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I have been to quite a few psychologists and counsellors regarding my depression (and acording to me, my apparent quirkiness) and hated most of them. Many of these people who you expect to understand you never do, in fact. For one thing, I seriously doubt whether any of them have had to deal with such crushing blandness in life.

Right now, I am in one of my depression spells (these spells seem to be quite frequent over the last two months). The advice you most commonly get is to focus on the brighter side of things, to try to find happiness in a sweet song, a sunny day or a beautiful flower. But those of you who have ever had to deal with depression, or who deal with it on a regular basis, will know that is not how it works. Well, there are certain kinds of depression that are triggered by outside circumstances, like weather, which might be combatted through such measures. But in my case,depression comes from somwhere deep within, and is rarely influenced by outside circumstances. It happens so often that I refer to it as my “old buddy” who drops by for a visit. And when it visits, it is a terrible guest. It barges in uninvited, it never keeps to a schedule, it demands my undivided attention and it forces itself on almost all areas of my personal life.

When depression comes, it is like everything else fades into a blur and a numbness, and all you feel is a sort of dull sting. I look at a brilliant blue sky or a beautiful new bloom, and all I feel is disgust and cynicism. I hear a beautiful melody and feel like I will have a panic attack any moment. I see happiness around me and I feel hatred towards the world. Even in the face of beauty and hope and happiness, all I feel is a numbness and a vague desperation.

All I want to do at the moment is curl up and go to sleep and not wake up until this feeling passes. Or to have a good cry; to bawl and scream. But I am unable to do both. I can´t curl up and hibernate for days, because I have a train to catch in the morning. And I can´t cry because I feel like crying alone is stupid, when you don´t have a shoulder to cry on. On the other hand, even when I have a loved one with me, I don´t want to cry in front of them for fear of them mistaking it as attention seeking behaviour. I am terrified to cry in front of my real-life best friends. What if they think I am being needy? And I am not comfortable with the idea of cryig in front of my mother (even though I sometimes do it, much to my own dislike), because she will start worrying and I will end up having to comfort her and reassure her that I am not going to commit suicide or anything.

Sometimes I imagine heart-breaking fictional scenarios in my mind to help induce crying. That makes me feel like a masochist, but it helps at times. And I have a fictional best friend who empathises with me. So far, that seems to work all right.

All right, I feel like a total nut. Does anyone else experience the same sort of depression? What are your tactics to deal with it?

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