Funky, Boring, Zombie Depression. This is My Story.

I’m depressed right now and it’s fucking boring. I barely have the energy to curse, and I usually love cursing. I’ve been through the phase of being depressed where you cry every day because things feel bad. I’m over crying and sleeping all the time. Now, I just walk around like a zombie pretending things are okay when they’re not.

Actually, I don’t even pretend.

depression is boring

Depression is Boring

I am a zombie and not even the interesting kind that eats people’s brains. I walk around with my arms outstretched automatically doing things that I’m “supposed to do” like get up in the morning, feed myself three times a day, take care of my kids, and do work. I force myself to see my friends, I make myself go to the playground so that I can get outside, but I’m bored. Bored of feeling like I can’t feel anything. At least when I was crying I could feel something.

I remember being bored as a child. I’d played every board game we owned in the house, I was tired of trying to beat Super Mario Brothers, and I’d watched too much TV. I didn’t feel like drawing or even writing (I know; crazy-town) so I would complain to my mom that I was bored. She would suggest various activities I could do, but none of them sounded appealing. Still, if I pushed myself I would be able to find something that would make me happy even for a moment.

I’m an adult now and I feel nothing.

It’s like the feelings button got switched off and I’m on autopilot. I don’t know if there’s a solution for this boredom. There probably isn’t one and I’m bored even typing this, but I want people to know that depression isn’t always extreme and dramatic. Once you’re in it for a while it actually becomes mundane and dull. I’m existing and nothing more, just trying to be a person and feeling like a mannequin. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have feelings. They seem like a distant memory from the past. I miss them; even the “bad” ones.

mannequin depression

At least when I was crying it felt cathartic. I was releasing something that needed to come out of me. Now that that’s gone, there’s nothing left to let go of. I’m in a holding period or a purgatory that I can’t seem to leave. I don’t see any doors or even one window to look out of. I’m stuck in here and I put myself in this place, but I’m tired of saying it’s not fair so I sit in a wooden chair staring off into space.

Depression eats away at any semblance of fun.

Everything I once found fun I don’t want to do. If you put my favorite chocolate cake in front of me I’d say “no thank you,” and push it away. I can see my old self looking at me from above saying “you’re crazy! How could you turn that down?” But I don’t want anything, I don’t feel passionate about anything in particular and the worst part of all this is that I can’t seem to explain it to anyone. I’ve tried listening to music that I normally love. When I’m not depressed I like to belt out songs in the shower, in my living room and even while walking down the street. Now singing brings me no joy and I don’t want to do it at all.

When I say depression is boring, people look at me with a quizzical expression. I’m too exhausted to elaborate on what this means and their confusion makes me want to lay down. I could play a stupid game on my phone to distract me from how bored I am. It doesn’t matter what I do, I’m counting down the hours until I go to sleep at night so I can stop being bored of getting through the day. Minutes seem like hours and hours seem like days and days seem like entire weeks. I can’t remember most things and I’m moving slowly like I’m stuck in the mud or quicksand.

I’m not motivated to change or work on myself because I don’t care enough right now. It’s hard to see out of this funk, even though I want to. I want to find excitement in things that I once was stoked about. It seems like I’ve forgotten how to do that though. Everything tastes like sand and my eyes look like lifeless and gray. I’m waiting for this boredom to lift so I can see the proverbial sun, which I know is waiting for me. I’m just not sure when or how it’s going to find me.

sarah fader

Sarah Fader is the CEO and Founder of Stigma Fighters, a non-profit organization that encourages individuals with mental illness to share their personal stories. She has been featured in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Atlantic, Quartz, Psychology Today, The Huffington Post, HuffPost Live, and Good Day New York. Connect with Sarah on Twitter @TheSarahFader and at www.sarahfader.com today!