How Oscar Wilde Cured My Depression (Well, Almost)

How Oscar Wilde CURED My Depression (Well, Almost)

Let’s get one thing straight: “cured” is a bold word. It’s probably not the right word, but it’s the one word that comes close, so I’m using it.

It wasn’t just depression. It was a mix of things: Anxiety, stress, sleep deprivation, suicidal thoughts, a horrible eating disorder—you name it. I went from a straight-A student to barely passing, completely apathetic about where I ended up in life. I also was a walking Chicken/Egg dilemma, like a lot of other folks I suspect: Was my eating disorder, stress, and insomnia causing my depression, or was the depression making everything else fall apart? Maybe it was just a team effort—a squad of misery feeding itself. Causation is tricky.

My limbs felt like cold sacks of meat, getting heavier and heavier. My smile, a deceitful rubber band that wanted to snap back into place. My eyes turned to tombs, wanting to stay closed forever. I felt like I was being cast into the world’s saddest statue. Any trace of joy or happiness was like an illusion—just a tantalizing twitch of something that could have been. 

Our instinct is to survive, so I knew I had to do something. Schooled in Western medicine, I did what I thought I was supposed to do- see a psychiatrist. She was fine—smart, nice, experienced. Within a 15-minute meeting, she confidently handed me a prescription for antidepressants, told me they would help and called it a day. It was an SSRI, the “standard of care” for my diagnosis, which was depression. There were no measurements taken. No tips on sleep hygiene, no advice on eating, no recommendations for managing stress, no questions about past trauma, relationships, exercise routines, spiritual beliefs, or my true desires in life…, just a pill a day, every day. The process itself feels like you are a damaged doll being rushed down an assembly line with the promise of all your broken parts being restored in 6-8 weeks. I had my reservations- but she was an expert so I dutifully swallowed that little tablet for three months, hoping something would change. And it did. But not for the better. 

I felt worse. I wasn’t less depressed; I felt tranquilized, like my emotions were shoes stuck in gum. My mouth felt like a desert, dry and stuffed with invisible cotton balls. Nausea in the beginning, low libido later arrived—and as irony wills, I still felt like I was becoming a statue but just on a different route. My creative spirit withered in that calm, soulless fog.

Then there was a burst of mania, something the likes I’ve never experienced before, that sent me spiraling into a dangerous, nonsensical Manic Kingdom. I was Alice in Wonderland without all the good-hearted, fun characters. Oh my-the pills weren’t working, and I had to get off that train.

Answers often don’t come from where you think they will. My epiphany came from an Oscar Wilde quote that had always lingered in my brain like an echo. He said, “Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.” Could the gateway to a thriving soul be the doors through which we experience the world around us and could a healing soul become powerful enough to nourish a reciprocal relationship with my senses? It actually made “sense” to me. Maybe, just maybe, if I could figure out how to replenish my senses, my soul would come back. Perhaps the answer wasn’t in a bottle but in the senses, the raw, untamed experience of life itself.

Taste: A Joyful Awakening
I started with taste. I researched the best diets for depression and was led to the Mediterranean approach. Omega-3s, magnesium, vitamin B12, tryptophan—these became my new friends. I cut out processed sugars, artificial sweeteners, and anything packaged in a plastic-coated nightmare. But most importantly, I learned to enjoy food. For years, I was a slave to bulimia: eating not for joy, but for inescapable shame, fear, and stress. Reclaiming joy in food felt almost absurd, but it was one of my greatest triumphs.

Smell: A Scented Revolution

Aromatherapy became a hobby—plants, herbs, trees, flowers—natural scents with no prescription needed. Rose, lavender, lemon, bergamot, sandalwood, mandarin—they all transformed into my personal perfume collection. I mixed them into my cleaning products, dabbed them on my wrists and neck like homemade antidepressant cologne, and laughed that my favorite fragrance line was “By The Woods.”

But it wasn’t just about essential oils; it was about the scent of life itself. The warm, comforting aroma of a local bakery at dawn. The faint sweetness of sun lotion on a frigid winter morning. Pine riding a breeze like nature’s messenger. Even the earthy, nostalgic whiff of fresh cow manure, taking me back to my childhood home where milk cows roamed free in the adjacent fields.

Sight: Nature’s Radiant Rebellion 

In my quest to give my eyes a soul-nourishing makeover, I stumbled upon the fascinating worlds of nature therapy and color therapy. Color therapy operates on the theory that different hues stir different moods—think of oranges and greens as tiny mood-lifting miracles. While I’m not about to nominate Crayola for a Nobel Prize in Medicine, sprinkling some color into your life certainly doesn’t hurt.

Nature therapy, on the other hand, invites you into the lush greens of the natural world, where simply being in—or even gazing at—nature can work antidepressant wonders. (Science backs this up, by the way.) Inspired, whenever I could I fled the business-colored confines of my vertical concrete human trap (a.k.a. New York City) in search of something greener, softer, and infinitely more connected.

What I found was nature’s mystical, healing glory. Its rhythms and colors wrapped me in a quiet kind of magic. I snapped photos to hang in my city apartment, creating tiny portals to the serenity I’d uncovered. Sure, living in a city meant my relationship with nature was a long-distance one, but unlike most of those doomed arrangements, this was one worth maintaining.

Touch: The Magic of Real Connection
Then came touch. Real, human touch—something I felt I had forgotten. There’s magic in a hug from a friend or being held by someone who cares. But swipe culture, with its endless options and “grass-is-greener” mentality, has a way of making genuine connection feel like a lost art. Swipe culture can make you feel like you’re not enough, so for your heart, mind and soul, learn the difference between a greedy grab and a loving touch- and choose wisely.

But it’s not just human touch. I’m convinced there are moments when only the presence of an animal by your side can pull you through. A dog, a cat—there are spaces in this world only they can fill. Their unwavering love, silent devotion, steady routines that keep you grounded, and their pure ability to live entirely in the present moment. I honestly don’t know how some people get through life without a dog or a cat. In many ways, these furry friends are more evolved than we are—effortlessly embracing simplicity and finding joy in the present moment while we struggle to do the same.

Sound: A Symphony of Healing

And then there were my ears. I went searching for healing sounds—tones, binaural beats, soothing music, chimes, and voices. Eventually, I found myself immersed in nature’s orchestra—a free concert worth attending. The wind whispered harmonies, streams hummed their tranquil bassline, leaves rustled like soft percussion, and wildlife contributed delicate solos. Together, they formed a soul-deep massage you could hear.

Contrast that with the city’s stomach-acid inspiring cacophony—construction drills, impatient horns, wailing sirens, and grumbling voices—all conspiring to erode your peace. If city noise is suffocating you, trust me: Step into nature. It heals in ways no playlist ever could.

In the Broader Sense:

Of course, overcoming depression often requires a multifaceted approach, but tuning in to your senses—and, more broadly, how you feel—can only help. For instance, poor sleep is strongly linked to depression. By paying attention to how sleep deprivation dulls your senses and impacts your emotions, you can cultivate a deeper awareness of your body’s needs and find the motivation to prioritize rest. Similarly, feelings of purposelessness or a lack of intimacy often accompany depression. Tuning in to how your senses perceive life’s experiences and the people around you can guide you toward meaningful connections and help you uncover your true purpose. Even something as basic as exercise, often neglected in depressive states, is tied to how our bodies and senses engage with the world. By moving your body, you reawaken your senses to the vitality of life—step by step, breath by breath.

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The Wilde Effect

I can’t claim to know exactly what Oscar Wilde meant by his words, (He’s dead and my ouija days are over), but I interpreted his art in a way that fed my soul and brought me back to life. Depression still visits me…and like the persistent ache in my right shoulder, it probably always will. It’s part of my wiring. But now…, it’s a struggle I can manage: like a difficult visitor who overstays their welcome for a weekend.

You can’t predict when life’s journey will feel unbearable. Maybe you won’t ever face that. But if you do, perhaps a makeover of the senses is a healing art worth considering. 

Eeks

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Thanks for reading. :) Also, you may want to check out:

My Long First Date with Death 

My book Manic Kingdom

My Causes or Cures Podcast