In the psychological literature, depression is often seen as a defense against sadness. But I’ll take sadness any day. There is no contest. Sadness carries identification. You know where it’s been and you know where it’s headed. Depression carries no papers. It enters your country unannounced and uninvited. Its origins are unknown, but its destination always dead-ends in you.

All their 'helpful' comments imply that if I'd only do_______, my problems would be solved. Like it's all within my grasp, able to be managed and mastered, if only I would try harder, longer, better. As I nod my head in polite and pathetic appreciation for their input, I scream inside, 'Shut up. Shut up. Unless you've been lost in this particular section of hell yourself, don't you dare try to give me directions.