I woke up this morning feeling depressed. Really depressed. After bemoaning my fate and wondering how it could be connected to the fact that I really don't want to be here and then considering how much wellbutrin I should take, reality grabbed hold of me.
I have been reading books on death and cancer. I am trying to come to grips with my own mortality. I truly believe a major problem with our society today is our fear of and subsequent denial of death. Paradoxically, if we want to live, we must acknowledge the reality of death. But, we do so much to avoid that knowledge: addictions cover the knowledge (addictions to work to computers, to substances, to shopping, to just about anything you can imagine). Addictions and everything we do to avoid facing the fact of our own mortality brings immediate death. We swap grappling with our ultimate death with immediate death of the soul.
And so, I think my early morning (and continuing) feelings were not depression but sadness and grief. Sadness and grief at my own mortality. I find it interesting that among my first reactions was to reach for a pill to remove the suffering and let me get own with "life."
(Now, for real depression, medicine can be a great boon. Depression can prevent people from living and medicine can help.)
Suffering is a part of life. If we do not feel pain, we cannot feel joy. When we deaden the pain of suffering, we deaden the receptors for joy also.