Depression is not just “feeling sad”. It’s like the river losing its sparkle. The water is still moving, yet everything feels heavy, colourless, pointless.

In those months, people tell you: “Be mindful. Meditate. Stay aware.”

Sounds nice on a mug. Feels impossible in the trenches.

I’ve been there twice. Long enough each time to forget what normal felt like.

Both times, something puzzled me.

If I had “been through it” once already, why did I still fail to recognise it the second time?

You’d think suffering comes with a user manual. It doesn’t. It just sits on your chest and quietly steals your air.

So let’s talk honestly.

Does depression take away awareness?

Some say no. You can be fully aware even in the middle of despair.

Some say yes. The mind becomes so turbulent that the stones at the bottom of the river disappear.

When I was in the D phase, I wasn’t thinking about awareness. I wasn’t thinking at all in a coherent way.

Forget “observing thoughts”. Just making it through the day and collapsing into sleep felt like a heroic act.

How do you “watch your breath” when breathing itself feels pointless?

How does a starving person think of fine dining?

And yet, even there, something was dimly noticing.

Noticing how I couldn’t get out of bed.
Noticing how I didn’t reply to friends.
Noticing the absurd effort of brushing my teeth.

Was that awareness? Or just another layer of mental commentary?

I still don’t have a clean answer. Maybe you don’t either. Good.

This module is not here to tidy things up. It’s here to keep the questions alive without turning them into self-blame.

Struggle as resistance

In brighter seasons, it is easy to give spiritual TED talks about “acceptance”.

In darker seasons, all that advice can sound cruel.

“Just accept it.”
“Just let go.”
“Just be present.”

As if there were a “just” button we could press.

From the outside, depression looks like passivity. From the inside, it often feels like constant struggle.

Struggling to appear normal.
Struggling to answer “How are you?” without collapsing.
Struggling not to scream.

In one sense, struggle is resistance: wanting reality to be other than it is.

But in another sense, struggle is simply the nervous system fighting to survive.

So maybe the first act of awareness in such times is not some lofty witnessing.

Maybe it is this simple sentence:

I am struggling. And that too is part of my river.

You, on your worst day

Let’s make this practical.

Think of a time you were mentally at your worst in the last few years.

Maybe it was named depression. Maybe it was a heartbreak. A job loss. A slow, grey season with no clear cause.

Stay with one memory. Don’t pick ten.

Now ask:

What did my days actually look like?
Not the story you tell now. The raw, physical reality. Sleep. Food. Screen time. Conversations. Tears. Silence.

What did I demand from myself then?
Did I secretly expect peak productivity? Spiritual breakthroughs? Perfect kindness? Did I accuse myself for not “using this time wisely”?

Where was I still strangely alive?
Even in that season, were there moments — a song, a dog, a mountain, a line in a book, a cup of tea — where something in you softened or opened?

What did I learn about my limits?
Not the inspiring part. The humiliating part. The “I thought I was stronger than this” part. What did that show you about being human?

Write your answers without editing. If you cry, good. If you feel nothing, also good. Feeling nothing is also a feeling.

A small experiment for this week

When a heavy mood comes — not necessarily full depression, just a low — try this:

Instead of asking, “How do I get out of this?”, ask:

“What if this too belongs to my river?”

Then add:

“If I don’t try to fix this right now, what is it trying to show me?”

You’re not promising to stay there forever. You’re just pausing the fight for a moment.

Sometimes that tiny pause is the first crack where a little light can enter.

Where we’re going next

In the next module, we’ll look at another trap: the illusion that “doing whatever I want” is freedom.

Is it really? Or is it just the mind wearing a leather jacket and calling itself rebellious?

Let’s see.