Sloth

Whether or not I’ve committed acts of sloth or if depression committed me to the talons of sloth-ness is up to viewer discretion. Let me preface this essay by saying that at this point in my life - this beautiful Now that I am living in - depression no longer has a vice-grip around my spine or my mind. Right Now, I live on my own in a lovely apartment with my closest friends. Right Now, I commute to school while reading a book. Right Now, I am feeling better than I’ve ever felt. Five years ago is a different story.

Five years ago, I was a freshman in high school. I was wildly anxious, wildly depressed, and (unfortunately), wildly emo. Ripped jeans, lots of eyeliner, flannel shirt, combat boots, the whole nine yards. My iPod played Paramore, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, and the like almost exclusively. As a sophomore in college, I laugh about it. As a freshman in high school, I hardly laughed. I cried a lot though. The conction of anxiety and depression together is dangerous. Anxiety makes your body hyperactive, while depression makes your body tired and lazy. Anxiety is a stimulant. It drives you to do your homework on time for fear of punishment. Depression is a suppresant. It makes you unmotivated to even get out of bed, let alone do homework. One is bad. Both is worse. However, by my junior year in high school, I was doing well again with the help of some medications. By senior year, I fell in another pit. This time, I didn’t have anxiety to scare me into motivation. I found myself in a perpetual state of indifference. I skirted obligations and responsibilities. Skipped meetings. Skipped work. Skipped school. Didn’t want to see my boyfriend - which ultimately led to the demise of our relationship. I hardly cried or felt sad, but I hardly laughed or felt anything. It was a full-blown depressive episode.

Now the question is: was I sinning (sloth) or was a mental illness keeping me from righteousness? Under strict interpretation, any of the Seven Deadly Sins - regardless of reasoning - is a sin. No matter what. Under looser interpretation, some things are excusable. Maybe someone is wheelchair-bound or is otherwise unable to do certain tasks for him/herself. This theory, however, is not always upheld in regards to mental illness or disability. Chronic and/or clinical depression are more than just an emotion. They are identifyable illnesses that affect people’s every day lives. Yet, I cannot convince everyone of this fact. And so, my potentially sinful senior year goes undiagnosed.