At times, talking to people about my depression is such a trivial matter. The main problem is that there's no "real cause" for it. I've got a great job, a wonderful wife, 2 beautiful and funny girls. I've got an incredible support group of friends and family. But the Beast still sits there. Waiting to chew me up whenever it feels like it.
There doesn't have to be a trigger. I'm taking medication and I've seen a counselor. I'm well aware of how illogical it is to think of myself any less of a human being. But the Beast doesn't care about logic. That's one of the reasons people have issues with depression. Rational and logical approaches don't matter. It doesn't care.
I perfectly understand how it affects others around me. I understood before all the pharmaceutical ads told me it did. I don't like talking about it because I don't want it to feel like I'm fishing for compliments but at the same time, if you ignore it, it grows and festers inside you like a cancer.
So, I deal with it. I deal with it wit hthe help of my family and friends and a some Prozac and some counseling. I try and address it as rationally as I can and use every weapon at my disposal to keep it at bay. But sometimes, sometimes, the Beast just doesn't give a fuck what you try and do.