Sometimes on my bad days a little comment or action makes me feel terrible. It feels as if I am wrapped snugly in a cloak of despair which after a while becomes like a warm bed on a cold morning, not wanting to move the covers and be faced with an icy blast from the cold room air.
The way out of the depression does not have a nagging alarm clock forcing me to leap of the bed to switch it off. Instead it is hard work to find a way to dislodge the comfort of the cloak. It is not a conscious decision at the time, but looking back on the episode it does seem something so little that sparks such a large reaction