One of the unfortunate parts of depression is not knowing when it's going to hit. It can sneak up on you and let the wind out of your sails before you're even aware it's happening. No amount of reason can chase it away, logic does nothing to fight it. At the same time, the depression sets in almost like a blanket, creating something both sad and comforting. It can cause you to crawl inside your shell and hide from the world for a while, but at the same time, calm the anxiety that exists below the surface. Like the mental equivalent of a cigarette. Or at least, what I imagine the effect of a cigarette is. It'll drift away as stealthily as it arrived, leaving things mostly the way they were. It's easier to wax poetic than to fight it. Rising like a phoenix back out of the embers when it has had time to pass.
This too shall pass. I find comfort in those words. It's enough.
I know what you mean. It's slight, but when it sets in, it just plain fills me. 'This too shall pass' really does help.
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