I never really understood it before. Sure I held hands with friends and comforted them. I watched my mother go through a valium addiction in dealing with her depression. I watched friendships break up over depression. But, I always felt like an outsider looking in. Until now.
Now I get it. The tide of anger and sorrow has washed completely over me like a giant wave of black funk. I can cry at the drop of a hat and that damn hat drops every time I turn.
I'm fighting back. I am. Standing at the door with teeth armed and growls bursting through my chest. That is whenever I don't feel like laying prostrate in my bed not wanting to breath because it's too much effort. I haven't felt like talking, smiling or lifting a finger. Turning my head is a bit too much effort.
Therapy is good. It is. But peeling back the layers. That is difficult and consuming.