What daeken said. Improving my mood translates almost exactly into simply acting like I would if I wasn't depressed. I don't try to pretend to be happy or fak

What daeken said. Improving my mood translates almost exactly into simply acting like I would if I wasn't depressed. I don't try to pretend to be happy or fake it (though I do use cognitive therapy techniques.) Instead, I just try to do the same activities I would do if I wasn't depressed. I call someone on the phone and ask them how they're doing instead of sitting and thinking about myself. I make a healthy dinner instead of ordering pizza. I get some exercise instead of lying on the couch. If I work, I release myself from self-criticism (I'm so slow, I'm hopelessly stupid, I'm accomplishing nothing) and concentrate on the work instead. If I watch a movie, I allow myself to enjoy it instead of thinking the whole time about how much I suck and how I should be doing something productive instead. It's hard to do those things, of course. The essence of depression is hopelessness. For me, it's hopelessness about myself, a deep conviction of my own worthlessness and the impossibility of ever not being ashamed of myself. When you think that way, it's hard to see the point of making dinner or going for a run. Long term, the biggest factor for me was to slowly learn to disregard the reality of depression. By now I have a long enough perspective on my life and my depression that I am better at seeing it as a temporary illusion. I knew a girl who had persistent auditory hallucinations; she heard voices constantly, angels and demons mostly. She knew they weren't real. At least she said she knew, and she usually did, but when she didn't, it was a problem. Coping with depression is a bit like that -- a constant effort to disregard what your brain thinks it knows. So when I go out the door for a run, or start cooking dinner, a big and very persuasive part of my brain is convinced it's stupid and pointless, even while it's making me feel better. By the time I'm done running or cooking, I'm completely aware -- with my whole brain -- that it was worthwhile, and the fact that I've accomplished something worthwhile in itself discredits the illusion. That doesn't completely dispel the depression, not for long. Soon enough, the next activity I want to make myself do still feels stupid and pointless. But it makes it easier to cope, and it reduces the severity of the symptoms. The older I get, the more consistently I manage to make myself do the things that make me feel better. When I was younger, depression was overwhelming and terrifying. Now it's mostly just miserable instead of scary. Especially now that I know I can hold down a job through a bout of depression, and my friends won't desert me, it's a lot less frightening.