It ended when she moved to California. The job she had moved about two and a half thousand miles for ended up being the job she wished she hadn't moved about two and a half thousand miles for. That would stick with her for awhile. Most people only burn a few bridges in a lifetime. She had burned one 2,441 mile long bridge, and left everyone and everything behind on the other side of the ravine. The ravine, in this sense, was an editing job at a magazine in downtown New York City. Dream job material, actually. The move for a new job seemed ridiculous to those on the outside looking in: less pay, smaller place, longer distance. But she thought it was what she needed. She wanted to try to get away from her dual diagnosis in California, but really, that was the only thing that made it across the scattered remains of the burnt bridge. It would be so easy in California. Drug abuse was everywhere. It was in the clubs her new coworkers went on Fridays after work. It was in her apartment complex and on the bus to work. Her depression was everywhere, too. She had pondered that it may have been seasonal affective disorder, and that the warmer sunny climate would help. It didn't. She kicked herself for flying 2,500 miles to find out what a therapist could have told her. Pride got in the way of that, though. No one had helped her with her problems before, so why start now. What she did realize, however, was that it was getting dimmer. Depression to her was a lot like walking around in the dark at night. You're familiar with the location – maybe it's your kitchen or your bedroom – but odds are you'll still feel terrified you'll step on something or trip over a coffee table. You probably never will, but the one time you do will paint every interaction after that. Suddenly, new friends sounds like an investment that's too expensive in the long run. A dog or a cat just a dollar sign. Happiness and fun are temporary thrills, like a rollercoaster ready to come off the tracks at any moment. However, the room she walked in the dark of night slowly got brighter. It got brighter with a new boss that didn't shout at her for missing a deadline. It got brighter when her neighbors didn't shout at each other all night. It got brighter when her rent was just that much cheaper. Suddenly, the alcohol she once needed didn't seem so tempting. It used to follow her to work, in the elevator, in the bathroom on break, and after work alone in her apartment. She didn't even remember when it started. She had a feeling though, that with this job, she'd remember when it ended.