Today I would like to tell a story from my life, in order to show that:
- Problems occur in all
- You can not always cope with them by yourself
The beginning was a hard break several years ago. This was my first love, and my childish psyche could not stand, and I broke down. However, at first I thought that nothing serious. Everyone is sad and everyone has difficult moments. And even when this condition dragged on for a 1,5 year I didn't attach any importance to this, especially after accepting the fact that after that time it became much easier for me.
All this time I thought that I was just such a man: a gloomy loner. People change, and now "with age" from a cheerful smiling child, I turned into a grumpy calf and resigned myself to it. And then lived for several more years.
Before the next recess. In the autumn of 2016, it was again. Everything is exactly the same as 4 years ago. Only this time I either became weaker, or did not want to pass such a second time. I was very afraid of this condition and sincerely tried to escape from its in all normal (and not very) ways. I think it is in such situations that people sit down on alcohol and drugs. But I was lucky.
At this time I lived with my friends who observed me like this: I did not eat, I could not sleep (only if I poured a bottle of something before going to bed), constantly bellowing, and the state of apathy made it impossible to do absolutely nothing - neither to walk on work, nor in the university. With my head I perfectly understood, that continuing so to live like this wouldn't good for me and it is necessary to take situation in hands. Last time I was able to do it, but this time for some reason nothing and no one could motivate me to do it. I already did not care. Morally, I was already ready to rot in some kind of stash with booze and cigarettes. I humbled myself and could not find the strength. But I was lucky. Lucky it was these friends who cared about me and my condition. And one evening, one of them told me that his sister was in a similar situation and she was diagnosed with "Depression" and put in a hospital for treatment.
It dawned on me. Is this really a depression? I always refused, saying that only little girls who were not allowed to walk were suffering from depression, because they did not have lessons for tomorrow at school. But no, such diagnoses really put, and even treat.
The next day I blew up and found a psychological support phone. All told and there I was first put the same diagnosis: depression. And they sent me to the consultation center of the clinic in St. Petersburg, where it is being treated. I called and went there, went to a consultation, and there they told me the same thing, and insisted on hospitalization. So I went to the Neurosis Clinic for a month.
I really got help there. For a month, I was fed antidepressants, lectured about the disease, and conducted psychotherapy both in the group and in private. There were also consultations of a psychologist and physiotherapy. I was surprised that we have such treatment on a free basis, and most importantly, that they helped me
As a result, I want to say to all who read that there is no need to be afraid of this and even more to close. You will be sure to help. And if you see symptoms from your relatives and/or loved ones, I highly recommend that you hold a conversation on this topic and offer help, but in no case should you forcibly cure it. 
