One week ago today, almost at the very hour I am writing this, I was ready to cash in my chips. I could not find the good in anything. Everything seemed pointless. I felt like a burden to everyone around me. I had no hope of ever feeling any better.

hqdefaultI was done.

And yet here I sit tonight, living and breathing. Not only did I somehow make it through last Friday, I made it through a whole week after that. I actually don’t mind there being a tomorrow either. Although they may still be weak, I feel as if I have some legs again.

I wish I could now unveil my secret to survival or give you seven tips on how to withstand a major depressive episode, but I can’t. I went to bed Friday night hoping to not see Saturday, but I woke up anyway. Then I proceeded to sit on my butt the rest of the day. I watched a documentary on the late bass player Jaco Pastorius. I played a lot of Uncharted 4 on my PS4. I ate a bag of microwave popcorn. And, somehow, I felt better by the end of the day.

I do not know exactly why I am sharing all this. Perhaps I am hoping to encourage someone else at the end of their rope. Maybe I am trying to convince myself that time does indeed heal wounds. I could just be looking for sympathy and attention. Whatever the reason, I felt like I needed to write all this down somewhere.

I’m still here, and for the moment I am happy about that. I pray I continue to feel that way.

Tomorrow is another day. Good night.
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