The clouds are lifting.

I’m writing this post hesitantly, because I’m about to assert something I don’t yet know to be sure.

Seems like the clouds are lifting. Right now, I feel a lot like you do after a bout of hiccups, where they’ve stopped but you’re still anticipating the next one.

The thing is, even at this point, I’m not sure what anyone could have done to help me get out of the darkness.

I kept going, putting one foot in front of the other, but very little could lift my mood more than temporarily. Life felt dark.

I awoke each day feeling like there was literally a weight on my chest, and everything seemed completely and utterly pointless. I couldn’t trust anyone. The brighter spots appear to have been dinner with a friend, and a movie with another friend, but I can’t expect my friends to be constantly there every waking moment to hold my head up.

This bout seems to have been about six weeks long.

I don’t know what triggered it, and I don’t know what caused it to stop.

The only other analogy I have for it, is that it’s almost like a bout of the flu. You might start to see a few symptoms of the flu developing, and you think you have a cold, then suddenly you’re flat on your back, and it feels like you’re dying, and it will never end. Then after a couple of weeks you start to feel a little better, then it’s just a sniffle, and then you’re OK again.

You can’t tell someone with the flu, “Just stop having the flu. Get up, and get back to the gym, or go for a run.” The flu doesn’t work like that, but depression doesn’t give you the option of lying in bed and getting better. There doesn’t feel like there’s anything to take that crushing weight off your chest, except time.

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