After days of feeling like it's all downhill from here, nothing is worth doing, and the only reason to get out of bed is the soreness from staying in it... it's awfully nice to wake up and feel genuinely good!

...but it's still clear that something is not right. I consistently under-report my depression and anxiety because I've adapted so thoroughly to them. I'm surrounded by this ocean of it. Being held underwater so often normalizes holding one's breath, riding out every second while muttering under my dwindling breath. This is the cycle of it. I've had worse. I'll be back up for air any moment now.

Over the last couple months, there's been less and less air each time. It's looking like the "theta-burst" TMS isn't nearly as effective for me as the older type, so it's back to the full-length visits. It's another boring ten minutes per week, but that's better than another boring six days per week.

Even though I don't expect I'll ever get to land, I'm not about to accept water as the new air.