I just had a thought cross my mind that I happen to think a lot. I've been going through a bad depression for the last 6 months that I can't seem to crawl out of. I often compare myself to others, especially my parents since I've lived with them for over 10 years (I'm 41). I think "Why can't you be happy, Mage? Your parents don't go to therapy or take meds so why do you have to do that to get better? They seem to get by on sheer force of will." Of course they were born in the 1930's to poor families so maybe they just "had to" develop coping skills that I never had to develop. I had it easy growing up compared to them. Maybe that's my problem? I don't know.

I also think that since depression runs on both sides of my family, it had to pick someone to smother and it picked me. I feel as though it's some sort of malicious ghostly entity roaming amongst all my relatives until it found the slightest sign of weakness in me and drove its depression dagger deep within me and the wound, like Frodo's wound at Weathertop, will never fully heal.

Should I be like my parents? Should I just get mad at depression and decide to just punch it in the face and get on with life? Part of me wonders if I may just "want to feel this way". Like maybe I somehow enjoy the melancholy. I admit, I have been one to watch sad movies on purpose while I'm half drunk and just cry and cry. I don't drink anymore.

I'm rambling. Sigh. Let's see, what's my point...oh yeah, is it not wrong for me to think that because the people around me who are related to me seem to be coping with whatever life throws at them that I should be equally capable of doing the same? I know I am not them, but I struggle with this every day.