I can empathize to a lesser extent. I’m on pretty high doses of antidepressants to keep myself alive. The world feels dead. I’m not sure that I prefer that to me being dead. But I do it for the people who give a shit about me. Am I going to live past 65? Probably not. But for now, it just the way things are.

I’m not psychotic so it’s of course easier to be reasonable about the situation, but it’s never fun to be on drugs like these.

I was going to chime in to parent mentioning a similar feeling when I was on an antidepressant. Life felt deadened and hollow, I couldn't really experience much of anything, I was doing things and having absolutely no emotional response to them whatsoever. The first time I cried, which happened extremely easily, while coming off of them I felt joy for the ability to feel something again, even if it was clearly an overreaction. 'Delicious' is the word I used to describe it.

Mania is a hell of a drug. I've done so many amazing things because of it. Life feels dull and slow without it. At the same time, the cost was high.

I chose to live without mania. I want to slow down and work on things I want to do, not be driven to do things, no matter how amazing they turned out.