Depression is a hard thing. It doesn't just affect the person, but it also affects everyone around them. It's not something everyone feels comfortable talking about. This makes it hard for those who are depressed, because they feel like they can't fully express themselves. If you do not suffer from depression, the only thing I ask is to read my article, and there may be a chance you gain a better understanding of what it means to be depressed. I'm hoping it can help you love and support your friends and family in the long run.
To those of you who have made fun of my depression, I know you didn’t understand, and maybe you still don’t. I do not pride myself on “not being understood," I just know that if you did understand me, you wouldn’t act the way you did. You would not call me different, or tell me happiness is a choice, and I should “stop being lazy." However, one does not need to go through a struggle to be empathetic. I’m hoping this article will make anyone realize why it is not OK to say, “Stop being so depressed," or “You’re being so dramatic." You can’t expect someone to open up if you’re the reason they feel they have to shut down.
I’m a very open person. Not to be arrogant, but I do consider myself social and outgoing. I have loved socializing, and I have always loved to talk — just ask my parents. I even needed a parent-teacher conference for all the talking I did in kindergarten, and random strangers in the grocery store would tell my mom I sure am a “talker,” or something of that sort. The one thing I never talk about, nor do I feel comfortable talking about — depression. Do I want to be comfortable talking about it? Of course, I would love that. I haven’t even gone into details about it with my best friend; for most of my life, everyone around me seemed so happy. I just assumed they had never felt the way I did. However, that isn’t the case. Did you know one in 10 Americans are affected by depression? That means you probably know someone that has to go through it. My only hope is that reading this article will make you think twice about saying “get over it,” and think more about supporting the people around you who are depressed.
To my depression, my sophomore year, you came into my life. Little did I know you would take me for a very wild ride. I’m writing an open letter to you, my depression, to acknowledge you, to make the pain easier and to finally show I’m not ashamed of something that holds me back more than others.
My junior year, you finally went away. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the less stressful workload or the amazing friend group and relationship I had that made it easier for you to vanish. Either way, everything was beautiful.
Summer into senior year came, and it was dreadful. You lurked in again, very unexpectedly. Things got so great my junior year; I filled my summer with things that were very unreliable and uncertain.
Senior year was rough. Not only did you make me emotionally exhausted, but also physically exhausted. Fighting a battle inside my mind made me stay up late and not want to tackle anything at school. Your friend, anxiety, made me worry about things I really didn’t need to. I made decisions that were mostly on the spot. Friendships were definitely not my first priority, when I could not even take care of myself properly, or so I felt. I lost friendships and was genuinely an unhappy person because of you. You changed reality for me.
You’ve led me on many wrong turns. You have made me sacrifice relationships and convinced me it was a good idea to end some. You have led me to hurt others whom I did not want to hurt. With the actions of over-thinking and overanalyzing, you have made me so confused with things that were very simple. Have there been problems in my life? Sure, it would not be life if there weren’t. However, you caused a lot of problems that, otherwise, would not have been there. There have been so many good times you have blurred and many people you have helped push out of my life. You have made me lose energy on those days when all I wanted was to get out of bed and accomplish things. And, finally, you made me embarrassed about who I was at a time when I was supposed to feel free and learning to love myself. You made me ashamed that I was not “the same” as everyone else and that I could not handle things as well as others. I am not “weak," and I am not “very different from everyone." I am not a human doing. I am a human being. And this is me, being strong, and being able.
You don’t control me anymore. I’ve found ways to fix you. Fortunately, life does not revolve around you anymore.
"Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you." — Ovid
