I’ve battled severe depression for as long as I can remember, all the way back to the allegedly sunny days of my childhood. Thanks to meds and therapy and supportive friends and a host of other resources, I don’t suffer now the way I used to. I can safely say I’m actively in recovery.

But I can’t say I remain untouched. Years of depression have clearly left their mark on me—most notably in the negativity I carry around with me like a security blanket.

Numerous boyfriends along the way have called me out on my frequent observations about both the major and the minuscule deficits of life. “Terri, do you always have to see the downside of everything?” they’ve asked. Fortunately, some of my complaining passes as black humor, which has helped me salvage my relationships.

But I’ll be the first to admit that I do see through a glass, darkly. It feels so engrained in me, this........

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