Writing Depression As A Hidden Plot Device

What do you know about Depression? You, like me, might have thought it was about being a sad sac and dragging oneself everywhere with your lips permanently turned down like this :(.
But that's not depression; that's sadness.
Who knew? They're not the same.

I was like smack dab in the middle of writing Nadia before I realized that my poor heroine is super-depressed. Her depression of course stemmed from unresolved childhood traumas and feeling out of control in her life.
But if you read Nadia, it might not jump out at you like, whoa, this book is a black hole. Oh no, she's sassy, sarcastic, strong, resilient; which makes it all the more difficult to recognize that she is drowning.
I think that a lot of people are going about their lives, living with trauma, living with depression and just getting on with it, assuming that "life is a bitch and then you die" right?
The road less traveled, a novel by some psychologist whose name I forgot, literally begins with the sentence, Life is Hard. I learned it as a part of my higher diploma in counseling studies.
So when I watched The Secret and it said the exact opposite thing. That life should be easy, not hard. That things come to us because we summon them; it was a paradigm shift hard to fathom.
Both of these things are true though. Life is hard but how easily you navigate it does depend on your state of mind.

So how can you control your state of mind when you don't even know you're depressed?
It's a conundrum.
I might be making Cinderella By Any Other Name sound uncommonly deep when you could just disregard all this and read a story.
But I cannot escape from my own introspection.
The good news is, I am also open to hearing yours.
So, February 14th, let the theories abound.

Alexa? Play Rewind by Sauti Sol

This song has been keeping me going these last few weeks. I don't know what's happening with me.
Depression?
Hormones?
Life is a bitch and then you die?
Any of the above?
None of the above?

I don't know.
I expect a normal amount of bad things have been happening to me and in the world but my persona and my spirit seem to be dwelling a lot on the negative. Also, I'm in that situation where I have work but I haven't yet been paid for it, so I'm broke. Poverty - temporary or permanent - is always depressing.
I'm also writing sci-fi which is my least favorite genre and so I write really slowly. It's frustrating.
On top of all these micro-frustrations, Shadowhunters was canceled for no perceptible reason. I rely on Magnus Bane as an antidepressant. It's a crisis for me to think I might never see a new outfit on him again after 2019. I need for someone to step in and fucking save that show!

None of my playlists are working to lift my mood; it's affecting my ability to work, sleep, and not go off at my child for doing things that are just him.
Example? Yesterday he bought me a coke zero...and then he drank it.
Like...
This is typical behavior but yesterday it just made me so mad. Like what kind of selfish...?!?
But I recognized the overreaction of my reaction and went to bed to fume there rather than engage him. He's been side-eyeing me all day like he's waiting for an explosion, walking on eggshells and I can't even tell him that things are fine because they're not. I never just go to bed without a word. We make a point of 'good night' and 'good morning' and 'how was your days?' around here.
It's going to be okay.
I'm listening to rewind on repeat.
And transferring my thoughts to paper...or whatever we call this. Screen?
Siphoning out my frustration and sprinkling it on all of yous.

I've been seeing a lot of posts on social media about how people don't post their failures on the internet. That's because there are vultures waiting to gather around and pick at your bones if you do. There is an impulse to protect yourself. There is also a curious freedom in letting people know when life is one huge suckage, major.
Don't try this at home folks though. You gotta have world class shock absorbers and an ability not to care what people think. The genuine thing; not the whole 'look at me giving zero fucks' which is actually you giving all the fucks and fronting.
On a happier note, my favorite cousin (yeah okay, cat's out) is in town and we had a nice lunch yesterday. He's one of the few people in the world who I can talk to on a cellular level. Usually, people's walls are up and they only let you in so far and no farther. But when me and him are together, the walls are all down. We can say anything to each other. It's curiously satisfying to have that. It's rare as unicorns.
We were discussing expectations versus reality and how people have all these "shoulds" that they live within, especially when it comes to romantic relationships. People walk into relationships with expectations; they wanna know right away if 'you're serious' and 'do you see this leading to marriage?' There's no room for organic growth anymore. Nothing feels real, it's all manufactured for the consumption of whatever invisible audience we are all performing for.
Most people have forgotten what "real" even feels like.
Oh well...
Add this song to your playlist.