I didn’t comprehend the magnitude of my depressive episodes until I moved into the dorm for my freshman year of college. My roommates and I always wanted to be closer. We would push our beds together and fashion a fort out of sheets and curtain poles. The mattresses were covered with empty Ben & Jerry’s containers and a maddening web of charging cables.
Then I had my first episode. I couldn’t speak. I hardly got out of bed, and when I did, I felt incapable of looking anyone in the eye.
One day I felt like myself again. My roommates were hurt that I had pushed them away so easily. I didn’t understand it myself, so I made up an excuse. They forgave me and moved on.
