I’ve always wanted to be able to honestly use this phrase, to have something so important, so vital, that it truly was a matter of life and death. That’s why we watch action movies and read fantasy novels, where people fight with swords and good wins over bad and that means, literally, that some people live and some die.

Instead my existence seems like a continuous series of trips to the grocery store: boring, stressful, expensive, and full of temptations to indulge in sweets over substance. 

But then, when my depression feels most acute—when it reaches a sort of fever pitch—and I think these words, “I don’t know if I can bear it”—I miss those humdrum days. When I get to this pinnacle of pain, often without a particular instigating incident, I begin to think it truly is a matter of life and death. Because what are the options if…