I might get some backlash on this, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m in a place right now where I’m not really worried about it. Writing this is a struggle, but I’m hoping it’s therapeutic. In other words, I’m in a bad place, but there’s a touch of anger powering me through.
I should state the following:
I’m NOT a medical professional in any capacity. All the opinions here are my own, the experiences my own.
I’ve stated it before, but never as blatantly as I’m about to. I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. In other words, depression.
Depression and I have a strange relationship. As awful as it may sound, I sometimes refer to it simply as Dee. Yes, I’m aware it isn’t a real person, but it comforts me more often than real people do, and that’s a problem…
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