Hello old friend,
We’ve known each other for quite some time, haven’t we? Five years, to be exact. Living with something as time consuming as you hasn’t been easy; it’s a fight I feel like I’m constantly losing. You introduced yourself to me when I thought I could escape you, but I couldn’t. You held me tight in your grip when I felt like I couldn’t breathe. When you let go and I had a breath of fresh air, little did I know you were creeping right around the corner.
Imagine this: 13 year-old me, sitting in my counselor’s office because a note was sent to my first period English class calling me down to the office. I was sitting, looking around the small baby blue room feeling claustrophobic. This woman, short, mid-40s walks in and tells me I have something called “suicidal ideation." At the time, I had no idea what that was, but still my heart sunk and I started to cry. I don’t remember how the school found out but, they required me to have meetings with my counselor until it was time to tell my mother and seek further action.
Unfortunately, not many people understand what it’s like to live with depression. It sucks up all your insides and makes you feel like there’s a black hole, taking you away slowly. For five years I’ve heard, You did it to yourself, Why can’t you just try to be happy? and the absolute mind-boggler, You’re too young to be depressed. Depression has no age but I tried, I really tried. I went to therapy, I even moved back to New York, but I can’t escape myself. Describing it isn’t easy but if I had to, I’d say I feel everything and nothing at all.
The crazy thing is, a typical person would never guess that I was suffering from depression. Even some of my friends seemed shocked when I would confide in them. I’m always laughing and dancing around without a care in the world. No one knew how much my insides were hurting. It’s all a mask I put on every day, just like my make-up. If you’ve ever gotten to know me -- like, really know me -- then maybe I’d show you a smidgen of what I was feeling, but I’m not the type of person to open up to just anyone.
Opening up was something I did when I was much younger. Fast forward five years -- opening up feels like a burden to others and also to myself. As much as I want to tell everyone what was going on in my twisted little mind, I’m also tired of hearing the same things. For as long as I’ve been depressed, I’ve probably heard all the advice anyone could possibly give; I’m extremely grateful to have people that care about me, but at some point, I stopped believing in it and agreed just because it's customary.
I’m most sorry for my loved ones who have stuck with me through this. I know it isn’t easy— especially the times watching me deteriorate from the inside-out. There isn’t enough thank-you’s and apologies I could give to all of you. Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all of you pushing for me to get better and continuing to seek help. I continue to try because all of you continue to believe in me.
So, dear old friend, you’ve ruined me. You turned me against myself. Because of you, I've turned to other things and other vices to find my own form of diluted happiness. I was falling deeper into your rabbit hole without a way out. The worst is feeling numb, completely numb all over my body and soul. Other than numb, I felt stiff and fluid at the same time. I don’t know how to explain it.
Flashbacks of my 14 years old-self in my bedroom while still living in Texas, feeling like there were cinder blocks sitting on my chest keep me up on nights when I can't sleep. I know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. You’ll be a constant roller coaster I will be riding throughout my life. But, I promise I won’t lose this fight.
