Finally. Every time it happens, I can breathe again. I feel happier; the weather is changing, I'm more self-aware, and I've been taking care of myself.
Art is like a bandage for me. I tear myself apart on pen and paper so that I won't in person, and I can step back when it's done and give myself a hug because I finished something.
However, the depressive episodes tend to always come back. Instead of dwelling on the future, I'll be grateful for the present, because I can focus on something I love.