21/05/2026
This image, from the brilliant blog and webcomic by Allie Brosh “Adventures in Depression” was a revelation when I first read it well over ten years ago. At a time when it was hard to read or focus on anything, her images were one of the few things that could make me feel and react. They also made me feel less alone with the numbness and the sense of shame over the fact that nothing gave me any form of enjoyment anymore. I would feel hungry, walk to the fridge, stand in front of it, picture the process involved in cooking a meal and decide that it wasn’t worth the effort. I would look at long treasured DVDs of favourite films and try watching one, only to find that it might as well have been the most boring talk show imaginable. In the world outside home, the “wonders of the universe” felt like an old myth, or a childhood bedtime story. Nothing existed in any way that could inspire any type of feeling.
When you find yourself in that sort of numbness, it’s very hard to picture any way out of it. The fear starts to build that maybe life will always be this way. Yes, fear is a feeling and so is shame and guilt. Depression can pile on plenty of less enjoyable emotions. Your mind feels like part of a conspiracy to list and dredge every negative factor of your personality. You become convinced that that version of you is the one that’s real. The fact that it’s so unlikeable means that it doesn’t really matter that it’s being slowly eroded away.
The figure of the depressed person in the cartoon pretty much sums up the body language of depression. There’s such heaviness in everything. Your body feels like something you need to drag around rather than exist in. Sitting up, feigning the posture of a human and engaging with the world is exhausting. It helps, don’t get me wrong. But the effort involved is phenomenal.
If you know someone who is depressed, or if you yourself are, bear this exhaustion in mind. Remember that even talking about the activities of the world outside might just drop further into the fatigue. Start with where they are, where you are. The couch? The bed? A kitchen chair? Is there something that might make that immediate environment a little better? A drink? Some nice smelling hand cream? Something comforting to touch or cuddle? There’s no shame in working around the exhaustion. Food that can be eaten from the packet, a range of pajamas in textures and colours that are pleasing to you. Dry shampoo. Anything that increases your comfort and helps to navigate the difficulties is well worth it.
It is very difficult to see a way out of the numbness of depression and sometimes you need to lean into other people’s experiences just to know there is some hope. Reading might be hard, but look at trusted websites and read some personal stories. Look at “Adventures in Depression” and remember that someone felt the same as you but was able to share their experiences in such a real and valid way. Tell someone you trust what it’s like. If this isn’t possible, write it down or email a trusted site. Remember that helplines are there to listen to you and won’t insist that you talk for hours. Tell them how you are feeling in the moment. A few minutes of chat might help you feel less alone.
Try not to mask more than you can help. You might feel pressure to pretend that you feel better than you do in everyday life. But remember that this will drain you. If it feels essential, then make sure that there’s a trusted person or place you can be afterwards to acknowledge the “come down”.
The “wonders of the universe” are not something that can be appreciated in the depths of depression. But remember that it’s worth persevering in looking for the right support. Maybe it’s medication. Maybe it’s therapy. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s something completely different. Whatever form it takes, someday there will be a c***k in that darkness. For me it was a sudden moment of realising that a book had held my attention for over an hour. That moment is worth holding on to.
Lucie
