Congratulations, it’s probably not depression!
If “OK” (or “Okay,” for those who actually went to school) is the world’s favourite word, Kashmir’s would have to be “Depression.” Someone gets angry— “Amis haz chu depression.” Someone feels low— “Amis haz chu depression.” Someone sneezes too hard—you guessed it: “Amis haz chu depression.” The word has been tossed around so casually that it’s lost its meaning. And the irony? The same people trivializing it are usually the ones puffing on a Cavander, declaring, “Ye Cigareatthe chu magar mukur cheez,” before spewing out green slime. So, let’s step back and dig a little deeper. But be warned—the view might contradict your “qiuck-fiks” philosophy.
Not all sad people are depressed, and not all depressed people appear sad. Same with education (Some people are just literate buffoons). Part of the problem is that instead of understanding our emotions, we’ve outsourced them to pills and quick fixes. Often, people are simply going through a rough patch—and that’s normal. When someone suffers a loss or a setback and feels grief, that’s absolutely normal. What would obviously be concerning is if they felt ecstatic about it.
When medicine mostly does more harm than good
One only truly appreciates health when it is earned, not bought from a pharmacist’s shelf. Look at the Mission Impossible actor, Jeremy Renner, after his accident; his recovery was built on the hard, simple work of eating real food to rebuild his body and mind, not on a buffet of supplements.
Take this lady I know, who stays unnamed for obvious reasons, lost a loved one and, denied the chance to grieve properly, developed anxiety. Swiftly, she was packed off to a psychiatrist and prescribed heavy antidepressants—for years. Sure, she had been anxious before. But with the drugs, she became anxious and lethargic, overweight, and utterly devoid of motivation. Oh, and let’s not forget the newfound anger issues.
Come September 2024, she finally saw a counsellor. And what do you know? With a bit of guidance, she’s back to her old self. What did she really need? Time. Motivation. And of course, a human touch.
Giving someone antidepressants for grief is like giving a sleeping pill to someone whose house is on fire. Sure, they’ll stop screaming, but they’ll wake up sedated and freshly homeless.
Prince Harry described this perfectly after his mother’s death—he was given everything except the one thing he needed: the space to scream. We also saw this pattern on a grand scale with Michael Jackson. His well-documented trauma and loneliness weren’t treated; they were anesthetized, a silencing that led to the permanent silence of the legendary artist.
We are what we eat
When Hippocrates said, “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food,” he wasn’t talking about the children raised on crisps and Coke. They can hardly compete with those nourished-on fruits and milk. The former tend to be irritable, undisciplined, and terribly loud. The latter? Utterly opposite.
Take my example. In my school days, my fridge was stocked with Coke, Appy, Limca—you name it. I’d happily munch on Lays while watching comedy, only for my own life to turn into one. The smallest things set me off. But as I grew older (and, admittedly, more charming, and handsome), I swapped fizzy drinks for homemade lemonade, crisps for nuts and salad. The difference was staggering—both in how I felt and how I looked (yes, even more handsome). Just as real food builds real strength, real experiences build emotional resilience. Which is why confusing everyday sadness with clinical depression is dangerous. After all, we truly are what we eat.
Depression is serious—your mislabelled sorrow isn’t
Clinical Depression is a grave condition—not the feeling you get when you’ve just failed an exam or when someone didn’t like your IG post. Some days are just bad days—that’s all. We are not designed to be happy all the time, we must normalise occasional sorrow—it’s part of being human.
Imagine explaining “everyday depression” to Napoleon Bonaparte. He’d probably laugh you straight to the guillotine. As science tells us that stress and anxiety are energies. And energy cannot be destroyed—only transformed. Use it. Channel it. Hit the gym. Finish that project. Take that Risk. Let dopamine work its magic. This is how we’ve evolved. There’s no time for self-indulgent melancholy.
What you have now is someone else’s dream. Be grateful. Consider those trapped under rubble in Gaza—no food, no water, no family. Nothing.
So, let me leave you with this question: While we have this breath, this moment, this choice—what are we going to do with it?
Mohammad Tazeem, MSc Global Business Management, The University of East Anglia - England, United Kingdom.
