It’s been 19 days.
The medicine I’m on seems to have taken away the so familiar feeling of sadness I’ve had for as long as I can remember. The change is so sudden that I feel like I’ve been stripped of a part me, I part I loathed but at the same time loved. How is it possible that now that my depression is on the way to being cured, I don’t want it gone?
It’s as if I would rather stay with my roller coaster of a life then be happy. Do I really hate myself so much, or is it just her ensuring I never stop suffering? I’ve gotten used to wondering what I’ll feel like when I wake up the next day, but still knowing that after happiness there will always be sadness, or numbness, and eventually happiness again. A never ending cycle.
The absence of this confuses me, as if the medicine only allows me to feel “here”; I’m neither happy nor sad.