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July 2011—Let me tell you about the rock bottom of my depression. It’s not binge-watching Lost for twelve hours straight or lying paralyzed on my bed or being so socially catatonic that my friend had to wave his hand in front of my face to make sure I was still conscious.
Nope, my rock bottom is a five-word sentence.
I was walking along a canal path with my mom, mostly in silence (which was my M.O. at that point), and she suddenly broke down. She asked me in this almost begging voice: “What can I do to help?” Flatly, I replied …
This was the breaking point for me. Because even through the fog I could see that I was no longer just a sinking ship. I was emptiness, sucking the joy out of everything, dragging others down into my depths.
I was the void and I had to get better.
Read the whole story on Medium. (:
July 2011—Let me tell you about the rock bottom of my depression. It’s not binge-watching Lost for twelve hours straight or lying paralyzed on my bed or being so socially catatonic that my friend had to wave his hand in front of my face to make sure I was still conscious.
Nope, my rock bottom is a five-word sentence.
I was walking along a canal path with my mom, mostly in silence (which was my M.O. at that point), and she suddenly broke down. She asked me in this almost begging voice: “What can I do to help?” Flatly, I replied …
This was the breaking point for me. Because even through the fog I could see that I was no longer just a sinking ship. I was emptiness, sucking the joy out of everything, dragging others down into my depths.
I was the void and I had to get better.
Read the whole story on Medium. (: