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vulpisnocturna · 10 months

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Writing tips: How to describe depression with body language

WARNING: may be triggering to some; not meant to diagnose, only as a tip for writing characters suffering with mental health issues

Depression is usually different for everyone, but there are several symptoms that can be expanded upon and explored. Everyone is familiar with the concept of depression, but there’s a lot of physical responses that are visible and can also help in show-don’t-tell writing.

1. Depressed mood: pretty self-explanatory. Downcast eyes, unfocused gaze, downturned lips, sluggish movements, slow or slurred speech

2. Anhedonia (loss of interest in pleasurable activities): your character may be wandering, turning down offers, wanting to do something relating to a hobby but being unable to start or concentrate, other people may notice lack of passion, listless eyes, numbness

3. Loss of appetite/Weight loss or gain: playing with food, not having the energy to cook meals, eating the same thing over and over again, skipping meals, forgetting to eat until stomach is rumbling, eating to fill metaphorical emptiness, eating out of boredom, snacking instead of cooking meals, visible changes in weight and/or strength

4. Insomnia/Hypersomnia: struggling to fall asleep, turning and turning in bed without finding a comfortable position, waking up several times at night and struggling to fall back asleep, depression naps (usually lasting several hours), being sluggish, bags and shadows under eyes, taut, sallow skin

5. Psychomotor retardation/agitation: slow speech and movements, very little movement, delayed answers and physical responses; OR bouncing legs, wringing hands, nail biting, quick replies, nervousness

6. Fatigue: breathlessness, tiredness, weak legs and muscles

7. Diminished concentration: can be shown through character’s hobby (blank page for a writer, rereading the same paragraph over and over again, unsatisfactory work etc.), muffled sounds in conversations, lessons/lectures/work, easily avoidable mistakes slipping past character’s eyes

8. Feelings of worthlessness or guilt: recurring deprecating/horrible comments about skills/appearance/behaviour etc.,

7. Recurrent thoughts of death/ideation: not going to get into it, pretty self-explanatory.

General behaviours:

Again, this changes from person to person. As a generalised theme, people suffering from depression have a hard time with daily tasks. Brushing teeth, showering, food shopping, cleaning, tidying up, chores etc.

Also, don’t say a character feels depressed. Depression often feels like apathy, boredom, frustration, and sometimes, very intense anguish and hopelessness. Imagine the range of human emotions as a line. Depression is a line parallel to that but much lower, more muffled. It feels like a bubble that muffles feelings and the world around someone. It feels like trudging through mud to complete the simplest tasks. You may slow down the pacing to help the reader see just how long and exhausting every little action is, place a lot of inactivity inbetween actions, staring at walls etc.

A character with depression may also have very low libido, with difficulty orgasming, not wanting sex but desiring intimacy, mind wandering during sex etc.

Meds and healing

Medication can take up to 6 weeks to start to show results. Side effects in those 6 weeks range from nausea to dizziness, fatigue, migraines, and most of all, a feeling of constant apathy. Emotions are either not felt or being felt much less. That includes hopelessness as much as joy, excitement, sadness etc.

After those 5-6 weeks, character may notice the range of their emotions is widening. They feel more, more often. They may cry at a touching scene in a film, laugh or suddenly feel hopeful or happy or excited about a small thing. It’s fleeting, but human emotions actually last very little time. Don’t jump into happiness. For many depressed people, healing looks more like feeling different emotions more frequently, having slightly more energy, having inspiration for a painting, a story, a walk in nature. Healing looks very subtle, it’s a continuous process.

#i have a psych degree #doesn’t mean i know all about it #because everyone’s different #writing #writing tips #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing body language #body language #psychology #mental health writing #writing depression #show don't tell #fanfiction writer

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sleepy-academia · 7 months

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please stay someone worth talking about worth stringing words for in the autumn breeze.

when i don't fall at your feet to pray please stay critical of the church and patient with my past

when summer comes blinding bleaching my hair and slamming each memory, each heartbeat in golden beams

be the freshly-fallen snow on the campus lawn, the blue of moonlight, the softly sinking into sleep

when i am tired of the dawn be the espresso that clings to my tongue the rosy glow of the sky at dusk

please stay someone worth writing about worth shelving next to sleeping leaves and moonlight, the peace of my dreams

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stardustthumbelina · 2 years

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Coming Home by Alexandra Zemanek

#ed recovery #eating disoder recovery #mental health #poems #poetry #bipolaire #bipolor #manic depressive #mental heath awareness #mental health writing #autism spectrum disorder #cptsd art #cptsd thoughts #ocd #actually ocd #my adhd #adhd tag #prose

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ardent-reflections · 10 months

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I see it all. I feel it all. My mind fills with tears.

Virginia Woolf

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pumpkzsafeplace · 8 months

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i remember - (mental health poem written by tee).

BIG TRIGGER WARNING! this dicusses serious topics that has happened to me & what i've gone through, if you don't want to read that's perfectly okay, look after yourself first <3.

also this is the first time i'm sharing my writing in eight years, so i'm sorry if its not the best. i often say to people who are struggling to let out your feelings, so that's what i did tonight. i hope you like it.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

i remember the day i was diagnosed with depression.

i remember the baggy clothes, the sweaty palms and the cramped waiting room.

i remember the smell of the cheap filled concealer i had painted over my body like a plaster cleaning up yesterday’s mess.

i remember the squeaky chairs and the sterilised room.

i remember sitting down on the patients chair,

and i remember how quickly the room transformed.

instead of the office, i was in a court room.

the doctor glaring at me hard from the judge’s stand.

as we sat and listened as my distant family came up to the witness stand,

describing how much I had changed- how I wasn’t the same little girl they knew and loved.

i remember being so confused- so guilt ridden for traumatising the people around me so much.

i remember how my parents looked on the prosecution stand,

i remember how they spoke about me- how i was nothing but a monster haunting the skin of the little girl they had hoped for.

i remember the judge calling for silence as he made his decision,

i remember how he looked at my family like they were the victim,

like they were the ones suffering.

and then the words filled the room as clear as day,

guilty for the crime of clinical depression.

and the sentence? a lifetime of loneliness, confined in the casing of my small purple box room.

i still remember that room, even now at the age of twenty-four.

i remember how it felt to sit there, and watch as time carried on around you.

how it felt to feel imprisoned, not only in your mind, but in reality, too.

i remember not really having a lot of friends,

i remember having to make them up in stories stored in the files of my computer.

i remember the storylines like they’re tattooed on my scarred skin,

the story of just wanting to be loved, wanting to be liked.

wanting to be normal.

i remember how much worse it got the older i got.

i remember how far i felt from the family dinner table as list continued,

like a cruel wish list from the world.

first depression, then anxiety, then borderline personality disorder and then finally autism.

like a cherry ontop of the crumpling cake of self confidence.

i remember how my family dismissed my feelings,

dismissing the facts put right in front of their faces,

claiming i was 'cured' years ago by the universe in the form of three terribly structured therapy sessions,

but boy where they wrong.

the monster was there.

and it was hungry.

it wanted the grief, the sadness, the loneliness.

it wanted the suffering to never end.

it wanted to live forever.

and it was slowly achieving it.

it got that good at masking, that people began to prefer it over me.

i remember feeling like a puppet with the monster holding the strings,

as it paraded over my life like it was it’s own,

killing anything hopeful in its path.

university was the boss battle.

the final show down between good and evil.

i remember how hopeful i was at the fresh start,

i remember how happy i was to be out of the purple room jail cell.

i was free! i was normal again!

but the monster was always there, lurking.

waiting for the right moment to strike.

and it really pulled out all it had for the last show off.

the first strike was getting petty arguments stirred up,

housemates fighting and arguing over small things, like kitchen roll placement.

but i was stronger than i was before, i could take it.

the second strike was getting roofied for the first time,

the vulnerability of not remembering anything but the regretful taste of alcohol on your tongue.

it was harsh and a cruel card to play,

but i was supported- i had friends now and i was looked after and cared for properly.

the third hit hard.

it hit harder than anything I’ve ever felt before.

for the monster to win, it had to play dirty,

it had to play on my fears.

pin me against the one thing i will always be petrified off, no matter how hard I hide it.

men.

i remember his hands.

i remember the numbness.

i remember the begging

i remember the violence.

i remember the dirt of it all.

it had won,

the monster had tipped the table.

i was done.

i didn’t want to fight in this useless battle anymore.

the tears,

the scars,

the trauma

what was it all for?

was it a cruel joke?

did i do something wrong?

why me?

i remember planning out my final days.

i remember the date on the calendar.

i remember the written letters, even now they still haunt my laptop.

like the taunt of words of never being brave enough to pick up that final blade.

to finally let the monster, have what it wants.

it won, i didn’t want to carry on anymore.

but just as the creature took it’s mighty laugh,

a light appeared from the corner.

it was a small light, and incredibly dull.

but it took both of surprise.

what the hell is it?

i don’t know.

as the light began to fade, it seemed like the universe had a final card to play in the battle.

one they had been saving just in case the monster got this strong,

it’s final battle cry in attempt to save this innocent soul.

and it was in the shape of a man.

no older than twenty, similar age at the time.

his brown hair was shaggy and a little overgrown,

as his blue eyes looked at me.

actually, looked at me.

he wasn’t seeing a monster.

he wasn’t seeing a broken daughter.

a mistake of broken genes.

he was seeing a woman that need help,

a women with rosy cheeks and the cutest blue eyes he had ever seen.

and so, he walked into the battlefield.

with a determined expression on his face as he picked up the blade.

and in a protective stance held it up to the monster,

preparing to battle for a strangers life.

someone he barely knew- but knew deep down she was important.

and he struck.

he struck deep and hard.

with the determination to rid the being once for all.

as light beamed over the pair,

and the clouds began to clear,

he held an awkward hand out in introduction.

“i’m ----”

“i’m tee.”

i still remember those dark times from time to time.

the haunt of loneliness torments my skin like an itch you just can’t scratch.

but on days like that, i look for the light.

it can be small and incredibly dull,

but even the hardest boss fights have a cheat code to win.

you just have to look hard enough.

and if you ever find yourself missing your army,

look around.

we may be small, but we’re strong when we’re together.

keep going, i believe in you.

it will get better,

i promise <3.

i'm here to make sure no one goes through what i did alone ever again <3.

gif isn't mine

#pumpkinposts #creative writing #writeblr #original poem #poems on tumblr #pumpkinspoems #mental health #mental heath support #mental heath awareness #mental health writing #mental health tw #mental health matters #autistic adult #actually bpd #bpd vent #bpd writing #Spotify

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cupcakegumbo · 2 months

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UPs and Downs

Life is a series of ups and downs.If you’ve ever tried to stand in the center of a teeter totter you will know that there is a spot where you can find balance, and as it rocks back and forth you remain stable. You flow with the back-and-forth motion without falling down. You learn to anticipate the highs and lows and counterbalance yourself. We’re finding that life is just like that, it’s a…

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#Anxiety #anxiety disorder #Blogger #Blogging #clinical depression #D.I.D.#Depression #DID #Dissociative #Dissociative Disorder #Dissociative Identity Disorder #Mental Health #Mental health writing #Mental Support #OSDD

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wordsmadeofmoonlight · 4 months

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tell me about, as a child, going all the way back down the hill and starting over when you didn’t make it all the way up on your bike the first time – over and over again. tell me about how you wish someone had intervened when they noticed your behavior back then.

tell me about the ache of the morning. tell me about the frustration in the night. tell me about how it infests every part of your day and you can’t remember what normal is like. tell me about how you don’t even need to feel good – all you want is just to feel alright.

tell me about the times when you don’t know why you still stay. and tell me about the times when you think okay, i can fight another day. tell me about how those thoughts coexist and you don’t understand how that works. tell me about the tension and the exhaustion and how you don’t know which was there first.

tell me about how it hurts in the shower. about how water can cover up a lot, even tears. and how it can’t cover up the sound of your sobbing, but that’s okay, because you’re always wishing someone would hear. tell me about how you’re ashamed that you feel that way.

tell me about how you can’t tell your parents about it. not even now that you’re an adult. not even now that you tell them all the other things you never thought you could.

tell me about how the worst part of it, sometimes, is how you’re letting everyone down. how they expect you to stand up and be better, to not be consumed by the ache. and how no one seems to believe you that bloody knuckles and legs that shake is quite literally the best you can do most days. tell me about how you won’t believe me when i tell you that that’s okay.

but know this, still: i’m here and i see you. you tell me you don’t think you can get better, and i know this belief to be fully real. but also, know this: i know that you will.

i’m here and i see you and i know how it hurts. i also know that the pain you feel in this moment is far from the first. that you can’t even remember when it began. that you really do wish you could stand up and be better. and that you’re already doing everything you possibly can.

i’m here and i see you and i’m telling you: it’s enough. and i don’t care that your brain is now trying to explain to you all the reasons why it’s not.

instead, let me tell you about how, yes, it’s clichéd, but it actually does get better. about how the storm never fully ceases but you learn to find joy even in the harshest of weather. about how you accept the fact that happiness doesn’t always last but understand that pain also isn’t forever. how you learn that feelings are transient. and how you learn that you are resilient. even when you don’t feel that way. how you learn that you can’t turn back time and it’s okay. how just because you didn’t always get what you needed, that doesn’t mean that you can’t change.

and let me tell you that the best you can do really is enough. every. single. day.

♥️🪐

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blossomingbpd · 2 years

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The Seed and the Mud

I feel as though I am a seed. A seed that was once on a journey to meadowy fields with my daisy sisters, but my winds changed course early on and I was dropped into swamp-like mud. Daisy seeds don't belong there. The mud was heavy and painful. It was enveloping me, suffocating me and pulling me down. The mud wasn't giving me the nutrients I needed to grow, in fact it stole what little I had, and heavy feet trampled me further down.

I was there for so long that the mud became my "normal". I've remained a seed for a very long time. I was pulled out of the mud a few years ago by a beautiful, empathetic being who took pity and moved me into gentle soil... But I feel tarnished. My protective shell was damaged. I am sensitive and vulnerable. I'm so used to drowning in that mud, I recall the sensation often and it frightens me.

I don't trust the kindness of this soil. I don't deserve it's nutrients. I don't even know how to grow anymore. I want nothing more than to be a daisy like the others, but I do not think it's possible any more. Am I even a daisy? Am I worthy of the effort they put in to try and help me? Will they give up on me? Surely they must. Some day I will be curled up like I always am and it will be, as they say, the straw that broke the camel's back for them. That scares me even more than the mud because I feel they hold the power to put me back there.

Broken seeds like me get composted, and that's what I fear, but isn't it what I deserve for being so... damaged?

#bpd #bpd thoughts #mental health #mental health writing #complex ptsd #emotional writing

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thoughtsthatstayedwithme · 2 months

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#spilled ink #thoughts #inner thoughts #life quotes #mental health #pillow thoughts #poetry #quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #beautiful #writing #early morning #late night thoughts

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what-iz-life · 25 days

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people need to understand that once you go through your worst time alone, you really don’t care who stays in your life anymore.

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deadghost12345 · 2 days

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Hey! About 3 years ago I wrote a little book thing talking about mental health struggles about ADHD, Anxiety, Depression, and Eating Disorder (anorexia). I was thinking of adding to it either more to the existing or about new things.

And maybe even trying to actually post it as a real book? We’ll see about that but yeah.

If anyone has any they’d be willing to share so I can make stuff as correct as I can. I know that this stuff can be different for everyone, but still. It can be situations you’ve been in or just symptoms or things that stemmed from it. Anything helps.

If know one want to share I’ll understand!

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drenchedbones · 4 months

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This is a oneshot of my OC's Nathan & Serena a early Y2k goth couple. They had a relatively healthy-ish relationship.

The world feels so small without you. Lounging for the nights I could look into your eyes and get lost within your soul. Facebook posts about us being two stray dogs that found one another. I hear you in the music blasting from our car radio. When night drives get quiet without your relentless rambles. That was all before, before the blood covered floor, before the paramedics, before the rush, before the tears, and before the morgue. I never thought your eyes could look so dead, once filled with such a soul, gone. Do you still remember me? Our dog? Or our favorite memory?

“Seerena, we need to go!”

“One more minute I promise!”

“You said that a minute ago!”

“Okay, okay, I’m done!”

I bolted out of the bathroom rushing towards the stairs, where Nathan is at the bottom. My beloved new rocks cladded my feet thumping along aged wooden floors. I reached the narrow stairwell and in my haste I missed one step too many. My body launching down the stairs flailing about my arms and legs contorting into different stages of a squashed spider. A large pronounced — KATHUMP echoed throughout the house. I immediately righted my body and looked up at Nathan in pure shock. We burst into hysterical laughter, tears clouding our vision.

“How the fuck did you do that!”

“I have no fucking clue, I BLAME THE NEW ROCKS!”

It was nothing spectacular but to us it was everything. We had only been dating for a year and living together for 6 months. That was the first time we felt like a real couple, the first time I realized you were my person and I was yours. Now you lay in a morgue drawer on a cold slab of steel, waiting to be cremated. So I can spread your ashes in the woods behind your childhood home, just like you wanted. Keeping a little bit of you stashed away in the locket I kept with a photo of everything you used to be. You were more than just my person, you were and still are my home.

#writers #writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #oc writing #mental health writing

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sleepy-academia · 6 months

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love is a brown leaf clinging to a spindly branch flights and falls foregone

love is death, suspended two wrongs into a right

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stardustthumbelina · 2 years

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Coming Home by Alexandra Zemanek

#manic depressive #mental heath awareness #mental health writing #mental health #bipolaire #bipolor #cptsd thoughts #cptsd art #ocd #actually ocd #autism spectrum disorder #my adhd #adhd tag #poems #prose #poetry

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delicacysblog · 1 month

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“what was the most pain you have ever felt”

healing from someone, i once thought i would heal with

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cupcakegumbo · 10 months

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Life Gets Interesting

The energy is weird today… feels like something’s up. Not sure if it’s going to be good or bad, just feels… I don’t know, significant? 🤔 Like everything around me is holding its breath… waiting for something to happen. 👀 Trying to pay more attention to my intuition since finding out that I’m an untrained medium. 🙃 I’m seeing, feeling, hearing… so much more lately and actively trying to pay…

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#Anxiety #anxiety disorder #clinical depression #D.I.D.#Depression #DID #Dissociative #Dissociative Disorder #Dissociative Identity Disorder #Mental Health #Mental health writing #Mental Support #OSDD

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