Eighteen years ago, the idea that I might ever emerge from the darkness of deep clinical depression and be well again seemed unthinkable. Yet now, many winters have passed and I have returned to the light. Mostly I am calm and well, and some days I even feel as if I’m walking on sunshine.
ILLUSTRATIONS NAOMI ELLIOTT
My depression was born of anxiety and feeling overwhelmed. At that low point almost two decades ago, it was so severe and the physical agony of the illness so painful, all I wanted to do was to die. I would lie in bed, clinging to my mother’s arm so tightly that it was red from my clutch. She was often all that lay between me and the real possibility of suicide: my husband was out at work and she had come to live with us.