They say admitting you need help is the first step to recovery. But what if you’ve already recovered? What if you’ve done everything in your power to get better and, crucially, to stay better but you’ve still woken up, less than a year after you’d declared yourself well enough to come off antidepressants for good, feeling like there’s absolutely no decent reason to get out of bed?
“It’s just a relapse,” my GP told me, in that reassuring, sympathetic tone that I’m always so grateful for. But it didn’t feel like “just” anything. It felt catastrophic, an abject failure, the end of my newly rebuilt life as I knew it.