I was thinking about my depression these days. It seems that I can keep it at bay sometimes but, eventually, it always come back after a while. In a way, it looks like cancer: you can’t completely destroy it without crippling the patient and the only way it to keep it at bay or do the waiting game.
I had two stories of cancer in my family and none of them ended well. My gramma became so weak after doing quimiotherapy that she didn’t even looked like the same person. After a while, she didn’t even sounded like the old lady I knew: her memory failed constantly and, sometimes, I was even hard to understand what she was talking.
I know I could do a “mental quimio”, but I’m always thought that something like that would change my personality and I believe that we are the sum of our problems and our virtues. You take any of them and you are not the same person again.
The whole point of that is that, now, when I think about my depression, it is not “when I get cured”, it is more like “when it will finally kill me.” It is not as bad as you may think. Honestly, knowing that I can’t get rid of it and that, sometime, it will kill me, make things look a lot more clearer in the future.