Maybe it’s not a good idea for someone suffering from depression to be alone all the time. I work from home and live by myself. Even when I go out into the world, I do it alone. I dine alone, travel alone, shop alone, and walk alone.
To the social media world, I seem fine. They read my posts about my writing successes, they “like” the pictures I post on Instagram, and they applaud my productivity. They do not see me on the days when I sit in my bathrobe at noon playing endless games of Spider Solitaire because I can’t seem to stop myself and because everything else feels too difficult.
Even a shower takes too much effort. And what for? My hair needs washing, but no one is going to see me anyway. Do you ever have that feeling?
I call it “the swamp,” those days when everything seems pointless. Luckily, I usually find my way out of it. In fact, today is a good day. I am dressed and working steadily down my to-do list. Sunday was not so great. It’s up and down.
In his memoir To the Vanishing Point, author Howard Axelrod didn’t seem to get depressed in the two years he lived alone in a cottage in Vermont. He reveled in his solitude, meditating, observing nature, and running naked through the trees because he could. He didn’t wake up paralyzed by grief, worry, and the overwhelming feeling that “I just can’t do this anymore.”
He didn’t suffer from depression.
I do. It’s on my medical chart. I take a little orange pill for it every night, but that doesn’t cure it. It just keeps me from jumping off a bridge.
So there’s that. I don’t usually tell people about all this, but mental health is an important factor in living alone.
I am not alone 24/7. I see the quirky guy at the gas station and the waiter at Georgie’s who knows my name. I can visit the neighbors. But I can’t tell you how many times I have planned to go out and decided not to. It takes courage to do things alone, and some days I don’t have it. It’s easier to be a ghost courting carpal tunnel syndrome playing endless online games. (jigsawplanet.com!)
The long rainy winters on the Oregon coast don’t help my mood, but even when the sun is out and nothing is wrong, I can fall into the swamp. With depression, you don’t need a specific reason. You’re just depressed. Call me, friends say. They do not understand that when you’re feeling this way, you can’t call.
Depression has dogged me for years. When I moved to Oregon with my late husband, my mother was worried about my mental health. I don’t think she knew I had been in therapy several times and attended a 12-step group, but she was right to worry. She suffered from depression, too, but she never got help, and we rarely talked about it. I wish we had.
I like that living alone means there’s no one to please and nobody bugging me, but perhaps I need somebody bugging me. And hugging me. I need someone to help me make decisions. For example, my back and hip have been driving me crazy. Do I need a new bed or a new doctor?
Depression can be invisible but deadly. People kill themselves when they’re alone. My great-grandfather shot himself in his office. My uncle hung himself in his garage. Maybe they would have done it if other people were around, but maybe not. I’m not going to kill myself. I still retain a perpetual glimmer of hope that something good is about to happen to change all the muck into joy. But some days, it’s hard to see it.
Remember the old TV show “Monk?” Monk was a detective with so many mental problems he needed a keeper. His assistant Natalie didn’t live with him, but she took care of everything, freeing Monk to solve another murder every week. I need someone like that.
Medical experts have declared loneliness a health hazard. Lonely people are more at risk for heart disease, lowered immune functioning, high blood pressure, dementia, etc. Plus, if you fall, who’s going to pick you up? Some communities have set up programs for volunteers to call or visit seniors living alone. Do I want to be one of those pitiful people? Maybe I do. On my better days, I think I ought to become one of those volunteers. Would that take me out of my funk?
Loneliness is not the same thing as depression, and not everyone who lives alone will be depressed or lonely, but it’s something to consider.
My depression is relatively mild. It comes every few days, but it always passes. Sometimes watching a movie or visiting a neighbor is all I need to feel better. Not everyone finds that kind of relief. The depression settles in and stays, no matter what you do. If you feel that way, like there will never be any daylight, please get some help. If nothing else, text someone. Tell them you’re having a hard time.
It’s okay to visit a therapist, join a support group, or call a hotline. Years ago, when I was living alone and working for a newspaper on the California coast, I got so depressed I couldn’t leave my apartment. I had deadlines to meet, but I just couldn’t do it. I had no money to spare, but I was able to get free counseling from San Mateo County Mental Health. It helped me so much that I was able to make some major life decisions, including leaving an abusive boyfriend. It’s hard to make that call, but do make it if you’re drowning in the swamp.
I am not a mental health professional, but I hope you will reach out to someone if you need help.
This needs to be a much longer conversation, but let’s talk about it. First, don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I could use an assistant and an occasional “How are you?” call from someone who cares, but I’m all right. I have my work, I have God, and I always have hope. How about you? Are you generally content, or does living alone lead you to feeling depressed or anxious or like you’re going crazy? What do you do when that happens? Do you think living alone is bad for mental health?
Some places to look if you’re stuck in your own swamp:
Suicide and Crisis Hotline—Dial 988
List of “hotlines” that may help: https://findahelpline.com/countries/us/topics/loneliness
Mental Health Hotline offers resources for people suffering from depression https://mentalhealthhotline.org/depression-hotline/ or call (866) 903-3787
National Institute of Mental Health: “What is Depression?”
(Photo by Hans Isaacson at https://unsplash.com)
How did I end up alone? I didn’t have any kids. After my husband and I retired to the Oregon coast, far from family, he died of Alzheimer’s. You can read our story in my forthcoming memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, coming out next Tuesday. Preorder the book at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.
Oh Cynthia, thanks for sharing this. I am hearing from many kindred souls. So many feel the same way, and yet we keep it to ourselves. Some days, I'm dying to share on Facebook that I'm having a bad day, but I force myself to shut up about it. Maybe that's wrong. I'm glad we're talking about it here.
I think of everything now in terms of BP and AP; Before the Pandemic and After the Pandemic. BP, I had occasional bouts of depression throughout my life but was able to get past them with therapy. I tried medication and had such a negative reaction to the first drug I tried that I decided I would not try another.
During the pandemic (DP?) and AP, I have also taken on being the caregiver for my elderly (89 now) mother; with much assistance and support, it must be said, from my dear husband. I am not alone today, but pandemic isolation stripped all the casual acquaintances and opportunities to socialize out of my life, and caregiving severely limits my time and freedom to be with friends now as I also still work fulltime. So I've lost many friends as a result. At first their departure made me feel abandoned and angry, but now, I have a certain empathy for how difficult it is to be my friend right now because I really don't have time for very many friends.
And I find that my depression, which I call my black dog (I can't take credit for that phrase - I read it in a book somewhere and it just fit) comes to visit me more often and stays with me longer. Uncertainty is one of my triggers for depression, and of course since any sense of certainty is at best false hope and at worst just me deluding myself, I find that I've had the black dog visit me more often and stay around a lot longer these last four years.
But I am finally learning that I don't have to feed him, and when I don't feed him, he will go away and forage elsewhere for awhile.
Given that I have a 50 percent chance of ending up alone, I'm really enjoying this newsletter, Sue, and I find it very helpful as I try to plan for the several possible futures ahead of me. Looking forward to your book release as I'm sure that you'll have some helpful caregiving insights to share as well.