I love the title of this piece, Zeb. Odd to some but not me that depression feels like an old friend or a worn, soft, and comfy childhood blanket. I chastise myself for almost welcoming that blanket, wrapping myself gently in its warm folds. I sink into with a strange feeling of surrender.

This hasn’t happened in a few years but when it often did, I wondered why the onset of depression felt so comforting. Perhaps because I am always doing and helping and fixing. Perhaps depression gives me permission to STOP, just stop and lean into its shadowy recesses and rest. Like you, my mind often keeps running, but my body slows down. I allow myself to curl in a ball on my bed, not feeling the necessity to do anything.

Now, I try to be more attuned to feeling overwhelmed or exhausted and allow myself to rest before depression forces me to stop doing. It usually works. But, that’s me. Depression is as varied as the people who experience it. I hope to escape its hold soon.

I was always a writer but lived in a bookkeeper’s body before I found Medium and broke free — well, almost. Working to work less and write more.

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