Well. I started this blog to write my way through my depression. Instead, I took the ugly way out. I isolated myself and just fully embraced the suck. I cried every day for three and a half months. It wasn’t always full-on ugly crying, but there were some amount of tears every single day. In February, the grief didn’t cut so much, but the loneliness sure did. I felt like I could disappear and nobody would notice.

I kept fairly quiet about my mental state; I didn’t let anyone know quite how bad it was. I have Major Depressive Disorder, so when I say “I’m in a depressive episode,” I don’t mean I’m a little sad. I mean I feel nothing. I feel like I don’t fucking exist. I don’t even feel like I’m in my own body but somehow I am still able to make it move. Existance becomes the most exhausting experience. I had a few nights where I hated that I had real responsibilities in the world and couldn’t just tap out.

But I sat in it. I let myself get dark again and I just honored that it’s part of how I experience life. All of my life chapters have an ugly ending, and then we rise from the ashes and keep moving.

I let myself burn. And I did it alone, and I’m really proud of myself for surviving again.

I always used to hope that the phrase, “it doesn’t get easier – you get stronger,” was actually true.

For anyone that’s wondering: I can confirm that it is.

xx.