At the brain scan clinic (where my father took me, because he refused to pay for any treatment, before he had proof of my so called “depression”), after all the procedures, I got a heavy folder with papers on my results and recommended brain nourishment.
Now, three years later, I’m sorting through all my paper piles and rereading this brain folder. At the end of the evaluation papers (I should mention how strange and alien it is to read an objective evaluation of yourself) I read:
“Marmaladescreams, you are suffering enormously, but I am optimistic that the recommendations we discussed will be helpful. Please do not give up. Things will get better. Let me know if I can help with ECT arrangements.”
A slight burn makes its mark on my eyes. Back then, it all felt like a nightmare. Not the depression or psychosis but everything else happening around me. All the sadness and unkindness from the people around me. Reading this message reminded me of kindness – that even strangers could care. Some could see my sorrow and I’m thankful for everyone who tried to help me.