There are different kinds of days when you’re depressed.
There are the good days, the ones you savour and allow you to remember why people keep moving on, making friends, travelling, studying, falling in love, going to work, going out. Allow you to remember why you keep moving forward.
Then there are the bad days. Some are really bad. There are the “I want to die” days and the “I can’t get out of bed” days, the “life is not worth it” and “no one cares” days.
Others are just common-or-garden bad. Crying days, lethargic days, pointless days, wasted days. A lot of wasted days.
And then there are days like today. Days when you put in the effort to try. Days when the tears are close to the surface, right up in the throat, balled in pressure and weight. Some you fight down and some escape. But you get up, you get dressed, you cook food and watch TV and maybe even go for a walk or read a book.
You work at it and get through these days, waiting for the time you can crawl exhausted into bed and close your eyes to the world. You do those things you’re always being told to do. Distract, be grateful, communicate, recognise that there are far worse days and be thankful. You congratulate yourself on trying. And you hope that tomorrow will be a different day.