Thirteen years ago I fought my way back from a bad depression with bi-weekly therapy and grueling honesty. I was thereafter, all things considered, happy in a stable relationship with a solid career plan for a decade. The relationship ended badly a year ago. Two years of increasing anxiety that came with the death of that relationship have depressed me to the point that I’ve lost my drive, my optimism and my hope. In the last 12 months I have tried to laugh it off, drink it into oblivion, eat it numb, distract it with Netflix and “weekend escape” it away. But wherever you go, there you are. I know that this isn’t a failure, but it’s hard to be back in the darkness again.