Three months ago, I couldn’t get up, both physically and mentally. Physically, I’d wake up for the majority of mornings and think instantly that I wanted the day to be over, back in my dark room in bed, away from any people. Going through days would only exacerbate this sense of entrapment and overwhelm me further. Mentally, it was like I was a boxer on the canvas, and the swirl of depression and anxiety had just landed the knockout punch in a gruelling battle. Looking up at that opponent, even enemy, was too much, let alone attempting to fight it. Now? It’s like an alternate universe. The times where I was moping about physically finding the simplest tasks to be like climbing Mount Everest have become ever rarer, whilst the better moods and the energy that I didn’t have three or four months ago seemingly dominate my outlook. It is only now whilst reflecting on it that I realise truly how much everything appears to have changed. Even while I write this, I cast a wry s