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More than that, Kierkegaard maintained that depression was the signal defect of his own age, the defect “that has robbed us of the courage to command, the courage to obey, the power to act, the confidence to hope.”
There is much that I should and don’t know, but I am confident that I know what crippling depression feels like.
Buddhist teacher once told me that all the self-improvement regimes were tinged with violence since they all presupposed a lack of self-acceptance, that you are not good enough to start with.
Realistic guilt is one thing, neurotic self-immolation another—and it is in the latter that depressives excel.
