"There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever. There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore. I am thawing.” -Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls

Dear Depression,

I'm breaking up with you. For years you held my hand in a cold, bone crushing grip that radiated through out my entire body, my entire soul. You wrapped me in a blanket of isolation to keep me from the rest of the world. You made me believe the only person I needed was myself, and no one would understand this unexplainably broken girl. I believed no one would understand these feelings of self doubt and hate I had kept hidden away so well. The idea of letting people in was nice that I allowed myself a taste of it every once and awhile until you yanked me back- radiating your chill down my spine to paralyze me again.

It feels like I have been paralyzed for a good amount of my life - paralyzed by fear of rejection, failure, anxieties, countless insecurities. Moving forward in the conventional sense but never really being where I needed to be. Numbness took over and I stood in place with your arm around me, isolation cloaking us. Eventually, under your relentless fingers that had somehow worked their way around my fragile mind- I snapped.

I was drunk and don't remember much of what happened. I just have the stories and memories of those who do and slurred texts. All I remember is, one year ago today, I tried to make a move finally. A permanent, irresponsible, and cruel move. Honestly, I don't think it was because I wanted to die - I just wanted to move on from you. At that point so far in my life I hadn't been able to do that. Living wasn't turning out to be the experience I was expecting so I thought maybe if I just... stopped breathing and existing I would be free of you. Even sitting in the hospital, telling the doctor pretty lies with a tired but shiny smile, I still thought what I tried wasn't so bad.

That was until my dad held my hand and my mom hugged me, and I remembered my big brother sitting in the hospital room with me until my parents got there. Until my best friends' warm, secure embraces - hugs that I remember distinctly - replaced yours one by one. When my dog wouldn't leave my side and that Christmas where I was reminded exactly how much I adore my family and how much they love me.

My cousin always told me not to let my mental illness define me, but I let you. For so long you were my crutch, what I used to define myself, but not anymore.

In the last year, I have come to realize that happiness is, in fact, a choice. I've learned to let myself feel and breathe. I cry a lot more now. I yell more. I'm not scarce with my smiles or laughs. I accept the fact that sometimes I'm lazy, I'm messy, and slow moving, and lose my keys way too much for someone who is able to rent an apartment. I'm also learning to love my strengths - my empathy, my humor, my talent; I'm re-learning how to love the people around me. People who I took for granted. People who proved to me that the world would not be better without me like I believed it would be for so much of my life.

I know now that taking my own life would not mean I won this battle, but that you did. You took a lot away from me. A lot of time, friendships, and opportunities, but the one thing you were never able to take was my life. You may have had a grip on it, but now I'm taking it back. I'm going to become the strong person I need to be who isn't afraid to think, feel, and love anymore. My bones are finally starting to thaw out, my lungs are starting to melt, my soul is done sleeping, and my mind is starting to work.

I'm feeling,

breathing,

living;

Three things I was never able to do with you around. I know you may come back. Some nights you'll creep in just when I think I've finally beat you. I know you'll never be truly gone but that idea doesn't scare me anymore. You don't scare me anymore, and you certainly don't own me.

So let it be known, I will not let Oct. 21, 2014, be reduced to the day when I tried to end what was left of me. But it is ironically the same day I began to rebuild myself with what was left of me. It is also the day I began to leave you.

Sincerely no longer yours,

Abbey

P.S. To those who have helped me get to where I am - thank you.

Thank you to my amazing parents for loving me and taking care of me, for driving back and forth from South Bend to Indianapolis multiple times because I was having an anxiety attack, for listening to me when I was ready to talk, for worrying and pushing me to be better. You've given me so much more than I deserve and could ever ask for and I'm really proud to be your daughter. I love you.

To my awesome brother who is someone I've always been jealous of. Thanks for setting the bar high and helping me reach it. You've made me realize that I can do things on my own. I can handle adulthood with some dignity and grace and intelligence even at 21. Thank you for being my big brother and for being my friend.

To my wonderful, crazy, one-of-a-kind family - all my aunts and uncles and cousins who are more like siblings to me, thank you for helping me create such a fun, hilarious, and loving childhood. For my amazing grandparents who have showed me what unwavering true love and hard work can do, for making Christmas into the year's event. For living across the street from a park or down the street from me, for plowing through all the hardships and giving me a family that loves each other and supports each other no matter what. I really couldn't ask for anything better.

Thank you to my sorority for showing me what I'm capable of, for giving me sisters and sisterhood I always wanted, leading me to some of the most amazing friends I'll ever have, my actual twin, my Littles and Grandlittles, and even giving me two kickass Bigs and Grandbigs when most only get one. Thank you for giving me a place to belong and call home away from home and for showing me what it's like to be a part of something bigger than myself. I love you and I miss you.

Thank you to all my friends who have helped me over the years for listening to me cry and vent, asking if I'm okay and knowing when to let "I'm fine," be enough of an answer and knowing when to not let it, for letting me call you at three in the morning, taking care of me when I get too drunk, dropping everything a year ago when I needed you most and you made me feel needed too. Thank you for sitting with me when I have anxiety attacks and think I'm going to die, for pushing me to be better, telling me when enough is enough and letting me know you don't want to deal with my depression anymore than I do, for letting me know when I'm wrong and forgiving me. Thank you for staying on the phone with me until we both fall asleep, for driving around aimlessly until the early hours of the morning listening to music; those are the nights I love the most. For beach days, movies nights, boxes of tacos, sleepovers, movie quotes, Chipotle, boxed wine, inside jokes, concerts, so much pizza, and so much more, thank you to my first best friend and my last.

Thank you for letting me realize the true meaning of the quote: "How great it is to love and to be loved."

Thank you for staying.