I am now capable of observing, from the side of it on which I have discovered that there is still some light and joy in the world, that the deepest pit of it lasted about 36 hours. The gradual slope down to the pit lasted for weeks before it abruptly dumped me into the bottom, but the part where I wanted to sit in a corner and sob my heart out forever was about a day and a half long. Which really doesn't seem like very much time at all, especially given what I know some of my friends have to go through on a daily basis.
[Disclaimer: This is my experience and may not apply to you, especially if you are chronically depressed.] One of the thrilling (pls note sarcasm) things about depressive episodes, is the curious effect they have on time. They manage to make all the minutes and seconds and milliseconds and microseconds and nanoseconds of that period last for ELEVENTY MILLION YEARS. This week dragged on and on and on until mid-day yesterday, when time flipped back to normal and suddenly I had two and a half days left to do all the things I had meant to do all week. I find myself perceiving what seemed like eleventy million years just a day or so ago is about THIRTY EIGHT NANOSECONDS, twelve of which I have just spent writing a journal post. And now I have guilt, which is dangerously likely to feed back into depression, so I will stop.