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  • I moved to Berlin a few months after I was diagnosed.
    I thought the world was going to end. The whole freaking world. Destroyed.
    After being diagnosed as clinically depressed, I sat in my house and wondered what was the point of being a problem solver when all problems would just be vanquished when the world ended. I was useless.

    After a few sessions, the doctor told me she wanted me in a hospital. She was afraid I would kill myself.
    I remember looking at her and thinking why would I want to do that? Why go to the hospital? I have a baby. I have to keep going. I was all the baby had.

    The doctor told me not to do anything drastic. Don't make anymore major life changes and I nodded my head, agreeing. Of course. No major life changes.

    A few days later, I sold everything and moved to Berlin. I rented a flat in Mitte and waited for the world to end. The world did not end but my old life did. The one I shattered when I moved to Berlin to wait for the end of the world.

    Berlin understood. It had seen many ends and knew that the end of something was always the beginning of something else. It hummed and that hum kept me going. It knew that even after a destruction that seemed insurmountable, a strong German woman could rebuild anything- including herself.

    Berlin was rebuilt by German women and Berlin used that memory to rebuild me.

    Whose kind of town is Berlin? My kind of town.


    [photo used with cc permission from Michael & Christa Richert]
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