How Hard It Really Is: A Short, Honest Book About Depression

by J.S. Park

I bend down to where she is. I tell her, "I'm really sorry. It's not ... this isn't a choice, or something you did wrong. It just is sometimes." "Is there ... is there a way back?" She wipes her eyes in rebellious sweeps; it doesn't help. "Sometimes, yes," I tell her. "Not always. It's more like, there's no going back to how it was, but only going toward a different kind of normal. But a not-normal normal." She laughs between tears. "That sounds terrible, really terrible." "I want to say it gets better or something, or there's a right combination of words for this, but it's not like that. It's a climb uphill through a swamp and the tide is against you. But the climb, you're not alone in that. I mean, some people won't understand, and they only know what certain parts of this will look like. But you're not climbing by yourself." "Together," she says, "is what I need right now. That's all I need right now."