If a doctor says it… Then a doctor said it.

So you know how a person writes this blog? And she’s being a bit of a hypocrite because she’s telling everyone to cuddle with their depression and simultaneously shrink it to a manageable size?

Well whether you want to do it or not, I wanted to and I have. I knew this before a doctor said it, but it’s still so nice and toasty when society affirms things that you’ve known all along anyway. Partly because you get to feel legitimate. Mainly because you feel smart for knowing things first.

I’m sharing this in part because a little bit of bragging never hurt anybody. Except all those people it did hurt. And because this blog is as much meant to be my selfish manifesto of partial truths as it is meant to be… well anything else.

I’m not “cured.” There’s no guarantee “I’ll never be depressed again.” Still, right now, at this point in time, I have found ways of managing my depression to the point that I can pursue my goals and live my life without being dragged down into the depths of my personal misery pit.

And I want to take a moment to commemorate that, in this place, where I set down the arguments that have facilitated my “recovery.” If I fall back down, and everything gets fucked, that won’t change the fact that this happened. Nothing will change the fact that this happened.

Cheers to me. Cheers to you. Hoping that you get whatever you’re aiming for. Sooner or later. And for however long it lasts.