Depression.

[Harmonic]

So the consensus is that it’s the depressed person’s fault for poor lifestyle choices and they should just snap out of it?

I pray that none of you ever have to go through it, when the apparent solution is to just get out into the sun and go for a jog when your brain is telling you that there’s no point to your existence anymore.

Why so negative dude? It's summer, go for a jog, get some sunshine. Lighten up bud

 

[RedViking]

Why so negative dude? It's summer, go for a jog, get some sunshine. Lighten up bud

That's the last thing you would want to say to someone that is depressed.

 

[B-1]

So I can phone an institution or something and they can come fetch her and get her help or something? Legally?

No committing someone against their will is difficult. They will need good reasons, since it sounds like there are children if they are being neglected or are in danger etc.
That doesn't change the fact that they seem to need help if close family can see there are some serious issues.

 

[RedViking]

They will need good reasons, since there are children if they are being neglected or are in danger etc.

Would like to avoid something like this before it happens, but it is getting there.

Family are all trying very hard between the other crisis.

But currently everyone is evil.

 

[Harmonic]

That's the last thing you would want to say to someone that is depressed.

I forgot to add the /s

Mental health issues are tough.

 

[Harmonic]

Would like to avoid something like this before it happens, but it is getting there.

Family are all trying very hard between the other crisis.

But currently everyone is evil.

Not to be a negative nancy or anything but at what point do you wash your hands clean and move on? You also have a life to live with your own struggles etc

 

[RedViking]

Not to be a negative nancy or anything but at what point do you wash your hands clean and move on? You also have a life to live with your own struggles etc

Every opinion matters.

It's not something you can just move on from. It is someone that is part of daily life's. Has responsibilities. Has kids. A husband. A mother. A father. A sister......

 

[B-1]

Would like to avoid something like this before it happens, but it is getting there.

Family are all trying very hard between the other crisis.

But currently everyone is evil.

I'm sorry, this stuff is never easy or straight forward.
Best bet is to talk to a psychiatrist and ask them how to handle the situation. They see these scenarios play out a lot so can give you steps to take and feedback to how they respond.

 

[Harmonic]

Every opinion matters.

It's not something you can just move on from. It is someone that is part of daily life's. Has responsibilities. Has kids. A husband. A mother. A father. A sister......

I mean from your side. Not your circus not your monkeys direction

 

[RedViking]

I'm sorry, this stuff is never easy or straight forward.
Best bet is to talk to a psychiatrist and ask them how to handle the situation. They see these scenarios play out a lot so can give you steps to take and feedback to how they respond.

I think Psychiatrist said she must come to her out of her own. But will find out a bit more in the next couple of days

 

[RedViking]

I mean from your side. Not your circus not your monkeys direction

It kind of is. I'm not getting too involved, just fighting from the side line as it affect me as well.

 

[B-1]

I think Psychiatrist said she must come to her out of her own. But will find out a bit more in the next couple of days

I mean for you to ask the Psychiatrist how you and the rest of the family can help support the person and help them see that they need help.

 

[SAguy]

Written by me and chatGPT, took a little while driving the narrative more or less in a logical way.
Short story in diary form titled:

The me. The mask. The rope

Day 1
Dear Diary,Today carried an unexpected weight—a woman crossed the threshold of my insular world. Her arrival felt like a soft tremor in the serene landscape of my existence, a subtle ripple in the calm waters of my routine. In her perceptive gaze, I sensed an acute awareness of the mask I adorn each day. This mask, a meticulous construction woven with threads of laughter and feigned enthusiasm, shields the "me" that quivers beneath. It conceals a fragmented soul, fragmented by the weight of unspoken sorrows and hidden behind layers of pretense. Her eyes, pools of understanding, hinted at an unspoken understanding, an inclination to peer beyond the veneer and discern the depths within.She asked questions that weren’t merely superficial niceties but rather sought the truths hidden beneath polite conversations. Her understanding seemed to penetrate the carefully woven threads of my facade, touching the raw and unguarded parts of my being. I found myself revealing fragments of the "me," the tangled emotions and vulnerabilities I keep hidden. There was a paradoxical comfort in this vulnerability, a release from the constant pressure to maintain the illusion of the mask. Yet, even as I let down my guard momentarily, a pang of fear and uncertainty tugged at me—afraid that unveiling the "me" would shatter the fragile equilibrium of my existence.

Day 2
Dear Diary,This morning, an unexpected revelation disrupted the familiar rhythm of the mask and the "me": the emergence of the rope. Amongst the usual dichotomy of pretense and pain, a third pathway unveiled itself, casting a profound shadow upon my daily struggle. The mask, typically my refuge, felt unbearably suffocating today. Its fabric, woven with feigned joy and artificial contentment, strained under the weight of this newfound choice. It guards the "me," a shattered soul, scarred by invisible wounds and hidden away in the shadows. However, the rope—an ominous concept—introduced itself with whispers that reverberated through the corridors of my mind, promising an end to the relentless turmoil that plagues my weary heart.The thoughts of the rope lingered, a chilling specter haunting the day's every interaction. Its call, though disconcerting, carried an unusual allure—an escape from the tumultuous battleground between the mask and the "me." Throughout the day, I found myself haunted by questions that lacked definitive answers. Could the rope truly offer liberation from this ceaseless internal conflict? Or was it merely a seductive illusion, a false promise shrouded in darkness? Despite the turmoil, a part of me yearned for the tranquility it whispered of, a respite from the unending struggle that knotted my every thought.


Day 3
Dear Diary,Today unfolded within the relentless battle between the mask and the "me." The mask, an intricately crafted veil of conviviality and cheer, felt increasingly confining. It’s the façade I meticulously maintain to obscure the turbulence that churns within, concealing the caverns of desolation lurking beneath the surface. Her presence, however, offered an unexpected sanctuary. In her empathetic gaze, I glimpsed a faint acknowledgment of the authenticity veiled beneath the mask. Her silent understanding seemed to alleviate the weight of the performance, offering a fleeting respite from the exhausting charade I enact each day.In her company, a strange dichotomy emerged—a conflict between the comfort of vulnerability and the fear of exposure. It was both liberating and terrifying to reveal the cracks in the mask, to let someone witness the "me" beneath the surface. But with each vulnerable moment shared, a sense of unease settled within—anxiety at the vulnerability laid bare, uncertainty about how these revelations might be perceived. Would she see the frailty beneath the facade and understand, or would it render the carefully crafted image irreparably shattered?


Day 4
Dear Diary,Today unfurled with a newfound weight upon my shoulders—a weight that heralded the emergence of a choice between the mask, the "me," and the looming allure of the rope. The mask, my customary shield, threatened to crumble beneath its weight. Its vibrant hues clashed starkly against the shadows veiling the "me." It's the "me," a void of unspoken anguish and solitude, yearning for liberation yet recoiling from the scrutiny of light. Today, however, the whispers of the rope grew insistent, seducing reason and hope with promises of tranquil release from the relentless torment.The weight of the day's choices felt palpable, each passing moment fraught with a sense of impending resolution. The struggle between holding onto the familiar facade and embracing the raw authenticity of the "me" seemed to intensify. The rope’s siren call echoed incessantly, a haunting lullaby that permeated every thought. As evening descended, the shadows seemed darker, the echoes of uncertainty louder. Amidst the chaos, her voice—a distant echo—whispered reminders of strength, yet its resonance waned against the pull of the rope's allure.The interplay between hope and despair unfolded like a tempest within. The rope's promise of silence, of an end to the ceaseless struggle, grew enticing, almost irresistible. And yet, a lingering ember of resilience flickered—a dim beacon amidst the encroaching darkness. Tomorrow's dawn loomed uncertain, a testament to the tumultuous battle between choices that threatened to define the very essence of existence.

Day 5

Dear Diary,This marks the culmination of an unrelenting journey. Today, the choice reached its fateful conclusion: the rope. The shattered remnants of the mask lay scattered, a mosaic of deception incapable of concealing the fractured "me," consumed by a tempest of despair. The rope's call, once a distant murmur, became an undeniable chorus, promising an end to the ceaseless turmoil.In the final moments, the echoes of her understanding—a woman who dared to peer beyond the facade—I offer gratitude for her moments of solace and understanding. Her presence, a flicker of light in the consuming darkness, offered glimpses of solace in the labyrinthine maze of despair. As the shadows envelop me in their final embrace, I say goodbye to the unyielding anguish that etched its mark upon my existence.The decision made is not a defeat, but a quiet surrender to the unbearable weight of existence. The rope, a beckoning promise of peace, whispers a seductive invitation to silence the cacophony within. In this final act, I hope for an end to the relentless battle that has haunted my every breath.To those who sought to understand and to the woman who held a glimpse of the "me" amidst the chaos of the mask, I offer a silent thank you. In these fading moments, may a sliver of understanding linger—a testament to the silent struggles behind veils of laughter, and a plea for compassion amidst the echoing silence.Farewell.

 

[RedViking]

Written by me and chatGPT, took a little while driving the narrative more or less in a logical way.
Short story in diary form titled:

The me. The mask. The rope

Day 1
Dear Diary,Today carried an unexpected weight—a woman crossed the threshold of my insular world. Her arrival felt like a soft tremor in the serene landscape of my existence, a subtle ripple in the calm waters of my routine. In her perceptive gaze, I sensed an acute awareness of the mask I adorn each day. This mask, a meticulous construction woven with threads of laughter and feigned enthusiasm, shields the "me" that quivers beneath. It conceals a fragmented soul, fragmented by the weight of unspoken sorrows and hidden behind layers of pretense. Her eyes, pools of understanding, hinted at an unspoken understanding, an inclination to peer beyond the veneer and discern the depths within.She asked questions that weren’t merely superficial niceties but rather sought the truths hidden beneath polite conversations. Her understanding seemed to penetrate the carefully woven threads of my facade, touching the raw and unguarded parts of my being. I found myself revealing fragments of the "me," the tangled emotions and vulnerabilities I keep hidden. There was a paradoxical comfort in this vulnerability, a release from the constant pressure to maintain the illusion of the mask. Yet, even as I let down my guard momentarily, a pang of fear and uncertainty tugged at me—afraid that unveiling the "me" would shatter the fragile equilibrium of my existence.

Day 2
Dear Diary,This morning, an unexpected revelation disrupted the familiar rhythm of the mask and the "me": the emergence of the rope. Amongst the usual dichotomy of pretense and pain, a third pathway unveiled itself, casting a profound shadow upon my daily struggle. The mask, typically my refuge, felt unbearably suffocating today. Its fabric, woven with feigned joy and artificial contentment, strained under the weight of this newfound choice. It guards the "me," a shattered soul, scarred by invisible wounds and hidden away in the shadows. However, the rope—an ominous concept—introduced itself with whispers that reverberated through the corridors of my mind, promising an end to the relentless turmoil that plagues my weary heart.The thoughts of the rope lingered, a chilling specter haunting the day's every interaction. Its call, though disconcerting, carried an unusual allure—an escape from the tumultuous battleground between the mask and the "me." Throughout the day, I found myself haunted by questions that lacked definitive answers. Could the rope truly offer liberation from this ceaseless internal conflict? Or was it merely a seductive illusion, a false promise shrouded in darkness? Despite the turmoil, a part of me yearned for the tranquility it whispered of, a respite from the unending struggle that knotted my every thought.


Day 3
Dear Diary,Today unfolded within the relentless battle between the mask and the "me." The mask, an intricately crafted veil of conviviality and cheer, felt increasingly confining. It’s the façade I meticulously maintain to obscure the turbulence that churns within, concealing the caverns of desolation lurking beneath the surface. Her presence, however, offered an unexpected sanctuary. In her empathetic gaze, I glimpsed a faint acknowledgment of the authenticity veiled beneath the mask. Her silent understanding seemed to alleviate the weight of the performance, offering a fleeting respite from the exhausting charade I enact each day.In her company, a strange dichotomy emerged—a conflict between the comfort of vulnerability and the fear of exposure. It was both liberating and terrifying to reveal the cracks in the mask, to let someone witness the "me" beneath the surface. But with each vulnerable moment shared, a sense of unease settled within—anxiety at the vulnerability laid bare, uncertainty about how these revelations might be perceived. Would she see the frailty beneath the facade and understand, or would it render the carefully crafted image irreparably shattered?


Day 4
Dear Diary,Today unfurled with a newfound weight upon my shoulders—a weight that heralded the emergence of a choice between the mask, the "me," and the looming allure of the rope. The mask, my customary shield, threatened to crumble beneath its weight. Its vibrant hues clashed starkly against the shadows veiling the "me." It's the "me," a void of unspoken anguish and solitude, yearning for liberation yet recoiling from the scrutiny of light. Today, however, the whispers of the rope grew insistent, seducing reason and hope with promises of tranquil release from the relentless torment.The weight of the day's choices felt palpable, each passing moment fraught with a sense of impending resolution. The struggle between holding onto the familiar facade and embracing the raw authenticity of the "me" seemed to intensify. The rope’s siren call echoed incessantly, a haunting lullaby that permeated every thought. As evening descended, the shadows seemed darker, the echoes of uncertainty louder. Amidst the chaos, her voice—a distant echo—whispered reminders of strength, yet its resonance waned against the pull of the rope's allure.The interplay between hope and despair unfolded like a tempest within. The rope's promise of silence, of an end to the ceaseless struggle, grew enticing, almost irresistible. And yet, a lingering ember of resilience flickered—a dim beacon amidst the encroaching darkness. Tomorrow's dawn loomed uncertain, a testament to the tumultuous battle between choices that threatened to define the very essence of existence.

Day 5

Dear Diary,This marks the culmination of an unrelenting journey. Today, the choice reached its fateful conclusion: the rope. The shattered remnants of the mask lay scattered, a mosaic of deception incapable of concealing the fractured "me," consumed by a tempest of despair. The rope's call, once a distant murmur, became an undeniable chorus, promising an end to the ceaseless turmoil.In the final moments, the echoes of her understanding—a woman who dared to peer beyond the facade—I offer gratitude for her moments of solace and understanding. Her presence, a flicker of light in the consuming darkness, offered glimpses of solace in the labyrinthine maze of despair. As the shadows envelop me in their final embrace, I say goodbye to the unyielding anguish that etched its mark upon my existence.The decision made is not a defeat, but a quiet surrender to the unbearable weight of existence. The rope, a beckoning promise of peace, whispers a seductive invitation to silence the cacophony within. In this final act, I hope for an end to the relentless battle that has haunted my every breath.To those who sought to understand and to the woman who held a glimpse of the "me" amidst the chaos of the mask, I offer a silent thank you. In these fading moments, may a sliver of understanding linger—a testament to the silent struggles behind veils of laughter, and a plea for compassion amidst the echoing silence.Farewell.

Couldn't ChatGPT give a summary as well.

 

[SkippyRamirez]

I just want to add a distinction in here. There is a massive difference between depression/'the blues', and MDD. If you don't have MDD, there is no way you can possibly understand what it does to you. It is a mental cancer. There is no way out.

 

[lexity]

It kind of is. I'm not getting too involved, just fighting from the side line as it affect me as well.

Is sister in law paying her way? How does she get by? Who pays the bills? Married? Kids?

Just trying to see what need if any there is to call someone to come and take her away. There are still kidnapping laws on the books, I assume.

Has she broken the law? Or threatened violence?

 

[Jings]

Why so negative dude? It's summer, go for a jog, get some sunshine. Lighten up bud

Depression is caused by increased levels of MOA-A in the brain which breaks down serotonin, dopamine and other mood related chemicals. Does exercise and diet fix that?

Medical professionals either prescribe SSRI's or MOA inhibitors or TMS as ongoing treatment as a scientifically proven cure is not known yet.

 

[lexity]

Depression is caused by increased levels of MOA-A in the brain which breaks down serotonin, dopamine and other mood related chemicals. Does exercise and diet fix that?

This has not been proven. For all that is known, increased levels of MOA-A in the brain may be cause by depression i.e. the other way around.

When you buy a season ticket, and eventually get an opportunity to go see a game, and your team scores... your catacalymides go through the roof.

Now, did those brain chemicals cause your elation? Or was is that you chose to support the goal scoring side, and that goal very much met with your approval, which resulted in elevated catacalymides/brainchemicals? Correlation is not causation.

Poor life circumstances cause depression. Many don't like to acknowledge their power of choice in how those circumstances develop. But even if other people are involved in deteriorating circumstances, you, the individual, are never a complete victim. Because even when you are a victim say of a mugging, you can learn how to avoid or better deal with whatever went wrong.

The mistake is to blame the brain.

I understand it's very tempting to relinquish responsibility.

But freedom and responsibility are two sides of the same coin. It is way too cavalier to permit yourself the 'luxury' of relinquishing decision-making responsibility.

Medical professionals either prescribe SSRI's or MOA inhibitors or TMS as ongoing treatment as a scientifically proven cure is not known yet.

 

[maumau]

So I can phone an institution or something and they can come fetch her and get her help or something? Legally?

What we (as a family) did is we found out our FM had seen a psychologist several times in the year leading up to his "episode".

One of us phoned the psych and explained what was going on and happily he agreed to sign some sort of form (not sure what form it is). Police have to certify it.

Because it was involuntary and we didn't want FM to have memories of invasion into his secure space I.e. his home, we set up a meeting not in a public place, asked the domestic to let us know when he left home and had the paramedics fetch him from the meeting place.

He was surprised when they arrived but he's not a violent man and after one of the senior paramedics talked him down he agreed to go with them.

He agreed to an injection to calm him down for the journey but has forgotten he gave permission and swears they drugged him against his will

P.S. first thing those medics asked for was the certified letter.

 

[Barbarian Conan]

So the consensus is that it’s the depressed person’s fault for poor lifestyle choices and they should just snap out of it?

I pray that none of you ever have to go through it, when the apparent solution is to just get out into the sun and go for a jog when your brain is telling you that there’s no point to your existence anymore.

It's only natural that this is the opinion of those who haven't been depressed themselves or had a loved one suffer from severe depression. It was my opinion once as well.

I've never really had depression, but I've seen how others do everything right and still struggle. Maybe they would have been fine without meds if they could remove themselves from work or school or [insert negative environment here], but it's not realistic. Some get better if they can just take a break and find their balance again by being admitted to a clinic. Others needs their meds no matter what.

I've been sad for a while after a breakup and it took longer than expected to get over it. I tried the advice of exercising etc, but none of it really worked. It gave me a small glimpse of what the life of someone living with depression is like, and it's terrifying.