Realisations
I am a 38 year old girl. For sixteen of those 38 years, I have been clinically depressed. It horrifies me to realise this. My last sixteen years have been spent feeling sad and numb and bone-crushingly lonely on the good days, to sobbing hysterically on the floor for hours at a time on the bad days, between bouts of sitting on the toilet and Googling suicide. They have been spent at 9:30pm on a Friday night at the grocery store, because I have no friends to go out and socialise with, and at the grocery store, I can at least be in the company and presence of other people, even if it involves zero actual interaction. They have been spent jumping out of my skin with fright whenever my phone rings, because it rings so infrequently, I don't actually even know what my own ring tone sounds like. They have been spent considering marrying someone, only to realise that I would literally have nobody to invite to be a single bridesmaid at my wedding. Not bridesmaids plural, but brid