Category Transcendence of bipolar disorder
“There is a silence where hath been no sound.
There is a silence where no sound may be—
in the cold grave, under the deep deep sea.”
— From Thomas Hood’s poem “Silence”
When I am moderately to severely depressed, my brain is mushy enough that I have trouble remembering how to take care of myself. So I keep a list on hand to remind myself what to do when I’m in trouble. When I’ve done everything I can, then I cry uncle and ask for drugs, but before that point I need to rely on these antidepressants.