As sure as I was born with blue eyes and a natural affinity for anything with cheese, I was born with depression. Even just reading that is enough to make some people pretty uncomfortable. The word “depression” often summons all sorts of images to one’s head: a crumpled up human being in the corner of a dark room, folded into the fetal position, shaking with sobs. Mascara stains on cheeks. Cut marks on wrists. Black, empty space. It’s not wrong that the very word itself has a negative, dark connotation.