The Images of Depression By Ellie Satre

The pencil sketch depicts a bloodied hand holding a mirror shard reflecting the skull of the beholder.

Image Description: The pencil sketch depicts a bloodied hand holding a mirror shard reflecting the skull of the beholder. In my mind, this is what depression looks like. It is something that on the outside you only look hurt – maybe a little bloodied. However, when you look upon yourself, you feel nothing, a void that feels so close to death. My sketch depicts the morbidness and the pain that clinical depression can cause in a person and that it can be anyone.

Just see me

Just See Me
By Ellie Satre

Sometimes I wish I could just die.


It seems so easy…

…the flick of a switch…
…the push of a button…


If only it were as easy as closing your eyes

wishing it to be.

I don’t really understand it—
practically never, if I’m being truthful.


The voices.
So many voices,
myself but not at all.


The weight,
a monster

pulling

down

my spirit.

Not a comforting weight
like a dog on your lap,


but a deadly weight


that drags,

slowing you down,

whispering

you’re not good enough,

you’d be better off dead.

SHUT UP!

That’s what I tell it,
but it doesn’t listen.


“You’re fine. Just sleep it off.”


That’s what others say,
but they don’t understand.


“I’ve been sad before. What’s the difference?”


I try to explain:
I can’t catch my breath,


all these worries

An image of a concrete poem (also known as a shape poem) designed in the silhouette of a bowl.

(Image description: The outline of the vessel is formed by the phrase “Filling my body to the brim” curving along the bottom and sides. The “steam” rising from the top and the entire center of the cup are filled with the word “Worries” repeated many times in various fonts, sizes, and orientations, creating a cluttered and overwhelming visual effect.)

“If this is how you feel
I don’t know how to help you.
Just suck it up, ig.”


Little do you know
you make the tears heavier
and the weight more painful.


I can’t stop it,
but you keep making it worse.


If I don’t know how to explain it,
just be there for me.
Don’t belittle me.
Don’t think of me as less.


“Oh pobrecito.”


I don’t need your pity.
I have monsters, just like you—
they just speak louder
and weigh more.


My feelings are real.
You might not see it on the outside.
I might hide it with a mask,

but it’s cracking
more and more every day.


It’s not always bad,
but it’s still real.


Just see me for who I am.
I beg of you.

About the Author

Chinese 18 year old girl with short black hair.

Image Description: A young woman with short, dark hair and a slight smile poses outdoors. She is wearing a light blue ribbed tank top with thin black straps, a black choker necklace with a silver snake pendant, and a smartwatch. The background shows a shallow, rippling body of water with a sandy bottom.

Artist Bio: My name is Ellie Satre. I’m currently an 18 year old freshman at Indiana University Indianapolis. I’m currently studying Biology and Forensic Science so that I may go to Med School to become a forensic pathologist. While I don’t have a physical disability, I have struggled with anxiety and depression for years. I have struggled with suicidal ideologies and I used to put up with those that wouldn’t help, listen, or understand. Now, I choose to surround myself with those that are willing to listen and those who are willing to understand and help. I believe that everyone deserves respect and for their voices to be heard. Mental disabilities can be greatly overlooked and put off as something that doesn’t matter as much because it’s “all in the head.” The only thing that does it make the voices louder. Everyone deserves a voice. Everyone deserves care. With my whole heart, I believe this. 

Wings

By artst: Tara

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This piece was sent as simple text that reads: “you took me in with broken wings, nursed me over time, helped me move past many things, and taught me how to fly. When things began to fall apart, and darkness turned to stone, your kind embrace and warming heart, began to feel like home. You mended every shattered dream, with patience, gentle grace, and in your light, my spirit gleamed, I found my peace in this safe space. Now as I soar on newfound wings, and face the skies so wide, your wisdom guides me through the nigh t, and lifts me up with pride.”

This piece was sent as simple text that reads: “you took me in with broken wings, nursed me over time, helped me move past many things, and taught me how to fly. When things began to fall apart, and darkness turned to stone, your kind embrace and warming heart, began to feel like home. You mended every shattered dream, with patience, gentle grace, and in your light, my spirit gleamed, I found my peace in this safe space. Now as I soar on newfound wings, and face the skies so wide, your wisdom guides me through the nigh t, and lifts me up with pride.”

Artist: Tara (She/Her)
Interview:
This project has been exciting for a number of reasons but especially because we had the opportunity to talk to each of the artists about their piece. Here is just some of what Tara (She/Her) shared with us on September 6th, 2024.

Tara (She/Her) is a lover of all things purple and DND (Dungeons and Dragons). She is a neurodivergent young adult living in a housing program for LGBTQ+ youth.

Describing their Art:
Tara wanted to capture some of the thoughts that have been going through her head since she moved into the housing program she is in.
“Everything that I thought I was never going to have I’ve been able to work towards and get.”
For Tara, safe, stable, and nurturing environments have people who are just there to help guide you through the good and the challenging bits life has to offer.
Those people ask what you need instead of assuming.
“A lot of the time people just put things in place, but they don’t ask anybody who it would actually effect.”
To those who are having a difficult time…
“When things seem down there are places and people that can help get you to where you can thrive.”
To those who work with young people like Tara…
“Thank you.”

Untitled by Hope

By Olivia Hope

 

I move but I am slow. The pep I once had in my step is now a shuffle. I hesitate to continue this

endless path of hopelessness. Where am I going? How did I get here? Why? I ask myself these

questions but they are left unanswered. I cannot stop to consider what these answers could be or

what they mean for me. All I can do is move forward.

Some days, I find my feet feel lighter. I can pick up the pace and wear a smile on my face. Other

days, I am on the ground crawling inch by inch. I long for what once was. When I ran with

freedom and skipped with joy, uninhibited by the weight of my sorrow and trauma. When did

this load become so heavy? Who is to blame? Why? I ask myself these questions but still they

are left to their own. All I can do is move forward.

As the mile markers go by, I pick up more weight and drop some off. The burdens fluctuate but

the pace remains the same. Even when my shoulders and hands are free, my body remains heavy.

My mind is chaotic white noise and I feel I am over capacity, incapable of finding myself. Who

am I outside of my obligations, family, and school? Where do I end and they begin? Why do I

feel I am never enough? This question stops me in my tracks.

I sound like the voices in my life who kept me small, sorrowful, and stiff. I do not like that. I

look at the road behind me, all the miles I have walked, crawled, ran. I remember each step and

how at each obstacle, each weight added, and each burden removed, I kept moving. I turn around

and stare at the road ahead of me, breathing in this moment of stillness. I want to shame myself

for standing still, but the sounds of the birds and the warmth of the breeze distracts me from

those thoughts. I should take breaks like this more often.

I take one final breath and I continue my pace once again. This time, I am walking taller and I

see a light in the distance that I did not see before. My body is still heavy and my mind is still

static, but the light provides me with strength. I see how much I have overcome and how much I

will accomplish in my future. I move forward feeling hopeful and more than enough

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Olivia “Liv” Hope

Olivia “Liv” Hope is a senior at Purdue University Fort Wayne majoring in Psychology, minoring in Philosophy and Religious Studies with a certificate in LGBT+ Studies. Olivia has received student awards for his involvement on campus and through his community advocacy in Fort Wayne, has been invited to sit on local advisory groups and be a guest speaker on panels. He is a single parent to a 3-year old child at home and enjoys being out in nature. Because of his lived experiences in the mental healthcare system and passions for advocacy, his career plans are to obtain his PhD in neuropsychology to advance alternative nonmedical treatments for psychiatric patients.

Image description: A selfie taken by Liv in his bedroom. He has black hair with a green streak and a black nose piercing. He is smiling while wearing a black shirt with a green crystal necklace.

Image description: A selfie taken by Liv in his bedroom. He has black hair with a green streak and a black nose piercing. He is smiling while wearing a black shirt with a green crystal necklace. 

Sadness vs Numbness

Give me sadness
With its grey skies
My heart ripped into two


Let me sob
Let listen to gut wrenching songs
Let me write dark and dreary poetry
Let me share my woes to all
About the unfairness and hurt
That my senses perceive whenever I breathe


Yes, give me this sadness, that has a clear cause
This sadness that I hate: Give me that: For my own sake


Sadness is natural; a part of human life
Barely on the spectrum
When I compare it to Numbness.


Grey skies vs blackness nothing
Heart in two vs non-feeling beats


An inorganic place called the Abyss
Where Numbness holds myself
Not song, word, or voice allowed
Not even the grace of sadness can present itself


Just me and Numbness
And empty thoughts of blankness
No one in; no one out
Unbearable Disconnection


The world’s simple notion of depression as sad sadness
Gives no justice to the Numbness of the Abyss
So, please, may I have sadness?

Jody has short black hair with her left side shaven. Her glasses are reddish, her sweather is dark purple, her earrings are black, and her grin is huge.
Jody has short black hair with her left side shaven. Her glasses are reddish, her sweather is dark purple, her earrings are black, and her grin is huge.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jody Michele Powers

Jody Powers is an independent consultant for the Indiana Coalition Against Domestic Violence, where she serves on the leadership. committee of Indiana Disability Justice and is the Hub Coordinator of the IDJ website. Jody is also a licensed Christian minister, whose faith motivates her to promote the human dignity of all people. Jody has cerebral palsy with visual and speech impairments. She uses a power chair for mobility. She deals with clinical depression and PTSD, unseen disabilities that affect her life as much as her seen disabilities.

Email:  jodymichele@outlook.com