When horror stops being so scary

I’ve been trying to ignore the nagging feeling of my depression trying to pull me back down. For the most part, lately, it has worked. However, I’m not sure how long I can hold it back.

A good friend of mine is staying with me for a couple of days. She’s bipolar, so we have the depressive aspect in common. We were discussing how December through June were especially hard for both of us. I was able to casually and honestly discuss my depressive feelings without judgement.

“I was standing at work almost every day wondering where the nearest train was and how fast it was going because I was ready to lay in front of it”

“Same, I was standing on a bridge with H and thinking about how badly I wanted to throw myself off it”

I love my husband, but if I said that statement (the first one was me by the way) to him, he wouldn’t know how to handle it. People who don’t suffer with these feelings don’t fully comprehend what they mean.

There’s comfort in knowing someone else gets it, without judgement.


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