Remember when you were a little kid, and playing on the swing set was the greatest thing ever? It was so much fun to see how high you could go. That breathless moment when you felt the rope slacken at the peak of your swing, and, just for a moment, you felt weightless, disconnected from the world. Then, the rope snapped back, you felt the pressure of the seat again as it carried you back towards the ground. Over, and over, up, and down, swinging, floating, falling. It just isn’t the same as an adult. You can get on a swing set now, try and recreate that feeling, but the innocent joy and wonder is gone.
Anhedonia is like that. It slowly falls over you like a shroud. It sucks the joy out of everything. Nothing is the same, and, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t feel the way you used to. It’s like sitting on the swing, knowing you can’t relive the delight of the past, but desperately trying to anyway.