Sunday, 3 July 2016

Depression | An Open Letter

This is a very personal and honest post that I have wrestled with myself time and time again about whether I should write it, let alone publish it for the world to see. This post is a vulnerability to me so if you're reading with the intention of scrutinizing me or rolling your eyes (which I'm sure most people will), then I will ask you now to please click away. Also, if you are likely to be triggered by the thought of depression, suicide, etc, it would be wise not to read on.


Dear Depression,
 I know that you are trying to destroy my life. Many times you have come close to succeeding. But as long as I can keep my head above sea level in the ocean you are trying to drown me in, I am going to fight back.

 To me, you are always lurking. I will wake up in the morning and if I'm lucky- breathe a sigh of relief as you are not there. If I am not so lucky, I will roll over and hide in bed for days on end so I don't have to face the horrors you bring. You wait around dark corners waiting until I can breathe clearly and think lightly just to rear your ugly head at me. Sometimes I will gladly forget you exist, I will be making food or writing, minding my own fucking business when you leap up on me, sinking into my body and weighing me down as if my blood slowly turns to lead. Not cool, depression, not cool.

 When I was around my friends, I tried to make you invisible. It could take all of my energy to haul myself up at college to a cramped up bathroom cubicle where I could cry in private without being a burden. The days where I didn't have this energy, I wouldn't turn up. I made myself a running joke about bad attendance and just nodded along when the teachers would lecture me about turning up when in my head I was screaming "I WASN'T AT YOUR CLASS LAST WEEK BECAUSE I WAS DETERMINED TO END MY LIFE INSTEAD". And if that didn't satisfy you, depression, you'd invite your friend Anxiety along to poke fun at me, laugh at me for being the anti-social one when everyone else was trying to make friends. Why would anyone want to make friends with me? Depression, you made me believe you were my only friend. We decided together that cutting people off was easier than having to hide you away. You made it so emotionally taxing to pick up the phone and reply to a text, or do something nice for the friends who had looked after me for my entire childhood, and so the notion that I was not worthy of friendship became true.

 I tried to make you invisible to my family too. But you are more like a storm circulating in seasons. Nobody can know when or how to expect the storm, but once it appears it causes pain, havoc and damage to all those it touches. And once the clouds clear up until the next time, all I can do to stifle the abundance of mess around me is say 'sorry'. As if looking in a broken mirror and apologizing to it will to anything but steam up the glass.

 And I'm sure, depression, that you are jealous of my boyfriend. You refuse to conceive the idea that somebody can make me so happy the storms are tucked away for months, somebody will love me so unconditionally that they know you exist and rather than flee, they will fight back. So you like to step in the middle, depression. You like to create a barrier of irritability, anger, spite just in case you can prove that he doesn't really love me after all. You try your hardest to creep in to his mind too, he doesn't understand the way you work, and that is the weakness you pray upon. Sometimes he is convinced that the reason I am depressed is because he is there, when the fact that he exists is why I am still alive. He gives me the strength to fight you depression, and together we are going to win this battle.

 I have tried so hard to make you invisible, but it seems to anger you more. You take a physical form to vandalize my arms and legs just so you can scream to the world "I am here" and watch me suffer for it. Today I am changing my tactics, depression. You are not invisible any more. I write to make a note of your existence, I'm no longer hiding us. I have made the call for help you taught me to believe was unnecessary and I have taken medication that fights to defend my body against the symptoms of you.

 I have acknowledged your existence, depression. I have published these words for the world to see and I have taken the shame that you shower me in and claimed it for my own. And today, depression, I am saying fuck you.

Not to completely diminish the dramatic ending but I thought I should tie up this post with some notes. I have been to a doctor to get medical help and am on the path to get help in the form of counselling or therapy. If you feel any of the above feelings then I strongly advise you do the same. If you feel you want to say anything in regards to this post, ie questions, comments, leave them below or email me if you wish to keep it private. Keep it kind, people. 

3 comments:

  1. Bravo, you brave thing, you, for sharing this post. It won't win, and you are so right to tell it to f*ck right off. I was diagnosed with clinical depression when I was seventeen and was on medication for around four years or so to manage my depression and anxiety. I still struggle with anxiety quite a bit and had another bout of depression earlier in the year when I experienced several losses in a row. CBT counselling has helped immensely. Hang in there - you will get through. And just keep talking - you're not alone. xx

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  2. Publishing this is so brave and honest. We'll be there if you need us- just ask. I know you'll win this thing.

    I love you my man, never ever quit, make depression regret messing with you

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  3. I had no idea you have dealt with this, I hope your treatment works.
    Also would like to tell you to keep your head up and know that there are people in this world who care about you Alot.
    I would like to apologise for anyone and everyone who has made you feel uncomfortable by asking questions or mocking you for things you did where you have a hidden reason.

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