Despite achieving remission status from my clinical depression, I am still who I am.
I can still see the sad, webby things in an abandoned children’s toy outside on the curb or how a room filled with people instead appears to be peppered with the emptiness of a deceased, cherished loved one.
Like I’ve previously written, you don’t spend close to a quarter of a century a certain way and then expect that there won’t be residual ickiness left over.
You don’t live for so long with the ability to see beyond the exterior of life, into the dark abyss, without dragging along some of it with you.
I am better than I was before TMS…but I am still who I am.