On the edge of a knife: The quest for fleeting happiness
This time last year, I was struggling with the worst bout of depression I’ve had since high school. For the first time in my 20s, I was struggling to stay afloat, despite the fact nothing was technically wrong. I’d had other depressive episodes, to be sure, but this one I couldn’t blame even in part on a breakup, a toxic work environment or some other situational source of stress. I was suddenly underwater, and there was no obvious tributary to be pinpointed. The tide kept rising, and it seemed to come from all sides.
Things have gotten better since then. I’d say that right now I am experiencing the best mental health I have since childhood. It took a lot of hard work and self-forgiveness and paying attention to minute details to figure out how I could stop the flow of all that drowning water and install a few drains to clear out what had accumulated. It would be easy to say that I’m grateful to be happy. But I’m not sure if I can.