There’s nothing particularly awesome about depression. It’s fucking horrible when you know that everyone else somehow got a less buggy version of the same game. We all experience it a little differently, too.
I think you’ll know what I mean when I say that the random Dark Days might be the worst, though.
A Dark Day is a random day in the middle of a good stretch–a week or so of days where you’re almost normal. By your own personal standards, you’re a regular ray of sunshine, and everything is actually going fairly well. You’re sleeping okay, you’re thinking clearly, and, gosh, it almost seems like you’ve got this shit beat after all. Things really are looking up! Hooray for therapy, meds, and all that effort!
Then, out of nowhere, the emotional steamroller of depression crushes you again, and you’re curled up in bed, sobbing as quietly as possible [so nobody notices, you wouldn’t want to disturb everyone else with your fucking bullshit problems, now would you], and you don’t even fucking know why.
Dark Day. Dark. Fucking. Day.
I had one of those yesterday.
And now I feel like I’m right back where I started. I’m all the way at the bottom of that fucking pit.
But I think I remember the path back up.