For the last couple of days , I’ve been going through one of my many depressive episodes.
Medically, these episodes don’t meet the criteria to be called “depressive” . But I call them that because they remind me of the times when I was medically psychologically officially depressed. Same darkness, same hopelessness.
Yesterday my mood wasn’t low. It was underground. Strong enough to drag me with it and watch me gasping for my breath, and laugh.
But yesterday was different. for the first time I was depressed, but not lonely. I had a chest under my head, a hand in my hair, and whispers in my ear: I love you, it’s ok.
Yesterday, for the first time, I wanted to beat my depressive episode.