Crippling beyond all the other debilitating aspects of a depressed mood is the pervasive feeling of hopelessness.   Without hope, you know, might as well throw in the towel.  Things are horrible and there is no hope, no chance, of things ever getting better, in fact, they are getting noticeably worse.  The darkness is complete and there is no hope for another sunrise, though the sun might very well rise again the next morning.

Hope can be extinguished in different ways, but it is a regular and gigantic feature of depression.   Depression is said to be rage turned against the self, and I think it probably is.   If the self-rage is there, and fear, and loss of hope– and no gentleness in how you handle your disappointment or frustration– good luck to you, baby.  

False reason creeps in to justify the certainty of depression.  If I try this it will go badly, things will be even worse, what’s the point?  And truly, without hope there is no point to trying to do anything differently.

I remember this dilemma well, and without fondness.   Pain every day, all day, no reason but suffering.   Bunk dat, man.  No reason to punish yourself.  But learning how not to inflict that on yourself requires faith, which comes from hope.  No hope?  Good night.