My therapist told me to stop drinking and wean off my meds. He advised me to confront my demons... namely my alcoholic father and my co-dependent mother. When the undead filled the streets outside my family's apartment, I took it as a welcome--if terrifying--distraction from my daily life.
Which is worse... relentless domestic abuse or the hungry undead threatening our lives at every one of our barred windows? It wasn't all that tough a choice.