So the woman has a new psychiatrist and a new therapist.
The psychiatrist adds a very small blue pill to her regimen. The therapist gives her homework.
It has been a few weeks for the blue pills. The woman can smile again. She sleeps more peacefully and can control her moods.
Touch no longer makes her skin crawl.
She can concentrate on command.
No longer does she cry without meaning to.
Once the fog truly clears, she wants to tell people that Major Depressive Disorder is not something to "shake off."
She is not unhappy with her life.
The nature of MDD is that she could have the greatest life ever, but unbalanced chemicals in her brain would make it all mean nothing.
A broken brain has no concept of worth.
That is why she fears it all so much.
Mostly, she wants to tell people how well she is.
She has walked through a level of hell, and she feels strong to have walked back out. She is proud that she avoided being a statistic.
So will it stay this way? Will the medicine work forever?
Who knows. She certainly doesn't know.
The only thing she knows for sure that each moment of swimming instead of drowning is a moment to be celebrated.