The nature of clinical depression is that I could want to kill myself in the midst of perfection and paradise.
That's how I could tell there was a problem--things were great by any standard and I would lie awake each morning in a cold sweat shaking in anger and fear.
When things are crappy, and your unhappy, that's normal. When things are great and you feel like snuffing yourself out of some free-floating, nonsensical emotional pain, there is a problem.
At that point, there are two choices: you can get help or you can kill yourself.
I could've taken a pill or a bullet. I chose to take the pill. It doesn't matter at all if people criticize me for that. I'm still here. Heh!
That's an excellent way of describing it.
i think you made the more rational choice!
anyone who doesn't understand that just doesn't know much about life yet.
not getting treatment for depression is as sensible as not getting treatment for diabetes or parkinson's disease.