Death of a Socialite as Therapy
When my mother was diagnosed with depression when I was 13, I didn’t believe that it existed. I always thought that only you could control your own feelings. For the longest time, I was unable to understand what it meant to be depressed. Other people throw out the word “depressed” so flippantly, I just thought that it meant sadness. It wasn’t until my final year of college until I finally understood what depression was really like.
When you’re depressed it’s hard to function. Even the smallest tasks call for the maximum exertion. I had already felt like a failure: I didn’t get into law school, I couldn’t complete my senior thesis, and I didn’t have a concrete plan as to my future. What was even worse was the destructive habits that I had picked up: naps in the mid-afternoon which prevented me from getting my work done, sneaking out in odd hours of the night to meet someone who didn’t want to be seen in daylight with me, and simply letting my obligations fall wayside. It seemed as if I never would feel the same again.
Things got better after graduation, but not by much. I was in grad school, but couldn’t get a job. Hours of filling out application and my schoolwork wiped me out. I began to second guess myself and found myself crying most of the time. Yet, in the back of my mind, I had this project that I couldn’t shake. I knew I had to finish Death of a Socialite for my own sake. Because of that, I knew that I had to do something about the situation I was in.
Publishing was only the first step. Since then, I’ve felt better about myself and the past. The darkness in Socialite captures the cluelessness of depression itself. You wonder if it will ever go away or if there’s anything you can do. The draining nature is depicted with my main character, Dianne, as she struggles to reason with herself and put the past to rest.
Depression forces you to focus on the past. Where did you go wrong? Dianne’s flashbacks in the novel help for her to remember and realize what happened. In a way, it forces her to dwell on the past, much like depression. The darkness of the novel is my attempt to explain the past in my own mind and has helped dramatically with my mood and energy. Anyone who is depressed cannot see the dangers that they face with a level headed mind, which is why it helps to have an outlet, as with anything in life. The only thing that you can do is fight to get better. By taking action, I feel as if I am in control of my life.
If you or anyone you know is feeling helpless and alone, seek help. Depression is seriously misunderstood. You can only understand it if you’ve been through it. Be patient and help your friend or family member through it. You could help make the burden easier on them.
Thanks to Isabel Saenz for submitting this eye-opening guest post. This Friday, her book, Death of a Socialite, will be featured here at the site (it’s a psychological thriller). Please stop by again as I showcase the talented work of Ms. Saenz.