The following is an open letter to Depression:
I am writing to you because I’ve been having some serious concerns with our relationship. I won’t deny the closeness of our bond; we have been friends for many years now, and it often feels as if we are the same person. You know my favorite food, my worst fears, the things that makes me smile, and pretty much everything else – let’s be honest here. You’ve seen me in the shower, for heaven’s sake!
I never wanted things between us to get this intense; to go this far. I knew you liked me from the beginning, and I’ll admit, you seemed strange, but nice nevertheless. I let you into my life, or rather, you let yourself in. I must’ve forgotten to lock my door. From that day forward, you have done nothing but take, take, take. Some people say that their Depression has given them numerous “gifts.” I have not received one gift from you Depression, you selfish poo mongrel.
I constantly compare myself to other people and wonder if you’ve followed them around as you’ve followed me. I’ll never really know because nobody likes to talk about you. Don’t you have other friends besides me? I know you must, but I have yet to meet them.
I am tired. I am so tired of you, and because of you. Here are the things you have made me feel, in no particular order: worthless, unlovable, lazy, disgusting, scared, hopeless, helpless, trapped, and a few more which I will not name for the sake of droning on and on. Depression, must I be exhausted ALL the time? I can’t live my life if you won’t allow me to get out of bed.
Depression, you cannot have me all to yourself. Even simple things, like going for a short walk outside, was made difficult by you. I’m in an abusive relationship with you. You are my weakness, and I really hate myself for it. You are a manipulative, controlling piece of crap.
Depression, I try to do my best and participate in normal life activities, but you always glue yourself to me. For instance, all those years I went to school, you INSISTED on tagging along. It was nearly impossible to focus with you there. Do you know how hard that was?
There is never a time when I can be without you. It makes me infuriated – why can’t I separate myself from you? I’ve spent a good deal of my time wondering where I’d be without you; what sorts of things might I’ve accomplished without having you always part of the picture? How different would my current state be if you weren’t insistent on tagging along for, well, everything. Sometimes, I just wanted to be alone.
I fight you daily. I fight you using the power of cuddly and delightful things, such as baby animals. Their adorableness creates a temporary physiological blockade of YOU. For a brief moment, you aren’t part of my life.
That moment is fleeting, however. You tend to bust in, unannounced.
Depression, once and for all, please get out of my life and stay out of my life. Occasional sadness is one thing, I mean, he’s not that bad of a guy. He knows his limits and respects them. You, on the other hand, do not. When I am with you, I become physically ill. When I glance in the mirror, my face belongs to someone else. I think, who is this person? This is not me. I don’t really look like that, right?
It never ceases to amaze me how talented you are at crushing every tiny ounce of positivity I manage to hold onto. So, STOP. I’ve had enough. I’m breaking up with you, and if it was possible, I would love to throw your ugly butt into a large, active volcano.
With absolutely no sincerity,
(I apologize for the hiatus in blog posts. Actually, screw that. I’m not apologizing. I’ve been dealing on and off with severe depression/exhaustion/crapsauce and have been unable to function on a regular basis. In combo with my sensory problems, I’m feeling totally useless being I cannot work/being an adult under these circumstances. BUT I’M ALSO LIKE: