My first memory of depression is from the fifth grade. As if I had walked into a thick cloud bank, things that used to feel clear were now obscured. Joy receded into the background and sadness closed in around me. My back ached and my heart was heavy as lead. Nothing was right with the world....
“Our chest, rising and falling, knows that the strange verb “to be” means more simply “to breathe”; it knows that the maples and the birches are breathing, that the beaver pond inhales and exhales in its own way, as do the stones and the mountains and the pipes...
There’s a dense fog outside my window. There’s a grey hue inside my mind. There’s a flat, dull affect to everything I see. There’s a murkiness to my thoughts. I reach for words, for memories, and they float through the fog, just out of reach. I have low motivation to go...
