Depression Is Like A Dear Friend
I take her everywhere, only now I leave her in the car.
There was a time when I was never without my depression. Instead of trying to get rid of her, I took her every where I went. We had become good friends, my depression and I. In time, we had developed a good working relationship.
Before we had come to this agreement, my depression used to pull all kinds of shenanigans in an effort to get me to notice her. She, like I, needed my constant reassurance and validation. If there was even a hint that I could do without her, she made herself known to me loud and clear. Before long, I found that I felt the same way about her. That didn’t mean that she became less of a pain in the ass, on the contrary.
One of her favorite things to do was to sit on me while I was trying to get up in the morning. She has always been a little overweight, so after a prolonged struggle, she usually won and back to sleep I went. She had gained so much weight that there were times when I thought I couldn’t breathe. During those times, I thought that I would have to…
