Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?
When I was a teenager, my mom used to tell me that the reason I was being cranky, or teary, or bitchy, or whatever was because my blood sugar was low. Or because I hadn't slept enough. Or because I was hormonal.
And I hated it, I hated it so much. What I was feeling was real and I wanted it to be seen as valid. If I was upset, it was because something was upsetting. If I was frustrated it was because something was frustrating.
And I hated it even more because she was usually right.
But so was I.
I know that depression is a disease. I know that it tells us things that aren't true. I know.
But I miss my friends and family. And I am still having trouble making friends. And I'm still figuring out a whole new identity. And DH and I don't have a lot of help here. (BG has never been left with anyone other than us. Not even for an hour.) And teething sucks. And temper tantrums suck worse. And I'm sad. And I'm lonely. And I'm frustrated. And all that is real.
But maybe I should go eat something. Just in case.