When I was first diagnosed with depression, (though looking back I now believe it wasn't the first bout) and got better I believed I was cured. Then it came back and I think it always will to some degree. I'm blessed that it comes and goes and that recently the black dog only visits for days instead of weeks and months. I'm blessed that I'm currently off medication and my mood, though low, is one of coping. I'm blessed that I've never been hospitalised.
I have frequent memory-loss, anxiety & sleep problems but, touch wood, aside from the odd nightmare/panic attack, functioning day to day is going well.
I do wish I had friends and family that really understood my invisible illness though. I tell white lies and make excuses to protect them from the fact that it's back again. Do we all do that?
Oh & hello from a new member
