I have a student who struggles in school. No matter how hard he works, he is always behind. Even worse, he has two cousins in his grade who are both very gifted, high performers. Then we had him tested for learning disabilities. It turns out, his intellect is perfectly normal. In fact, it's on the high end of normal. He has a legitimate learning disability. I told him the results of his testing and the things that we were going to do to help him with his academics. He let out that sigh, you know, the one like he'd just put down a really, really heavy backpack. The sheer relief of it all was palpable. And ever since that diagnosis, he's been doing better. Even before the special services started in for him, he was doing better. The diagnosis freed him.

And here I am, diagnosed with a "major depressive disorder" and PTSD. It makes me laugh that someone telling me I have clinical depression makes me feel kind of better. I've wondered for a very long time why I have so much trouble just fucking doing things, even things that I like very much. I've wondered why I feel constantly overwhelmed by really small things. I wondered why I have so much trouble concentrating on things I really need to do. So now instead of feeling guilty and helpless (okay, I guess I'll still probably feel that way, but at least intellectually I can understand it), I can try and do stuff. I know there are things I can do. They're hard, but at least they exist.