Sorry for turning this into a novel (I can't help it, I love to write...), for some reason I can make sense of myself on this forum
Depression used to be a frequent companion of mine- no, not companion... lover. Finally, when my lover was trying to kill me, I decided it was no longer a relationship I wanted to continue. Yes, he comes to visit on occasion, but I don't let him get as close to me as I used to. I hold him at arm's length; we do nothing more than shake hands, drink tea together. If he tries to seduce me, I kick him out the door and double bolt the lock. The same could be said for euphoria, only more so; I don't even answer the phone when he calls.
IF I changed this to a she, it could pretty much apply to half of my lifetime,
except that my survival instinct is too strong to entertain any thoughts of a premature death. Am I strange in that respect? I may have entertained the thought
once as a teen, but it was immediately and absolutely rejected, and has never ever returned. I did engage in some self destructive (rebellious?) behaviour involving wretched excess , but I have always wanted to live!
Depression seldom visits anymore, but it does sneak up on me, on the rare occasion, for a very short time. As a teen it was an overwhelming despair and despondence that confined me to my bed for days at a stretch. I completely withdrew from the outside world. The only thing got me out of it was my mother sending me to live with my father, and his forcing me to go to school or get a job.
Eventually I was introduced to a girl that was so much like me it was scary.We hung out together from dusk to dawn as platonic friends, though I wished it had been more, and it probably would have been if she wasn't obsessed with finding a rich boyfriend to please her mother. That friendship did so much for my self-worth and happiness, that I was able to finally become a socially competent person, meet other people (which started a pattern of pursuing wild outgoing females
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) and finally led to meeting my wife. After that I was rarely depressed, and became "the happy guy". Things weren't all rosy though. My wife was diagnosed as bipolar, and the complications of that led to the occasional (hidden) bout of short term depression, but nothing debilitating. There were tough times. I had to be strong and cope, and I did.
Things aren't always wonderful, and I do have my occasional dark times, but normally only for an hour, or maybe an evening. I know I carry that dark core around with me, and it can be all too familiar and easy to connect with. Which leads me to this:
Ignorance is bliss...
I wonder if there is a point where an intelligent person gathers so much information that he can move beyond the realm of depression. Like an intellectual "enlightenment" so to speak.
I love to create and invent and learn, and this has become my defense mechanism. I live to gather information. The act of learning brings me happiness, and the information is often just a mouse click away. This would probably explain why I have
so many hobbies. I learn
everything there is to know about a subject, and then move on to something else. When I sense depression coming on, I can usually deflect it by turning off the emotion and engaging my intellect. Writing can help, but I had given that up for decades until last year. I kick myself for not pursuing it for my whole life.
I guess I have almost grown out of depression, or at least it has now
almost reduced to a level that may be experienced by a "normal" person, whatever that is...