So you know how sometimes you find yourself dwelling on something? Like you have thoughts clotted in your mind, and want to cut them out of your head, yet are scared because they are still a part of you.

Whether it’s obsessing over something trivial or traumatic, there’s always a reason behind why those particular thoughts keep re-occuring. And since they connect to other thoughts or experiences, dwelling can be useful because self-reflection can lead to growth and greater self-awareness. Especially if you’re focused on one cluster of thoughts, and then you find out that you’re really trying to process a different cluster.

Rather than needing to cut those thoughts out, figuring out how to understand and dissolve them so that they process naturally is the better option. Psyche surgery can be too strong given that clot may be something you need to express to yourself or others.

Brains have natural defense mechanisms and drains, so they’ll activate after you’ve figured out why your thoughts are clustering and clogging your mind. Instead of hating yourself for dwelling, using obsessive thoughts as a guide to your mind can provide you with a chance to become even better than before, and help strengthen mind-defenses.

Your thoughts came from you. Resolve clusters, and let your mind process.

There are three ways to get rid of a stain. Well at least three. You can remove it through bleach or something akin to it. You can cover it up with a patch or some nice design. Or you can stain the rest of the material so that it’s all homogeneous. The last option is perhaps the most dramatic, but also likely the most successful.

If you try bleach, something will always remain and you will be reminded of the stain again and again. If you cover it up with a patch then you will always notice it and be afraid to show what is underneath it. But if you accept the stain and then stain the rest of the material, you will find a new equilibrium.

Quick one: depression is hypothermia. When you’re first warming up, the temperature difference can make it hurt. And then as it gets warmer, it evens out, and you feel better.

And this is my 100th post! Chronologically written. Published. So ignoring drafts. Yeah.

So you know how your mind is a fortress? And you spend all this effort building up all these awesome walls and making extra sure that no one can sneak past your defenses?

Funny thing about fortresses. Is that they keep things in as well as out. Things like emotional waste that you should really find healthier ways to manage than just letting it pile up inside your awesome mind walls.

And another funny thing about fortresses. Is that sometimes the things they keep out are like, emotional or mental nourishment. And you start running low on food rations, and you’re all safe and starving inside your awesomely strong towers.

If you’re smart, you knew to make sure that your towers had no doors so that they were super safe. Then again, if you had doors you could go in and out when you wanted… Now you’re kind of stuck inside.

And let’s not forget, that even if you built your fortress incredibly well, giant floods of misery could always come and seep in, slowly drowning you within your own walls. Or just sweeping them away like sand. Then you’ve got to collect up all those bricks and stones and rebuild your fortress all over again. Completely vulnerable in the mean time.

So yeah… fortresses. They’ve got some important factors to consider. Doors. Waste management. Proper misery drainage. It sucks when your mind walls get messed up or worn down. Just go innovating some new systems to keep your mental defenses as peak as possible.

Depression is an infection. You get a normal wound or cut because someone hurt you, and then they don’t take responsibility and apply an anti-septic apology. So the wound begins to fester. Slowly the infection grows, and that wound which may have started out as a paper cut, makes you sicker and sicker.

And then it forms an abscess. A pocket of disgusting emotion pus. And slowly this abscess fills until at last you pop it, and the pus just spills all over everything, coating your memories and view of the world with its slimy negativity.

The disease spreads too. And what began as one small cut becomes an entire systemic infection. Your skin is covered in rashes. You feel the need to pick and scratch at your wounds, only worsening your condition. Your limbs are inflamed and it just takes someone brushing up against you for you to feel intense pain.

As the infection grows, it becomes harder to cure. While at first all that was needed was an apology, then it becomes someone begging for your forgiveness, and then nothing they can do will suffice. Your sickness grows, and your hatred grows. You start to lose hope of a cure.

Yet somewhere out there is a solution. An anti-biotic that will lessen the fever and bring the infection under control. Or your body’s natural antibodies may kick into gear to resist the disease. Maybe you’ll have scars, or you’ll get outbreaks from time to time. Still, you’ll be able to live without as much pain and your original wound will finally be able to heal.

And although you may feel weaker after your sickness. Or more vulnerable. You’ll be stronger because of it. You’ll have a resistance against future sickness. You’ll know how frightening and painful those types of infections can be, and you’ll also know that you can survive them.

This one’s probably old news: depression is drowning.

At first you tread water in your depression, and just get an occasional gulp by accident. But the water’s cold so the longer you’re in it, the more numb you get. And as you get numb, you lose the ability to swim, so slowly you start to sink under. Beneath the surface  it’s dark, so the farther you sink, the less light you can see. And as it gets darker, you lose sight of which way is up.

Then you swim and swim and swim, not able to find your way back to the surface. Since you don’t know which way is up, you can even end up swimming further into the darkness. The numbness makes it hard to move, so you get tired, and slowly stop being able to swim at all.

And sometimes there are other people in the water with you. They’ll try to pull you down with them, because they don’t want to be alone, or because they think they know which way is up, but are really just as lost as you. Some may even step on top of you in order to push themselves to the surface.

Then there are people who are content to be beneath the surface. They’re not sinking or swimming, just staying below because that’s what they’ve become used to, and that’s what they are comfortable with. Maybe they’ve even grown some gills, so they can survive down there in the dark, cold water. They don’t even want to swim anymore, or for anyone to try to rescue them. Maybe you’ve become like this yourself.

And even if someone does want to be saved, in order for others to help, they often have to dive right in as well. And once they’re in the water, they too start to get numb and lose sight of the light. Maybe that’s even how you ended up drowning. By jumping in after someone in order to try and help them.

And so if someone really wants to assist a depressed person, they can’t just dive in without thinking. They need to be prepared for the cold and for the darkness. They need to know how long they can hold their breath, and when to resurface. Diving in after a depressed person is foolish unless you know what you are getting yourself into. Just like diving in after someone who is drowning only makes sense if you’re an incredibly advanced swimmer.

Still, maybe someone can jump in with a bungee cord attached. Or by grabbing the hands of people above the surface, you’ll form a chain to follow out. Or somehow there will be a way to get a light down beneath the surface. Or the sun will heat up the water so that it’s easier to swim. Or through sheer luck or force of will you may find your way back to the surface. There’s always other possibilities, and so even if you’re drowning one day, you may finally get a gulp of air on another.

How about this one?

Depression is your rival at *insert competitive sport of choice* and whenever you are winning at *foozball* your depression just goes ahead and resets the counter.

Sometimes it will let you get a slight lead. Just enough so that you’re feeling pretty good about yourself, and then PLINK, it resets the counter again.

Depression may get a lead at various times, but it cannot ever truly win. Because only humans can win at *foozball,* and depression is just a condition that humans happen to have, not an actual human. And so no matter what, eventually you pull into the lead and depression is forced to reset the counter. Sending you back to the start, and making you feel like you’ve lost everything.

And your depression needs you to keep playing. It can only beat you when you’re playing, and so it finds ways of preventing you from wising up and walking away. It convinces you that not playing would be a wuss move, and it jeers at you. It distracts you from the fact that you don’t really care about *foozball* that much anyway.

Still, you’re not allowed to go below zero at *foozball* and so when the counter resets, you’re actually tied with depression. And that’s the moment to stop playing and just walk away as your depression throws a hissy. It will yell and scream, trying to convince you to play another round. And you may go back again and again to play *foozball* with your depression, even though you know it’s not really worth it.

You don’t need to beat your depression. You don’t need to win and force your depression to lose. If you tie your depression and then end the game at that, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost. It just means that you have found something better to do. Eventually, your depression will as well.

What’s a good metaphor for depression? There’s a billion of them out there. That whole bell jar thing being particularly notable.

How about a sink. Your mind’s a divided sink. And one basin is for the good memories, and one basin is for the not so good memories.

But the good stuff sink has a leak. So even when you try to fill the basin, it slowly empties until it’s dry. And the bad stuff sink has a clog. So even when it should be going down the drain, the bad stuff keeps pouring in.

And then the bad stuff sink fills to the top, and spills over into the good stuff sink. Then even your good memories have been tainted by the bad ones.

Is the goal then to unclog the bad memories sink, and patch up the good memories sink? Or is it to merge the two sinks into one, and just have a big basin of mixed memories?

So instead of psychologists and psychiatrists, depressives, like everyone really, just need to find a reliable plumber.