"If you know someone who's depressed please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn't a straightforward response to a bad situation, depression just is, like the weather.
"Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness and loneliness they're going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It's hard to be a friend to someone who's depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest and best things you will ever do."
My head doesn't feel so full of clutter and nastiness. My serotonin levels are creeping steadily upwards no doubt. I drop Olly off to school, and I do what needs to be done. I enjoy it too. I like engrossing myself in the mundane of loading the washing machine and making beds. It is purposeful. It has a positive effect on me. I am enjoying those small acts again.
I go out. I wander all over St Ives. I feel the breeze whipping the hair around my face. I taste the salt on my lips. I enjoy the warmth from the sun. I take off my flip flops and scrunch the sand between my toes. I sit and drink a coffee and take in the view. I study the big skies above my head. I people watch, and listen to snippets of conversations: "I said to him, just you get that thing out of my body!"
Once again I have to thank you. For listening. For hearing. For caring. For not rolling your eyes skywards thinking 'for Jeff's sake, Leanne, get a grip.' My grip is vice like I can assure you. I think that it takes a perverse strength to live with depression. There are times that the feelings of utter hopelessness threaten that grip. Often I dangle over the edge with my fingers scrabbling at the loose rock. But I am always pulled up. I am always given a hand when I need it the most.
So thank you for helping to pull me up. Thanks for the helping hand. It was an act of kindness that I won't forget.