View allAll Photos Tagged Depression
Feeling the constant war between the darkness and the light. I can’t find the words to express it so I make pictures.
Day 18
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As a way to cope with circumstances beyond my control, survive and work to keep fighting for life I decided to try to take at least one photo (or more) each day. I call this “a photo (or more) a day.” Practicing this form of therapeutic photography helps me work to focus on the present moment, gives me something familiar and enjoyable to focus on as I use photography skills that have become like second-nature to me and being able to view the images I capture helps me recall what I was thinking, feeling and noticing at the moment when I created the photos. More of the photos from this series can be seen on my Instagram account
I may not always have the energy, time or capacity to share photos from this series—especially with the very challenging circumstances my family and I are experiencing—and will do my best to continue taking a photo (or more) a day even if I’m not able to share.
If you would like to support my work and my family, one way you can do so is by ordering my zines:
Many thanks for your support.
A dark, grey, wet, foggy day a dripping wet bench and a sense of solitude, I'm lucky enough not to have severe bouts of depression but on those rare days I do experience a level of depression this just about sums up my emotional mind.
The picture was taken of a part of Taferner's sculpture group Editha Wegbegleiter, which can be seen in Szombathely (Hungary). The work caught my eye at first sight. The facial expression and the cracks and fracture lines on the face awakened thoughts in me, which I tried to express with my photo.
Szombathelyen (Magyarország) látható Taferner Editha Wegbegleiter című szoborcsoportja egy részletéről készült a kép. Az alkotás első látásra megfogott. Az arckifejezés és az arcon húzódó repedések, törésvonalak gondolatokat ébresztettek bennem, amelyeket megpróbáltam a fotómmal kifejezni.
# null daten
# A fine, American made, product of anxiety... yes, pure unadulterated stress! beats the big pharma pushers, i suppose (when it's efficacious, that is). although i must hold my nose, whatever it takes, to administer their [censored by the new upstanding administrators/owners of Flickr] toxic...... er, therapeutic drug treatment! Yum! Tastes like uranium enriched grapefruit! Feel like [censored again]! I sure rest comfortably -- perhaps a bit too much -- knowing that America's fine pharma companies are finishing us off in fine, fast style. And for the resilient, we've got big, er, test plans for you! Ypa!
Happy Truck Thursday!
This old Model T Ford was restored to a period look and on display on a private farm.
y los muchachos del barrio le llamaban loca y unos hombres vestidos de blanco, le dijeron ven y ella gritó -no señor, ya lo ven yo no estoy loca.....estuve loca ayer, pero fue por amor.......
The hotel was first proposed in 1906, as Oakland's business community sought to capitalize on the flow of commerce from San Francisco to Oakland following the 1906 earthquake. Many of the initial stockholders were important bankers. The hotel was initially called the Banker's Hotel due to involvement of the banking community. A banking panic in 1907 forced several major sponsors to drop out, delaying construction of the project.
Construction started in August 1910, and was completed in December 1912 at a cost of over $3,000,000. The architects were Walter Bliss (who also designed the furniture, tapestries, hangings and rugs) and William Faville, who designed the building in the Italian Renaissance Revival style. The grand opening of the Hotel Oakland on December 23, 1912 was celebrated by a dinner and ball with 1,150 invited guests, including Mayor Davie and much of the East Bay's social, financial and industrial elite.
During the 1930s, the hotel was forced into bankruptcy several times as the result of the depression and management difficulties. In 1943, the War Department took possession of the hotel for use as a U.S. Army hospital known as Oakland Area Station Hospital. All furnishings were auctioned off, including irreplaceable chandeliers of which only photographs remain. Following World War II, the Veterans Administration operated a hospital in the building until August of 1963.
Following the VA's use of the facility, several unsuccessful attempts were made to reopen the hotel for public use. For the next 15 years it stood vacant. Finally, in 1978 a Boston-based developer obtained possession and remodeled it into a housing project for the elderly. It remains in this use today."
Just experimenting with abstract reality around the house. I appreciate your visit, Fave and compliments. I hate to say that this in country a lot of people are depressed.
I was so blind
Why did I not recognize
all the sadness drowning in her eyes?
I was too busy to take some time
and ask her what was on her mind
I was so blind
Now I see her cries for help,
all the cards she had dealt
She was just waiting for them to run out
Is that what life is all about?
Just waiting for it all to end,
or asking why did it ever begin?
It's not supposed to be like that
You can't just lie around like a door mat
Let people step all over you
and wish the wind would take you to wherever it blew
I didn't see that's what she did
She hid
Why couldn't I find
I was so blind
She is gone now
I just cry and ask how
I let her slip away
It gets harder everyday
Now I sit in sorrow,
Wishing there was no tomorrow
I was so blind
"Blind" by : Anonymous
Okay, I ripped off the title from one of my favourite albums, Iggy Pop's 'Post Pop Depression'. But it kind of goes with the photo for me.
No depression here, but a kind of melancholy that comes with the last rays of light as they paint the sky in rosy hues. Plus, it was the last evening of a long weekend on the wind-swept Phillip Island, a place that I could live but don't (for practical reasons). Although it's not that far from Melbourne...so maybe one day.
There exists a feeling of when strong emotions get buried and forgotten in the psychological laundry of everyday life.
New York Street in the mid of Omicron wave, winter, light snow, test in the street, more stores and business shut down, pond shop and loan places open up. A man pass by with products wheeled and birthday or wishes to quick recovery attached to his trolley.
Vecchio interfono fuori uso. Monocromo naturale. Old intercom out of order. Natural monochrome. Dettaglio. Detail. Bologna 2016.
P.S. There is a bug near the upper left corner of the Oracle, use the + lens if you like. I didn't noticed it before posting the shot, only after. Quantum Physics joke? :-))
Monkeys occurs with depression treatment by the public and the noise it causes.
Sometimes enter his house and not come out and go on hunger strike for a while, then come back to normal life without therapeutic intervention.
There is another kind of monkeys depressed Faisrk and floundering in his hands and shoot it arises and a neurological condition, and can be controlled only through its own guard, and starts to Mhailth through a cup of tea with milk and a piece of candy, water, and sometimes invasive.
And more comfortable in something even leads him to depression is the guard and mental condition, if the guard was sad or depressed, feel like the monkey and depressed.
And animals in general, when you felt depressed by force or violence
, And looks first stages of depression through fear, imprisonment and ill-treatment.
There are some animals living funeral rites at the loss of any friend, when tamed when the first glimmer of her eyes and lost her hunger strike and reclusion, autism and rejected any sound effects and worsen its relationship with others and lose their appetite for food,
And when it is caused by a loss or comrade Aloliv advised to replace it immediately and deal with the animal health and not pressure him in any sound effects or congestion,
The cries of animals and especially when the monkey depressed
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القرود يحدث لها اكتئاب من معاملة الجمهور لها والضوضاء التي يسببها.
احياناً يدخل بيته ولا يخرج ويضرب عن الطعام لفترة، ثم يعود لحياته الطبيعية دون تدخل علاجي.
وهناك نوع آخر من القرود يكتئب فيصرخ ويخبط بيديه ويثور وتصيبه حالة عصبية، ولا يمكن السيطرة عليه إلا من خلال الحارس الخاص به، ويبدأ في محايلته من خلال كوب شاي بالحليب وقطعة حلوى، واحياناً مياه غازية.
واكثر شيء يضايقه حتى يؤدي به للاكتئاب هو الحارس وحالته النفسية، فإذا كان الحارس حزيناً او مكتئباً يشعر به القرد ويكتئب مثله.
والحيوان بصفة عامة يكتئب عند شعوره بالقهر او العنف
، وتبدو اولى مراحل الاكتئاب من خلال الخوف والحبس والمعاملة السيئة.
وهناك بعض الحيوانات تقيم الشعائر الجنائزية عند فقدانها اي صديق، وذلك عند ترويضها الاول عند فقدانها بريق عينيها واضرابها عن الطعام والانزواء والانطواء ورفض اي مؤثرات صوتية وتسوء علاقتها بالآخرين وتفقد شهيتها للغذاء،
وعندما يكون السبب فقدان الرفيق او الوليف ينصح باستبداله على الفور والتعامل الصحي مع الحيوان وعدم الضغط عليه بأي مؤثرات صوتية او زحام،
وقد يبكي الحيوان وخاصة القرد عندما يكتئب.
ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏsᴇ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ,
sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʜɪᴅᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴘs ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.
[ lelutka evo x. legacy classic. heaux. velour. jack spoon. ladybird. dappa. aviglam. doux. swallow. littlefish. mug. semller. ]
Morgan Brand of Riverside Falls SL.
Meine Intension zum Arzt zu gehen, war die Befürchtung gewesen, dass relativ zeitnah in mir eine Depression ausbricht, da ich mich immer so alleine fühle. Egal wo ich hingehe, ich begegne ja kaum andern Leuten. Voller Vorfreude bin ich dann in die Praxis gestiefelt und hab mich schon mal hingesetzt. "Hmmmm...," dachte ich mir "irgendwie ruhig hier." Meine Füße baumelten hin und her wie bei einem verlegenen achtjährigen Jungen, der nicht weiß, was ihn erwartet.
Ich schaute auf meine Uhr. Seufzend stellte ich fest das wohl der gute Herr Doktor bestimmt etwas unterzuckert sein müsste und er deshalb seine Mittagspause etwas vorgezogen haben muss.
Ich ließ weiter meine Füße baumeln und spielte nervös mit meinem Handy um mich abzulenken.
Als es dann draußen dunkel wurde und selbst mein Handy mich verlassen hatte, wurde es mir klar. Der Arzt kommt nicht mehr und ich werde wohl für immer allein sein. Doch dann überkam es mich wie ein Blitz!
1) Ich hab neue Highscore aufgestellt.
2) Der Rezeptblock ist noch da! ( Party! )
3) Man bekommt ein ganz neues Bewusstsein, wenn man vor Hunger sich durch den Medizinschrank futtert. Und
4) Doktorspiele machen tierisch spaß!
Ob die Depression jemals ausbricht?
Solange ich Rezepte ausstellen kann, wohl kaum! ;)
Ihr dürft natürlich gerne Teilen, kommentieren, konstruktiv kritisieren und Folgen.
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Daiko's face when the cat Lucy is sweet, this is a hdr try in CinemaScope and a textured sky,thanks for the visit have a wonderful day.
The circa-1929 Hotel Pawnee in North Platte, Neb. Had I desaturated the color a bit and zapped out the minivan, I’d have had a Hopperesque photo here.
When I first saw this faded landmark in 2012, it appeared to be single-room housing of last resort for older people. (You can just make out the words "retirement hotel" at the bottom of the vertical sign.) A renovation began in 2020, but I’m not seeing anything on the Web about the work being completed.
from my series "My Father's Wallet".
Yesterday's weather continued to be bleak, with no sunshine and no snow, and no ice on the lakes for ice fishing, just rain and mild temperatures in the mid-forties. Everything is gray, wet and dead. The heaviness of the air further weights down my low mood. But being the happy guy that I am, I had a remedy this year end funk. So, I dusted off my 1955 BMW R50 and rode. For every mile, I could feel the weight of depression be lifted from me. At every turn and every shift of the gears, I felt reborn.
I came back home wet and chilled, and a hip that was screaming (I'm still having issues after the replacement), after a forty-mile ride, but with a big youthful smile and a much better attitude with the ability to endure the same awful weather for the next few days.
I treated this image in retrospect with all the fond memories of my past family members, all who rode motorcycles. My grandfather, 1918 Harley, my grandmother, 1920 Henderson model K with sidecar, my mother, 1947 Harley knucklehead, my father, 1946 Indian Chief. My Aunt and Uncles all rode as well, either on 1940's or 50's Indian's or Harley's.
I guess that they all knew that "a little compression with take away a lot of depression."
518. Pentax.
I have photographed a fair number of grain elevators in Saskatchewan and Alberta in trips out there in 2013 and 2014. Most of the images have been processed in black and white, but after my last trip I started wondering if I shouldn't create a new series, processed differently. I've been working on these for a few months and have now created a new series in colour, which I will be posting here over the next little while. It's a departure for me, so any feedback is welcome.
If you'd like, take a look at more images from my Prairie trips.
At one time, grain elevators could be found every 8 to 10 miles along every railway line in western Canada. That allowed most farmers to make a round trip to an elevator to deliver and sell their grain with a horse and wagon in one day. From that elevator the grain would be shipped to ports on the Great Lakes or the west coast, across Canada and around the world. Grain elevators started appearing across the Prairies in the late 19th century, and the number of grain elevators peaked in 1938, when there were nearly 6,000 primary (country) elevators in the Prairie provinces. Many factors led to the decline of the primary elevator: the Depression, increased mechanization, improved roads for transportation, rural depopulation, the closing of branch lines of the railway and the buying out or merging of the grain companies and the building of large, concrete grain terminals. In 2018 only 88 wooden elevators still survived in Alberta. Many of the old, wooden elevators have been destroyed – burned down, struck by lightning, demolished - but some of them still remain - weathered but beautiful and stalwart.
Sources: Dommasch, H. (1986) Prairie Giants. Saskatoon: Western Producer Prairie Books and Kryzanowski, T. (2018). Gone from the skyline, parts of Prairie sentinals live on. AlbertaFarmer. www.albertafarmexpress.ca/news/gone-from-the-skyline-part...