I'm embarrassed to say that I don't fully remember. It's been a long time since I had a significant "pure" depression. I have a feeling that I likely struggled a little more in the morning than during the day/evening. When I am purely depressed, I experience hypersomnia. Rarely insomnia. Given that, I would often sleep a great deal. I sort of recall forgoing joining my husband for breakfasts. I just couldn't. I couldn't get going at all. Then early in the evening I'd be out again. One good thing about hypersomnia is that I don't know I'm depressed when I'm sleeping. For that reason, it's a break, of sorts. Sleeping becomes extra appealing. Plus, I'm usually very tired during pure depressions and even paralyzed, to a degree. I often eat a lot, so when I am able to be up, the food consumption is a form of a treat. Only yesterday I mentioned that my sense of taste was diminished when I took a certain med cocktail. Even some food tasted not so good. And yet I was ravenously hungry. I wanted to fill myself in some way. I always thought that maybe it would give me more energy, when it really didn't. The sugars may not have been as tasty, but the pleasure signal didn't fully disappear.

I remember when I still worked, and was in mixed episodes, mornings were also bad. Hellish! It was likely that I had gotten very drunk the night before. The alarm would go off and I'd scream or punch it. Clothes weren't ironed or my pantyhose had runs in them. Screams. Throwing stuff at the walls. My husband, desperate, yelling at me to stop yelling and being violent. I'd literally rip the pantyhose off my legs. Somehow I'd get to work and it was still pretty darned bad. [To put it mildly.] I'd rush to get home just to pick up the bottle for some kind of "Ahhh feeling". That would be my only relief, but it's a devil in disguise and absolutely no substitution for proper medication and therapy. It just fuels the fire and I drank more and more and more.