For years it felt like I was living in darkness. I didn’t know how to feel good or normal. If I didn’t know what was wrong with me, how could I fix it? My parents did everything they could to try and make me happy, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough. I think that if someone would have recognized my depression for what it was early on then I would have had a much better childhood; but in my family, clinical depression wasn’t even a concept. Everything could be cured through circumstance. It was a very superficial way of looking at life, but it’s all anyone knew.