Dear _____________,

So I guess you've probably heard by now; I have depression. Bad depression, at least sometimes. And now I know what you're thinking: "What does she have to be depressed about? She has a great life." And that is a very valid question. A question that I often find myself asking too.

Why do I have depression? I don't know. If I did know, I probably wouldn't be writing this. I probably wouldn't be depressed. Because that's the thing about answers- the hardest part isn't fulfilling the solution, it's finding the solution, it's picking which out of the million possibilities is the perfect fit.

I'm not a huge math person; I really hate calculus, and I will never be an engineer or a statistician. But there is one thing about math that I have always loved. I love that there is one solution. There is only one answer, and when you find it, you don't have to question it. You don't have to wonder if 3 is really the right number to add to 4 to make 7, you just know, because that's how it always is. It's the perfect fit. That's the only answer, no matter who is doing the problem and no matter what units you're adding. It's clear, it's consistent, and it's rational.

Depression is not like that. In fact, Depression is pretty much the complete opposite of that. Depression is different for each person; things that make me feel happy and loved could be the very things that make someone else miserable. I love to be around people. Except for when I am completely exhausted, I pretty much just want to be around people that I love 24/7. I recognize and appreciate the value of solitude time, and I take it when it is necessary, but having a life filled with more alone time than social makes me really sad and lonely. That's not the case for everyone. Some of my closest friends would rather cuddle up every night and watch movies, even if that means they're doing it alone. Spending most of their time relaxing is a good thing for them, and it helps them keep a healthy mindset. They, of course, need a certain amount of social time and they do enjoy people, just like I need and appreciate some time alone, but most of the time, they are just fine on their own. But me? When I'm alone for a long chunk of time, that's probably a sign that things aren't going so well for me. That I'm probably really depressed that day, and I've either voluntarily or involuntarily shut myself out of the rest of the world.

So how do you figure out what's right? How do you find a solution when people can range on an entire spectrum like this? Like I said before, I don't know. I wish I knew. You probably do, too. We all want to get in and fix the problem, to find a clean solution, like adding 3+4. But it's not like that.

You can't fix me. I know that you might see me in a lot of pain, and that you might want to take it all away, but you can't.

You can't fix me. No matter how many times you tell me that I have no reason to be depressed, that I am beautiful, that I am loved, that I am talented, you can't fix me. You can say those things enough times that I understand them, but I will never truly believe them, I will never truly let them sink in, until I choose to learn them for myself.

I know that it hurts you to see me like this. I know how helpless and paralyzed you feel. I have been on both sides of this battle, and I know that neither one of them is easy. I'm sorry that I can't help you, that I can't give you something to fix so you feel like you're making a difference, but I can't.

I don't want your words; I probably won't believe them.

I don't want advice; I probably won't listen to it anyway.

I don't want your sympathy; you treating me like I'm broken will only make me feel more broken.

I don't want your anger or disappointment; I get enough of that from myself.

And I'm sorry for that. I know it hurts to hear those things, and I'm sorry that it does, but it's the truth, unmasked and uncensored. But I don't blame you for any of those things. I am not mad that you can't help me fix this; I know that if things were reversed, I wouldn't be able to fix the situation, no matter how badly I would want to. None of this was or is your fault.

Do you know what I DO want?

you.

I want and I need you there with me, standing by my side, listening to my stupid rants, wiping my tears, and reminding me that I'm not alone. I need a friend. That's it. I know that you can't do more than that, and that's okay. You're doing the best you can. Who am I to be mad at you for that? After all, I'm only doing the best I can, too. So I guess we'll just have to do our best together.

Love,

Lauren