You're going to. adventurers assemble for we scrape the very Adventures assemble!

For we scrape the very depths of darkness this night.

Our final boss, the wretched beast we aim to slay, none other than depression itself.

Probably physically manifested in the form of a giant floating eyeball of some kind.

Barbarians! Ready your blades.

Cleric.

Prepare your blue wards and most powerful self-loathing Pultuses.

sorcerer, pack thy bag of lids. powerful self-loathing Pultuses.

sorcerer pack thy bag of holding with whatever road snack helps the cope.

Wizard! You are very similar to a sorcerer. It was honestly never very clear on the distinction.

And Bard!

Last and least.

Play us Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.

I feel a cry coming on.

Welcome to Tales from the Pit.

Where our goal is to make light of the darkness, mock your sadness away,

gently brush aside your tears with the velvet hand of destigmatization, not to be confused with the very

different hand of stigmata, and just generally help each other get through this thing,

whatever it is. I'm your host, Michael Swaim, and I've struggled

with depression and related issues since I was nine years old. So here's that tale.

First of all, there is a reason depression rhymes with secession. Falling into a depression can feel very much like leaving yourself behind,

detaching, fighting for the unreasoned right to enslave parts of yourself to harm

...