First of all, thank you. Thank you for hearing me, comforting me, and staying with me.

But also, thank you for holding me accountable for my words and actions, and making me more aware of how my bad days affect the people around me.

Thank you for surprising me with a piece of cake and a bouquet of my favorite flowers when I had a loud, ugly anxiety attack when I was planning my fall semester schedule. Thank you for letting me scream it out, laughing at me when I wasn't looking, and for stealing bites of my cake even though I pouted about it. You help me take life less seriously.

Thank you for making a mental list of all the things I told you that help me come down during a panic attack and never forgetting them. Thank you for squeezing my hands and looking into my eyes and telling me that I will be okay and telling me that you're with me.

Thank you for offering your home to me when I was unhappy in mine. Thank you for letting me get to know your mom and for letting me lay on the floor with your dog.

Thank you for staying up all night with me when I told you I wanted to kill myself. And thank you for telling me to go get help and telling me that if it happened again you'd call the cops. Thank you for not babying me and forcing me to see the serious reactions that my words create in others.

Thank you for sending me your favorite song the first time I went through a depressive episode when we were together. Thank you for admitting that you didn't have the right words. Thank you for appealing to my love of music to bring me back down to earth. Thank you for referencing that song every time I struggle, to remind me that you've been here since the beginning.

Thank you for hearing me even when I think my words make no sense at all. Thank you for offering to walk me to my therapist appointments and wait in the lobby with me. Thank you for encouraging me to overcome my eating disorder by asking me to go out on a dinner date once a week.

Thank you for asking how I feel every day. Thank you for asking what has changed, what you can do to help, and how you can be there for me. Thank you for loving me no matter how damaged I feel.

Thank you for the words you say when I can't see through my own tears, the ones that make me see everything clearly again and breathe a little bit slower. Thank you for forcing genuine belly laughs out of me when I can barely force myself to fake a smile.

Thank you for letting me express my struggles. Thank you for not telling me to fake it until I make it. Thank you for letting me cry, letting me yell, letting me not speak at all for hours on end.

Thank you for showing me the pain you feel on my behalf. It makes me want to get better even more. Thank you for holding my hand through this process and reminding me that it's not always linear and perfect.

Thank you for assuring me that it is okay if my progress slows, stalls, or even regresses. But also, thank you for pushing me to not be okay with it. Thank you for pestering me relentlessly to fix my sleep schedule, eat regular meals, see my therapist.

Thank you for being compassionate but not complacent. Thank you for loving me enough to want to see me love myself.