You know, my doctor once explained it to me this way: "You have a type of cancer. It can be treated with medication, but you will have it for the rest of your life, and it will go in and out of remission. And if it spreads, it can be fatal."
He was referring to my chronic, lifelong depression disorder.
You don't get over depression. It's not curable. It's a disease that eats away at you over time. It hurts. It IS physical as well as mental. When cancer patients die, we don't fault them for not being strong enough to fight it off. So don't assume that someone who commits suicide had a choice. Just as cancer eats away at your body, depression eats away at your soul. It alters your thoughts, it drains your energy and it tricks you into thinking that you will never feel better. It is a sinister parasite that invades your body and takes control. But because it does not manifest physically, we tend to dismiss it as weakness.
Believe me, it's not weak to fight against the black hopelessness every single day, force yourself to go to work, talk to people, act like you're happy, remain responsible and functional. It's a Herculean effort. It's exhausting. Feigning normality is painful, but it's better than admitting that you're depressed. Nobody wants to hear that because nobody knows how to deal with it, least of all the afflicted.
Depression is a serial killer. Its victims weren't asking for it. Chris Cornell was murdered. Don't fault him for succumbing to the wounds inflicted.