((((((((iskm12))))))))))


The first time I saw a counsellor about my depression, she told me I wasn't alone. I didn't believe her. She repeated it every time we spoke, but I never believed her. What did she know? She wasn't me, she didn't know how horrible I was, and how there was nobody -- nobody -- who could understand or help me through this. I was completely and utterly alone, and some therapist telling me otherwise wasn't going to change that. But she kept saying anyway, every time I saw her, until I came to expect it whenever I went. And I don't know ... somewhere along the line, I realized she was right. I wasn't alone. Not in my illness, and not in the world. It just took me a while to be able to believe it.

I have a feeling that it's going to take you a while to believe it too, but I'm going to tell you until you can tell yourself: you are not alone. I hope one day you come to see that too.