I went through a major depression about nine years ago.
I was going to school a couple of hours away and went home to visit one weekend and my mom was nowhere to be found. After contacting my uncle, he found out she had been thrown in jail and we went to go bail her out. She was vague about why she got arrested, just waved it off as some bullshit thing, and that was it.
Flash forward a few months later, I get a frantic call from my aunt asking if I had talked to my mom lately because she hadn't heard from her in four days. I hadn't heard from my mom either, which was somewhat odd because we talked almost every day.
My mom completely disappeared; I soon found out that when she got arrested, it was just the beginning of bigger charges coming her way (turns out, she loved to embezzle money from her jobs. Guess this explains why she went through so many.)
I fell apart. My mom is crazy, make no mistake, but I was her only child and she completely abandoned me. And she left me with shit ton of headaches: the bail money, my private school tuition and a ton debt that she left in my name. The bail bonds people were harassing me; endless phone calls with hostile accusations about how I must be hiding my mom. They drove up to the college town I was in and showed up at my house and my job, never without threats, called me so many times at all hours that I had to change my number.
So pair that with trying to pay for school on server's salary, having horrible credit because my mom had been using my name for years, and finding out that my mom had led this double life, did nothing for my usual sunny disposition.
Looking back, it's fascinating how easily it was for me to slip into such a deep state of depression. I didn't want to be depressed. I didn't want to be unhappy. But being able to not be depressed seemed improbable at at times impossible. The weight of it was much lighter than the heavy burden of trying to be feel happy.
I didn't know how to handle that my mom had this whole separate life leading up to this and now as a fugitive. Or, after talking to my grandparents, that just about everything my mom had ever told me was a lie. So I turned to vodka. And rum. And tequila. And then cocaine, which became my first choice to hide from depression. Even though it was temporary, it made the situation a little easier for me. This went on for a few years.
Eventually I found help through friends and myself. After doing this for so long, I realized that it was just exhausting being so sad and depressed all the time. It was a relief to finally want to be seek out reasons to be happy again.