two years ago around this time i had my first depressive episode. im back at home for break and instead of it being restful and fun and warm, it’s isolating and stressful and depressing. i spend hours in my bed-both awake and asleep-stressing about how i know i wont achieve my goals. how i know I have all of these assignments to do, but i wont do them. i stress about the fact that i cant really move. my mom is going through her own shit but is still doing so much around the house to prepare for a thanksgiving. she needs my help and is afraid to ask for it because ive gotten mad in the past. really, me getting mad is a reflection of the frustration I feel with myself. why is everything so hard for me to do? depression makes me so lazy and selfish. i know thats not who I am at my core but it’s really hard to believe that right now. everyone around me is going through something but they seem to suck it up and engage with life. meanwhile here i am in bed, letting life pass me by.