I don’t like the word false. They’re not false realities, just overly-focused-on ones.

No, sorry, they’re not false stories. As a recently depressed person I had real stories of personal mistakes and shit happening to me that was a lot at once. I could list them to anyone and they would say, ok, I would be depressed too. All real events.

Then I got a health scare diagnosis that literally said my days on earth were very possibly numbered and short. Overnight my depression went away. From knowing I was dying? On top of all else?

Yes. It shifted, instantly to me focusing on all that’s awesome in my everyday. I forgot all about the little annoyances and past/future concerns. Everything became deep and rich around me. I learned how to love deeply, those in my life because I wanted to milk each moment before I went into the black.

Perspective. The loss and shit of my past was real, but I no longer wasted time thinking about it. I live in the NOW, and ride every tiny beauty inside it. I thrive on what matters in the end now and ignore the rest as there is no time to waste. Depression is a waste of time. Anxiety is a laughable waste of my minutes. Being calm and happy is easy now.

If I escape this somehow, it will be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Depression isn’t about believing lies. It’s about self pity and a wasteful perspective.

When you truly life well, you milk the best around you. Most of the elderly get this, as they feel their mortality deeper.