Last winter I had a touch of depression. I didn't realise at the time though because it came out in the form of social anxiety attacks. The thought of going out and socialising, or even going busy places with lots of strangers (e.g. London) was all a bit much for me. Life circumstances have changed and that has all passed now but not without a fair bit of fight.
Not everybody knows this but I sometimes struggle with anxiety attacks. They're not your typical attack as they go straight to my tummy instead. But the fear of having one can itself become such a problem that it has stopped me from going in to London, socialising or going to new places.
Adventure needs to be thrust upon us from time to time. Otherwise it is all too easy to become anxious and depressed at the monotony of life. We can become fearful of anything outside of that. Going from point a to b in a straight line is all I do. To do anything else felt illogical and a waste of my precious energy. That is until one day.
Here in the UK it’s basically expected that you’re a depressed sod. Any outward expression of happiness or enthusiasm is mostly shunned. I think we’re pretty famous for it actually. I threw caution to the wind when I married an American, the antithesis of the British predisposition for grumpiness.