Sometimes the pages of a particular book seem to morph into hands that take hold of your lungs and squeeze so hard it feels like you can barely breathe. “The Devil Within,” by Stephanie Merritt, holds just that much longer, so that by the end you are gasping for metaphorical air.
“Depressed people are hard to love and require extraordinary patience, just as sometimes it seems impossible to love and be loved from inside the darkest heart of depression. Depression is the loneliest place on earth; no one can reach you there, when you most need to be reached, and even the most steadfast, unswerving love of family and friends must remain an abstract knowledge until you emerge enough to feel again. To believe that life – your life – matters, that what you have to offer is worthwhile, when you are least able to feel it, requires nothing less than faith.”