Back in September, I made a post asking why I decided to get so drunk I would vomit. Shortly thereafter, I ended up getting into therapy. Within two weeks, I had been diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. I had pretty much diagnosed myself as such by that point, but hearing it come from someone legally licensed to do so was extremely
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Other people's expectations are the worst of it day-to-day, I think. The crippling despair of the depression itself is huge, monstrous, but the expectations... Somehow, it seems like those should be something accomplishable. Like you can handle that stuff because it seems reasonable, unlike the bloated body of the disease. But when you can't, it's crushing. It feels like a personal failing, even though the expectations aren't reasonable all the time. Just because they seem so, doesn't make them so.
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Keep on fighting the good fight.
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