There are days, not often, when as I wake and consider what the day holds in store for me that I want to roll over and go back to bed. Thankfully for me, those days are few and the feeling passes quickly as I look into myself and draw on the need to meet my obligations.
So many struggle with self-doubt and depression in today's world. They are excused and counseled about how to improve and cope with it. I wonder how it was a hundred years ago when depression as a diagnosis didn't exist? Did people face the same problems and did they deal with it any better or worse than we do today?
We see increases in suicide, and anti-depressent medications, sometimes leading to life long use. Is the suicide rate lower or higher than it was a hundred years ago? How do we, or really can we, help people to move from debilitating depression to happiness? Isn't this a journey each of us must travel on our own?