care of yourself.”
Why?

“Seek help.”
Sound advice.

But if help isn’t even conceivable to me, what would have to be true for me to seek it?

Someone would have to visit me on my asteroid. They would look around, and see for themselves. They would feel the hopelessness too—but they wouldn’t be hopeless.

Instead they would keep visiting. They might not say much—there’s really not much to say. Maybe they’d hold out their hand, and I wouldn’t take it, because why? But if they kept doing it, without pressuring me, just dropping by, and seeing for themselves, and holding out their hand. If they kept doing that, then maybe one of those times, I might take it, because why not?

If you’re someone who loves someone in The Void, you might feel pretty helpless yourself. Know that you matter. Simply being there can be the only thing that does matter.

I remember what it felt like. And if you’re somehow reading this from that place, I'm here to say to you:

The Void is real, but it is not inevitable.

There is a way out.
It’s possible to find it.
I did.

I hope you find it too.

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This article is a personal reflection, not professional advice. Depression is a serious and potentially life-threatening condition. If you or someone you know is experiencing depression, please reach out to a mental health professional or a crisis hotline for support. Help is available, and you are not alone.