One of the most confusing things I've ever done with my life was forget to take the GRE.
I've been thinking a lot about the past year and a half, and now that I'm getting better, I've snuck a peek at my old journal entries.  Today I went through all of my flickr archives.  The memories came back like a belly flop from the high dive. What surprised me most, actually, is how completely surprised I am by some of the things that I did to try to wrestle with this thing on my own.  Sad things.  Embarrassing things...and drastic things, just to make myself feel better -- or sometimes just to feel 
anything.
To me, the most interesting way that I tried to deal with my depression was to make big plans when I was feeling well, because I thought it would motivate me to pull myself out of the "slump."  Sometimes it worked for a little while, but mostly it served to remind me of all the little failures in my life, because by the time those decisions affected me, I wasn't feeling well anymore, and I would deliberately put those things off and push them as far away as possible.  Grad school would be a good example.
I was going to move to Chicago, come hell or high water, and go to grad school there.  I became obsessed with Chicago; with shedding my Boston skin and starting over as a new person -- a happy person.  As ridiculous as it sounds, I couldn't see how unhealthy it was to put so much emphasis on how this singular act would make me happy.  How if I thought I would be happy 
then, it only served to highlight how 
unhappy I was 
now.  I had no idea how to get from point A to point B, but, goddamnit, point B was where happiness was.
During one of my slightly more manic (and DRUNK) moments, I signed up to take the GRE.  $130 is a lot of money, especially because I was unemployed, but this decision was going to CHANGE MY LIFE.
I chose a date that was a month and a half away so that I would have time to study.
I think I opened a book once.  It was a Princeton Review study guide my mom had gotten me for Christmas the year before, and I'm pretty sure I didn't do much more than skim the first chapter.
The date for the test came and went, and I didn't even realize it at the time.  It wasn't until a week later that I even bothered to check my email to see when I'd registered to take the exam, and instead of being upset, I was kind of relieved.  Maybe.  Mostly, I was too tired to care, anymore.
This is not one of my prouder moments, and I don't think I've ever admitted it to anyone.
I'm nowhere near completely healed from all of this, but I'm working on it.  And the longer I work, the more results I see and the easier it gets.  I'm excited about life again, and the little changes are enough for now.  I'm nowhere closer to a decision about school or my career, or even where I'll be living a year from now, but it's indescribably different, in a warm happy way.