There was a time in my life when I didn’t believe in depression. I was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and, like the typical teenager, I thought I knew and understood everything. I know now how absolutely stupid that was, and it’s one of the things I’m most ashamed of. But I just couldn’t fathom how someone could be depressed without a cause–to be honest, I still can’t.
When I first accepted the fact that I was suffering from depression, I thought it was a punishment for being so naïve. I, like most I think, was looking for a “reason,” because society has decided that depression isn’t a real thing. But it is–it’s just a harder to sickness to fight because of the stigma that surrounds it.