Dear Depression,
In the summer of 2015, I knew you had come to stay. Months before, I denied and hoped that I wasn't like thousands of youths in America suffering from this awful mental disorder. However, I knew deep down that I was just like them, and my time to fight you was here. Without warning, you smacked me across the face and brought your friend, Anxiety, to haunt my every waking moment around my best friends.
How was I suppose to tell my parents this? How was I suppose to speak up and get help? What if no one believed me? What if they just told me it was normal? Everyone feels this way sometimes. It would pass. What if they ask me if it's "that time of month." In my head, there was no real way to speak up about this. I convinced myself I didn't need help. I tried to fight it on my own.
However, day-in and day-out. Night after restless night. You pointed out every dangerous item in my room. You played videos of my death over and over in my head. Anxiety helped you keep me isolated. It whispered lies in my ears that I believed until I couldn't handle being near my closest friends without wanted to break out into tears in fear.
Undeserving. You're undeserving. Burden. All your friends think you're a burden. You're alone. Why do you get up in the morning. You're alone. No one wants you around. Stay in bed. Stay asleep. No one. You have no one.
I returned to my junior year of college, scared and uncertain how I would be able to handle the stress of school on top of the stress of myself. However, support was around every turn. You didn't see that. You didn't see that the people I had come to befriend could cut down your thickening fog and pull me out.
My roommate was my saving grace from you. She pushed me to think in new directions and realize the severity of you. My counselor seemed to agree. You knew that something was coming for you. You knew that you were at your peak and were about to fall.
In the fall of 2015, we started seeing a psychiatrist. Medication after medication, visit after visit and a semester of poor motivation later, you had already started your descent. It will be a long fall and you're never going to die completely. I've come to know that. I've come to understand you better.
However, I can feel a spark inside of myself that you hid from me for years upon years. I didn't even know its name until I felt it bubbling inside of me.
Self-love.
That concept scares you, I know. It scares you because you know that it can defeat you. It'll be a long time until I fully figure out how to use this weapon against you. However, it's in my possession now and I don't plan on putting it away any time soon.
So, Depression, I have a few last things to say to you.
You are never going to go away; however, start getting used to living with me instead of over me. You've helped me learn a lot about myself and you've helped me prove how strong I can be. So, thank you. But don't you dare think that I will let you best me again.
Because it gets better.
Yours truly,
A growing youth.
