live blog from a depressive episode
Usually, I write about my bipolar disorder when I’m well.
It’s much easier, then, to see the beauty in depression. When I’m happy and vibrant and stable, I have an odd sort of respect for my depression and the compassion it’s given me. It’s probably a bit like the way mothers remember childbirth; they forget the pain it causes and feel like they could do it all over again. Between episodes, I forget how excruciating depression can be. That’s when I find the bravery to write about it. I’ve never tried to write candidly about depression while I’m in the throes of it – until now.
Right now, I’m in the middle of a depressive episode.
The past three weeks have been a melancholic blur of heavy, tortured sleep, despondency and a numbness in my heart that won’t lift – no matter how many pictures of dogs I look at on the internet. I could feel it coming before it arrived – I sensed little shifts downwards in mood and it became harder to get out of bed each morning. I could feel the exhaustion setting in, like a thick fog around my brain. My limbs started feeling heavier, along with my heart.
Read more at Metro.
Picture by Liberty Antonia Sadler.