What if depression was just the rebirth of a star?

I'm not a doctor, so I can't give you any advice on how to deal with your thing. But I can share my life experience with you, and tonight's menu is depression.

I read so many people in this stage, and after suffering from it for several years, I think I'm in a position to share with you a point of view I've never read before. First and foremost, I'd like to rename depression as "compression", because I believe it's a natural human state, not a disease. In the same way that a star at the end of its life, in the silence of the void, collapses from within.

At first, you have this loss of motivation, you don't know why it's there. You think it'll pass, but at the same time, on a day-to-day basis, there are lots of things that don't go right. Like a star that runs out of hydrogen in its core, and the delicate balance between fusion and gravity sends it into a process of collapse.

Then comes a long agony in which the star resists this collapse. It continues to draw on its last reserves of hydrogen, knowing that in the end there's not much left. The inner fire dries up. Where once energy sustained every smile, every impulse, it gradually ceases to shine, becoming a lightless pit, an insatiable gravity that sucks in everything: hopes, desires, the flavors of the world.

After using up hydrogen, then helium, carbon, neon, oxygen and silicon, the star fuses heavier and heavier nuclei. Eventually, it creates an iron core, which unfortunately no longer generates energy. This moment of rupture, when the flame that has become a spark awakens, is when the dark, damaged star explodes with a silent scream that lights up the night. This compression of distress, of sorrow concentrated to the extreme, is transformed into precious metal as it explodes.

As a result, the energy at the star's center runs out, and the iron core reaches critical mass. It suddenly collapses in on itself in a fraction of a second. An implosion then takes place, producing a gigantic explosion: a supernova. This cataclysmic phenomenon expels the outer layers, enriching space with the heavy elements synthesized in the star's core and during the explosion.

This inner explosion creates a fertile field in which other ideas and values emerge. It's as if the death of the star were ultimately a rebirth of something new, in another form. Fragments scatter to fertilize new worlds. From chaos, pain and silence spring the seeds of creation to come. Sadness, which seemed like a dead end, is transformed into a magnificent gift: nourishing the universe, tinting it with unsuspected nuances.

So, to you, being all sad and depressed, from one star to another transforming, I have only one piece of advice. You have the choice of resisting the process, of slowing it down, but some people spend their lives in the storm. Or you can accept compression for what it is: a positive cycle of transformation.

RESPIRE.
Let the process unfold with confidence.
Embrace the pain, the sadness, the sorrows when they come, because there's not much else you can do, bedridden, anyway.
Breathe.