Somebody’s hand over my mouth.

It’s #throwbackthursday so here is a not-so-distant throwback from August 2018 in which I explain what I think it is like to live a life within and in between depressive episodes.

Building Atlas

If you’ve seen Panic Room, and if you have depression, you might already know what I’m about to describe. There’s this stock scene in literature and films where a person answers the door on a “wellness check” from a police officer who has been called to the residence due to a neighbor or family concern. The person who answers the door is painfully conflicted because on the one hand, there is somebody behind the door pointing a gun at her temple and if she tells the cop she is in danger, she will be long gone before she has any chance at being safe. On the other hand, this might be the one chance, the closest by far, that she does have of getting out of the situation alive and she could be sealing her own fate by not signalling to the cop because she is afraid of death.

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