It was a Saturday morning when something in me snapped. I had no strength to get out of bed, and even if I did, it seemed like nothing I would do today would matter. The massive weight of the numbness pinned me to the sheets, and tears began to flow. But what was I upset about? I had no idea. All I knew was that I couldn’t stop, and this meant the all-too-familiar brain inflammation-induced depression was back.
In hindsight, there were signs all week that this was coming. I’d had a hard time staying on task with my work despite how much I enjoyed it. I’d had more difficulty than usual getting started on anything. Yesterday, it had gotten to the point where I realized it would be better to take a day off from productivity rather than slog my way through hours of frustration.
And yesterday, something else had happened: my seasonal allergies returned in full force.