I was depressed throughout my 20s. People didn't say that though. I was known as the pessimistic one in my group. I preferred to think of it as realistic. We differed in that opinion.
My friends and family didn't understand, but I read books and saw pieces of me in there.
Through a series of counselors, an awesome husband, a cool kid, a masters degree, and some medication I found my way to some sort of happiness. But that doesn't mean I am not sad. I live my life every day. Working towards happiness.
I find myself viewing the depressed moms in the books I read as sympathetic characters of what I could have been. Why did I waste depression on my twenties when I had to get up every day and go to work? It would have been so much cooler to lay in bed all day in my moomoo while I forced my 6 year old to an early adulthood by looking after me. Why did I waste it on friend who were transient, unfaithful and generally lacking in inspirational ability?
I should have put it off til now. What a waste. Now I have to plan better for the rest of my thirties and forties. I should make better use of them. Right?