Depression is a terrible illness. Now that I've experienced it for the second time in less than three years, I really have a solid understanding of its devastating effects. And it is such a frustrating illness. I think that's a word that I use most often when I'm talking about it. Frustrating. Because unlike, say, a broken arm, which you can see as a tangible thing, depression is not really obvious. Granted, I often don't look "well," but most of the suffering is internal. There are physical symptoms. When it first started, I had body aches and fatigue which I compared to how you feel when you have the flu. I also got headaches occasionally. But depression mostly just eats away at you on the inside, turning your own mind and thoughts against you. It's also very exhausting. I am tired all of the time, and often prefer being in bed to anything else. Of course, this is a very common symptom of depression, with some people staying in bed for days at a time. I have been fortunate to avoid such a fate by structuring my days so that I have somewhere to be in the evenings, which serves to force me out of bed so that I can shower and leave the condo. But it's still a struggle. I often think that I would prefer to just stay in bed all day. It's horrible. Much of my frustration stems from the fact that I seem to be stuck at a certain place in my recovery. I bottomed out sometime in June, but I have leveled off to a place that is better than the abyss that I was in, but I don't seem to be improving from that point. I just go day to day without turning the corner toward wellness. The doctor who is treating me is frustrated, and I am frustrated. I don't know when this will start to improve so that I can get back to living a normal life. It's been so long that I almost forget what a normal life for me is.