I have been depressed for a few years now, although I didn't quite realize it. I now understand that my increasingly hermetic and isolated lifestyle was exacerbated by family and friends who not only stopped calling, but got so angry or discouraged with me that the phrase "I gave up on Aviva" was a badge of honor, an assertive stance that made the "giver-upper" feel proud that they wouldn't stand for my bad behavior (my failure to answer the phone, or show up at events that I'd promised to attend).

The more they proudly proclaimed to me, "I've given up on you," the worse I felt, and the more inclined I was to be a "lone wolf," or try and fix myself without help. I was deeply shamed by the criticism and labels coming at me from family and friends. I tried to bootstrap my way out of the depression - without help - because I had been told I was unredeemably "not OK."

Now I'm beginning to understand that this "shaming," which probably began inside of me and allowed my depression to "take hold," was highly intensified by friends and family who not only confirmed my "badness," but actually lit a fire under my shame by bitterly turning away from me, claiming that I was "hopeless" and not worth contacting anymore.

My reputation with friends and family - which I tried to change during happier, healthier days or weeks - has been difficult to turn around. Having earned the labels "unreliable" and "hermit," almost nothing I did to change that reputation - no amount of showing up for events, no amount of answering phone calls, no amount of initiating visits and activities, no amount of remembering birthdays and showing up to help with household projects or cook dinners when someone was sick - none of it has changed the family/friend legend that Aviva is a "lone wolf" or "never shows up" or "never answers the phone."

Just the other day, my mother said, "I don't understand why you've only come for dinner once, and we've been here now for six months." Despite my recounting of all the meals I'd had at her dinner table during those six months, with details about the menu and highlights of conversations we'd had, she simply couldnt - or wouldn't - remember that I'd driven through several major snowstorms and an icestorm to honor my committment to come for dinner. She simply couldn't - or wouldn't - remember that I'd stopped by three times with basketfuls of novels for their "paperback swap" club - purely on my own initiative and for the joy of sharing.

My mother's story about me - and by now, it's just that - a "story," a "fiction" - takes precedence over the reality.

Depression, along with all of the self-involved behaviors that accompany such depression, puts you at risk for being permanently labeled "unreliable" or "a recluse." For whatever reason, many people who were hurt by your depression will lock you into that role, and will be unable to remove the negative labels that they've attached to your personhood - not your behavior, but your very "being."

It's hard to win against depression when the people you've disappointed or hurt are now conspiring against your recovery - however unwittingly and innocently - by maintaining their negative impressions and unchangeable stories about how "bad" you are.

Being placed in a box - a prison, really - labeled "BAD" - and having that box sealed forever by your "tribe," your community, your colleagues, friends, and family, makes it very hard to sustain a recovery from depression.

I feel relieved to know that someone else out there - Penelope, in fact - has experienced at least some of what I've experienced; the capricious, uninvited, and illogical state of depression that makes it almost impossible to get up in the morning or "care" about anything.

It sets me free, a little, from the categorically negative labels and unyieldingly bad reputation I now have - even with my own sister, with whom I've had a lifetime of loving relations - that have so deeply shamed me and increased the difficulty I've experienced in fighting my way free of this depression.

My depression was largely caused by the fact that I loathed my job and the upper management style.

So many of the things you discuss here mirror my current situation except I think my depression also made me angry on top of everything else. And since it's not ok to be bad tempered at work (at least not if you are a woman without a supervisory rank), I took it out on my partner. Such a bad idea.

But there's hope. I made the decision to move to a different department in a totally different field starting next week. Yes, a cut in pay is involved so this move is not without pain…but if it helps alleviate my crushing depression, my partner and I will breathe much easier.

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Interesting. I wonder what other people say about this…

Penelope