Long before I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, I was a typical student — I’d have a drink between classes, or drink with friends on a Friday night.
For the most part, this was OK. Alcohol helped release my inhibitions, and I had a good time. But if I was already feeling depressed, I’d usually end the night in tears.
If I was already feeling anxious, I’d retreat into a socially detached shell, watching from a distance while everybody else had fun.
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