i haven't talked about depression & my old self in a while

It's been almost two years since my diagnosis, and nearly six months since I've last written about it. Time has passed, unnoticeably, yet I still ask myself: who are you now, after all this? For two years, I've kept a list. They were bullet points describing who I was before. (Was it a desperate attempt to claw my back to my old self?) I was looking for the seam, the precise place where I was unwillingly morphed into this version of myself. But I never found it, and I never will. There is no moment of rupture I can point to; only someone continuously becoming, whether she wants it or not. Forever, I am changed. You see, it's been a while since depression swallowed me whole. Is it because I've stopped treating it like something to defeat but, instead, to outlast. There's a whole industry of advice built for people like us: go outside! talk to someone! exercise for 30 minute! Who gives a fuck about 30 minutes of cardio when your entire life is falling apart? Such advice assumes you can…