See, here's the thing about depression.
       
       Depression is like nature. You can try to control it and succeed
       temporarily. You can try to ignore it, but it won't last. You can be
       as happy as can be for longer than you can remember, and you'll be
       lulled into a false sense of being over it or "cured". You're
       not. Depression will always strike again, and it will always, always,
       win.
       
       Just like nature. We can put up dams, levees, and other such
       structures to try and control nature. In the end, though, nature will
       always be stronger and will break down all barriers. Not matter how
       stong you make them, nature will be stronger. This is just a fact, and
       something we've seem time and time again.
       
       I believe the cause is similar between the two as well. Any structures
       we build will be imperfect in someway, and even if they were perfect,
       they will erode and deteriorate. This is fact. It's not that nature
       gets stronger; it's that our defences weaken. It is the same with
       depression. It is always there, eroding you down, until, eventually
       and inevitably, you break.
       
       So, our we sealed in our fate? Well, yeah, actually. However, that
       doesn't mean there's nothing we can do. Just because we will break,
       doesn't mean we shouldn't try to prolong it (however, not at the risk
       of "holding it in", which is far more damaging). We should keep doing
       what we're doing becasue sometimes just keeping things at bay is the
       best we've got, so we may as well do it as best we can.
       
       There's a more important matter that we can handle, though. Damage
       control. After nature destroys towns, the wreckage has to be
       controlled and rebuilt. We're no different. Our depression affects
       more than just us, and while there's usualy not much we can do about
       it at the time, we can certainly do our best to clean up our messes
       when the storm passes. In the best case, we have folks to help us
       through not only the clean up but also the storm itself. In the worst
       case, we have no one. Personally, I find myself fortunate enough to be
       in the former situation. I weep for those in the latter.
       
       Postscript: When I talk about depression, I mean clinical, chemical
       depression. The kind you get diagnosed with for the rest of your
       life. The kind that gets inherited and passed on. The kind where the
       doctors try to put you on drugs, and they might help a little bit for
       a little while, but in the end are a futile effort. The kind that only
       takes one slip to fall back into, but takes every ounce of effort to
       get out of, leaving so little of you left that sometimes you wonder if
       it was even worth the effort. (It is, of course.) So before any of you
       try to start on a "it's just depression; get over it" argument, turn
       around, leave, and most importantly, count your blessings and thank
       whatever god(s) you might believe in that you don't have this kind of
       depression.
       
       Because it sucks.