I remember at that moment thinking: “That’s so unkind.” Followed by an epiphany as I considered how I wasn’t allowed to go to a college four hours away because I “wouldn’t make it there.” Or how after looking at me for a minute I was once asked: “I don’t know how you’ll get anyone to love you if you keep gaining weight and have acne.”

Beating depressive thoughts with perspective

So now, you tell me. Was ignorance bliss or was awareness my savior? Was my diagnosis my crutch or my comfort and explanation? Should you continue sleeping through the nightmare because you just want some rest, or should you violently wake yourself up and go through the painful process of dealing with things?