What a good idea.
Depression feels like someone came and shoved out your brains. You can’t think; instead you sit in a stupor, head in your hands, shoulders slumped forward. All of the energy has somehow been drained out of your body; your arms are heavy and your chest is heavy. All you can do is sit there and think about how depressed you are. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. Despite being hypomanic the week before last you can’t remember the last time you felt happy. Worst of all, you recall distinctly telling yourself last time this happened that it would never happen again. You would take your meds, exercise, eat right, and use your coping strategies. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
You try to think of your coping strategies, the things that you had discussed with your therapist, but you can’t. You’re too tired to call anyone. You’re too tired…
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