A year and half doing therapy. That’s what I did before coming to Australia. Six months here and it seems everything we (me and my psychologist) archived went down. I’m kinda back to square one. That’s why I’m really looking forward for tomorrow, when I’m going to start doing therapy again.
It’s kinda weird realize that, after so long, I don’t like being depressed anymore. A long time ago I came with the conclusion that, although it was not nice, being depressed was my “safe place”; I would feel weird when I’m not depressed. Now it is the other way around.
Mum says it is my “astral hell” and that everything will be fine after my birthday. But, deep down, I know it is not that simple.