Depression is a debilitating mental health condition that affects millions of people worldwide. However, it has been observed that the prevalence of depression is higher among women compared to men. The curse of the depressed woman is a term used to describe the unique challenges and struggles faced by women with depression. Firstly, societal expectations and gender roles play a significant role in the development and exacerbation of depression among women. Women are often expected to juggle multiple roles such as being a wife, mother, and caregiver while also maintaining a successful career. These unrealistic expectations can lead to stress, burnout, and ultimately, depression.
The therapist wrote something on her notepad. Then she said she wanted me to start taking some tablets. I said I didn’t like taking tablets unless they were absolutely necessary.
So Sandwich Woman had to drive hundreds of miles to keep an eye on a confused or ailing parent, then race back again to collect the kids from school. If Harper s Bazaar ever runs a mid-life Blues Sisters special, it will have to feature models who have been living in the same skanky trackie bottoms for nine weeks.
These unrealistic expectations can lead to stress, burnout, and ultimately, depression. Furthermore, women may face additional hormonal changes and fluctuations throughout their lives, such as during puberty, pregnancy, and menopause. These hormonal changes can impact women's mental health and increase their susceptibility to depression.
Depression's the curse of my generation and I'm struggling in its grasp
I have a confession. I used to cheat in those multiple choices. My eyes scanned down the lists of A, B, C or D and I would try to figure out which letter was the right one to pick.
Not-so-sorted: Actress Emma Thompson, left, and television presenter Fiona Phillips have both spoken about feelings of depression
If choosing mainly Cs meant that I was popular, with the eyebrows of Jaclyn Smith from Charlie’s Angels, then C was the letter I circled. I picked the answer that made me the best kind of girl to be.
More than 30 years later, I found myself in a psychiatrist’s consulting room with a questionnaire in front of me.
I recognised the format immediately: ‘Please circle A, B, C or D.’ Only this wasn’t a quiz about how to avoid being a wallflower at parties, or make yourself into the ideal bride for Donny Osmond (convert to Mormonism, get your teeth fixed, wear a lot of purple).
The options on this particular multiple choice said things like: ‘I find I take very little pleasure in life these days’; ‘I don’t consider myself to be a happy person’; ‘I drink more alcohol than I used to’; ‘I am anxious and tired some of the time? Most of the time? All of the time?’
My pen hesitated. I wanted to be sure I circled the right answer. Despite the fact I’d finally felt rotten enough to seek professional help, pride dictated that I still came across as the best kind of girl to be.
I could see what the questions were driving at and I could easily imagine the conclusions.
‘If you ticked mainly Bs, you are a total basket case. Get a bloody grip, woman!’ It didn’t say that, obviously. Nonetheless, that was my fear. So I chose the most upbeat answers I could find.
The psychiatrist, a serene, elegant woman, read through my multiple choice answers and gave a brisk little nod. ‘Have you had any suicidal thoughts?’ ‘No. Never. Absolutely not.’
I didn’t mention the strange allure of a nearby motorway bridge at dead of night.
She didn’t speak again. Eventually, I blurted into the silence: ‘Sometimes, I think it would be easier not to be. Not to be dead. I have two children, I can’t leave them. But just to stop, you know. To not exist for a while.
‘Sometimes, not existing, that would be really nice.’
And when do you have these thoughts?
‘Usually at 4am.’ How often are you awake at 4am? ‘Every morning.’ Every morning for how long? ‘I’m not sure. Eighteen months.’
The therapist wrote something on her notepad. Then she said she wanted me to start taking some tablets. I said I didn’t like taking tablets unless they were absolutely necessary.
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‘Don’t worry. We just need to get you off rock bottom so you can start to get better.’
Rock bottom? Get better? What was she talking about? ‘I’m not mad,’ I protested, ‘I’m a national newspaper columnist.’ And we both started to laugh. So it was, dear reader, that I was enrolled in the growing army of depressed middle-aged women.
Let’s call us the Blues Sisters. Unofficial logo: Edvard Munch’s The Scream. Theme tune: Karen Carpenter singing Rainy Days And Mondays .. . ‘Talking to myself and feeling old. Sometimes I’d like to quit. Nothing ever seems to fit.’
Cynics sneer and say that depression is very fashionable these days. I must say, I haven’t felt especially on-trend.
If Harper’s Bazaar ever runs a mid-life Blues Sisters special, it will have to feature models who have been living in the same skanky trackie bottoms for nine weeks. Or a must-not-have dressing-gown trimmed with cat hair.
Perhaps Vivienne Westwood could design the perfect little black dress for the woman who can’t face leaving the house?
Lately, a lot of women have started to speak candidly about their depression.
That wonderfully witty novelist Marian Keyes told fans that she couldn’t sleep, write, read or talk to people.
Emma Thompson, who always comes across as the most sorted, funny star imaginable, admits she has sometimes been in a state ‘when you never wash, and wear the same things all the time . . . You just don’t want to be; you want to switch it off and stop.’
Fiona Phillips, who left the GMTV sofa in 2008, having been its main anchor for 12 years, admitted she suffered a breakdown as she tried to cope with her mother’s Alzheimer’s while trying to provide a normal life for her two young boys.
Fiona didn’t like to complain because she was so fortunate and ‘ everyone’s got hard times in their lives’.
Depression is the curse of my generation. When did this epidemic begin? I can remember my grandmother — my Welsh mamgu — when she was the age I am now, sitting in her back-kitchen and saying: ‘My nerves are playing up.’
You never hear about ‘nerves’ any more, do you? Nerves have gone the way of the hostess trolley and the Ford Prefect. Instead of nerves, we have depression and panic attacks and little silver wafers of pills we pop in our handbag to take the edge off another bright, unmanageable day.
The typical female of my age has been dubbed Sandwich Woman because she found herself in the middle of two demanding generations.
Sandwich Woman postponed having her first baby till her 30s to get her career established. She and her partner couldn’t afford a house to raise kids in on one salary, so she had to keep working.
Then, just as Sandwich Woman got the kids sleeping through the night, one of her parents fell ill. As the modern family is so dispersed, chances are your mum and dad don’t live round the corner any more.
So Sandwich Woman had to drive hundreds of miles to keep an eye on a confused or ailing parent, then race back again to collect the kids from school. Somewhere in between there was a job to be taken care of.
And a man. Life is no picnic for Sandwich Woman — though let me tell you she would dearly love to have time to go on picnics with the kids, in summer, when the weather gets nice.
Is it women who are mad, or is it the society we live in? We always suspected there would be a price for Having It All, and we were happy to pay it; but we didn’t know the cost would be our mental health.
My story is no different from any other Sandwich Woman. For a time, my mum was seriously ill, I ran into gynaecological problems, I fell badly behind with a novel I was writing, and I felt so bad I was letting people down that I didn’t have the self-confidence to finish it.
Because I was permanently tired and distracted, I felt like I was being a lousy mother to my two wonderful children. And I didn’t want to let it show or, God forbid, seek help.
So long as I didn’t seek help, waking at 4am and feeling the call of the motorway bridge was normal. Perfectly normal.
So, ladies, what is the answer to the depression epidemic, that damnable multiple choice of our age? Is it A, B, C or D?
Maybe it’s none of the above. Maybe we have to stop doing multiple choices. Maybe we have to accept that it will be absolutely fine if we’re not the best kind of girl to be.
Women may also have different ways of expressing and coping with their emotions compared to men, which can further contribute to the curse of the depressed woman. Society often discourages women from expressing anger or frustration, instead promoting the idea of being nurturing and accommodating. This can lead to the suppression of emotions, leading to a heightened risk of depression. Moreover, women may also face unique challenges in seeking help and receiving appropriate treatment for their depression. Stigma surrounding mental health remains prevalent in many societies, making it difficult for women to openly discuss their struggles and seek support. Additionally, women may have limited access to healthcare resources, financial constraints, or caregiving responsibilities that hinder their ability to prioritize their own mental well-being. In conclusion, the curse of the depressed woman refers to the additional challenges and struggles faced by women with depression. Gender expectations, hormonal changes, societal pressure, and limited access to resources contribute to the higher prevalence and impact of depression among women. It is crucial to raise awareness, challenge societal norms, and improve access to mental health support to help break the curse of the depressed woman and promote overall well-being..
Reviews for "Breaking the Chains: Overcoming Depression in Women of Color"
1. John - 2/5
"The Curse of the Depressed Woman" was an incredibly slow-paced and depressing read. The story lacked a clear direction and failed to captivate me. The characters, although dealing with heavy emotional struggles, felt one-dimensional and lacked depth. Furthermore, the repetitive nature of the narrative made it difficult to stay engaged. Overall, I found the book to be a dreary and unfulfilling experience.
2. Emily - 1/5
I found "The Curse of the Depressed Woman" to be a highly disturbing and dark novel. The author seemed to wallow in the protagonist's sadness, making the entire reading experience draining and utterly depressing. The lack of any redeeming qualities in the story or characters left me feeling empty and unsatisfied. While I understand depression is a serious topic, this book failed to provide any insight or meaningful commentary on the subject matter.
3. David - 3/5
While I appreciated the attempt to raise awareness about mental health through "The Curse of the Depressed Woman," I found the execution to be lacking. The book felt excessively melodramatic, with little balance between the darkness of the protagonist's struggles and moments of hope. Additionally, the pacing was inconsistent, making it challenging to stay engaged throughout. Though the overall message was commendable, I was ultimately disappointed by the book's execution.
4. Sarah - 2/5
"The Curse of the Depressed Woman" promised a thought-provoking examination of mental health, but it fell short of my expectations. The story lacked coherence and structure, making it hard to follow and connect with the characters. The heavy focus on the protagonist's depression overshadowed any other potential plot developments or character growth. Overall, I found the book to be a monotonous journey into despair rather than a meaningful exploration of mental health.