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Hello Depression My Old Friend

Hello, depression my old friend.

I didn’t ask to be born into this pain and endless suffering.

No matter how hard I try to work today I just can’t. I tried and tried until I couldn’t control the tears… I couldn’t breathe, I was paralyzed by my mind, drowning in the darkness. I couldn’t get it to stop. So I wrote this to scramble my way back out.

I feel like I’m living in a badly directed movie stuck on an endless loop of inner monologue. I’m consumed by emotional agony, sometimes I’m consumed by extreme excitement… I don’t feel emotions the way you do… Whilst your emotions whisper, mine scream.

I don’t medicate, medication isn’t my friend. Please don’t tell me it is. Yes, of course, I’ve heard of SAD, I’ve pre-emptively been taking vitamin D since the start of September because of the change in weather. Yes, of course, I don’t drink alcohol or eat processed foods. I wear blue blockers, I take CBD religiously, I exercise but this is just who I was born to be.  Please stop telling me what the solution is, every day is different. You don’t understand.

I’ve suffered from mental health problems since I was a small child. I think I was born that way but I also went through trauma no child should ever experience; from being hospitalised from my autoimmune disease to emotional neglect and repeat sexual abuse. As an adult, things didn’t get any easier. I believed I existed to be abused and thrown away. And to an extent, I suppose I allowed myself to be abused – emotionally, physically, sexually. I even abused myself, my body. I’m scared now to know what it is to be loved.

Every year the pain increases but every year I fight back harder, I adapt and overcome. Some days are just like this. I feel like I’m living in a badly directed movie stuck on an endless loop of inner monologue. I’m consumed by emotional agony, sometimes I’m even consumed by extreme excitement. I haven’t slept for weeks because my mind won’t stop thinking. Please stop thinking… I’m not usually thinking of anything bad, but it’s like a scrambled message I can’t decode, like picking out a voice in a room of thousands. Sometimes I’m even thinking of my dreams but I don’t want them, I can’t make them come true anyway. I don’t deserve them. Maybe I am worthy of them, I don’t know. It’s hard to believe I am.

I don’t feel emotions the way you do. Guilt, fear, love, passion, happiness, anger, sadness – they’re all amplified. Whilst your emotions whisper, mine scream.

My only way of being like you is to detach myself from everyone I know. To create armour that nobody can breakthrough. It’s why I choose not to have friends or relationships, but every now and then I can’t help but let that slip and I make the mistake of letting people in for a fleeting moment. After all, I’m only human.

Let it be a part of you, accept it, make room for it, love it. It’s part of you and that’s okay. We are all a balance of good and bad. But just know that pain or excitement is a distorted version of the truth, of your reality.

I feel so much loneliness in the pit of my stomach. I wish someone would pick me up and hold me and say nothing but “I love you”. But, I’m safer like this, where nobody can hurt me. It might sound unhealthy to you but you don’t know how much safer it is. You don’t realise that’s why I’m still here. This wasn’t really meant for you, this was meant for me, I’m selfish I suppose. Sometimes I write letters and digitally rip them to shreds, getting rid of the thoughts that swamp my head. Sometimes I immerse myself in music so I can feel the pain enough to allow it to break out.

I’m not crazy, I’m not weak. You don’t know what it is to survive every day and smile through gritted teeth, care for your children, paint your face, work – I’m way stronger than you will ever be. You don’t know what it is not to have family or someone that loves you. I grew up being told every day I was a slut, a whore, a failure and so that’s what I became. It was just easier that way.

But, I bear that rejection every day, in whatever format it wants to present itself. I don’t let you see my sadness. I won’t let you think I’m weak or vulnerable so you can hurt me. I don’t really even care what you think, I’ve probably already written you off. I tell myself everyone isn’t how they seem, they’ll only have an ulterior motive. But I want you to know that I still love me, I don’t need anyone else to do it for me because I will always protect me.

If you’re feeling what I feel I promise it eventually passes (until the next time). It’s a reoccurring viral nightmare. I’ve learnt this now, it’s just a sickness, and that’s why I’m still surviving. Let it be a part of you, accept it, make room for it, love it. It’s part of you and that’s okay. We are all a balance of good and bad. But just know that the pain or excitement is a distorted version of the truth, of your reality. It’s caused by the chemicals in your brain, your trauma. It’s a cruel illusion. You’re not overreacting, you’re not crazy. You’re just human. Cope in the way you know is best for you, cry it out, lock yourself away, but not for too long.

I love you. You matter. I’m sorry.

Image credits in order of appearance; Cherry Laithang, Steve Halama, and Marten Newhall, on Unsplash.

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