Bottom line, depression is a cruel mistress. I know this for a fact. In the worst part of my depression, I didn’t just suffer internally, but externally, too. As in, my personal hygiene went downhill. I hid certain parts of it pretty well. Greasy hair can be hidden with a hat, unbrushed teeth with minty gum, three days of the same Tee shirt with a sweatshirt. What couldn’t be hidden, though, was the state of my room. I could have easily cleaned up the various messes. But, I didn’t. Probably in a wain attempt to get my mother to realize that I wasn’t okay. She didn’t, though, and I was just left with the mess.