To the Depression That Tried to Take Away My Hope for Tomorrow
I first met you, Depression, in middle school, seventh grade. You were a stranger to me so I just let you walk on by. I never thought I would meet you again, but I did in high school. You were still a stranger to me then and I refused to recognize you.
You were like my imaginary friend in my head who I couldn’t get rid of. I believed you when you told me cutting would make me feel alive and present. I believed you when you told me I am not loved and not worthy. With your judgmental words, I seek to be loved and to feel worthy through deteriorate ways and through everyone’s approvals except for my own.
Second year into my high school year, I followed you and fell into a spiral hole. I tried to hurt myself in hope to make you disappear. Somehow, I pulled myself up from that hole and left you there. I thought you would be stuck there for good, but you came to visit when I was vulnerable, when my family was broken and I didn’t have my parents with me.
This time you stayed longer, and I didn’t know how to get rid of you. So I got rid of you the only way I knew how, by masking and blocking you through smoking, drugs, alcohol and self-harm. You stayed longer this time. So I masked and blocked you longer. Soon enough, I didn’t even notice you were there. You somehow broke through my walls in 2011 and showed me a new you, a stronger you. I have not seen this side of you before and it took me by surprise.
You brought along a friend, anxiety. I desperately looked for help to battle not one but two of you. You and your friend made me feel even more alone and worthless than the second time you came around. Until I met a group of worthy friends that drove you both away. You retreated. Life was fine. Life was good. You would come here and there, but you would retreat.
Little did I know, it was your plan all along to make me feel comfortable and think I may have you under control. Your voice made me feel ashamed of having you and your friend in my head. You told me people will leave if they know about you. I hid you just like how you wanted. I faked my smiles and pretended everything was OK. I continuously try to mask you and block you whenever you and your friend decide to step in with drugs. I thought I had you under control, but you were getting stronger and slowly winning the battle.
My friends and family did not have leverage anymore. You were stronger than their love for me. You were stronger than any love for me. I felt your ambush coming sometime in October 2015. I thought I can mask you some more, but you consumed me whole in December. What used to be only a week long or an entire month, became two, then three months.
I have lost control. I became you and you controlled me. On the night of December 29th, I wanted to surrender. My will to live was vanished. You burned my hope and vision of tomorrow. You made me believe I cannot be loved. You made me believe I was not enough. You made me believe everyone will forget me over time. You made me believe I did not matter. You made me believe this is what I wanted.
Somehow, whatever light left inside of me, the real me, sparkled at the very last moment and told me to keep fighting, to live. So I did. It was a constant uphill battle between then and now. You would play your false visions of me leaving this world as an answer. There are times when I think you would win. There are times when I just wanted you to win, but I kept fighting with help and support.
I cannot make you and your friend go away or your voice. You will come occasionally. Sometimes stronger and sometimes not, but I will not give up. I accept you may be a part of me, but you are not me. Your scars and bullet holes may be a part of me, but you are not.
I have hope and you don’t. I have love and you don’t. I have family and friends and you don’t. You will no longer be masked through my dishonesty and drugs. I recognize and accept you. I will do what it takes to know you and not mask you. I will not hide but be honest about you. I will no longer feed you. I am going to allow the love I choose to receive from myself, my family and friends to suppress and starve you. I am going to see tomorrow and I am going to fight every day, day by day. For me, for my family, for my friends, for hope, for tomorrow.
If you or someone you know needs help, see our suicide prevention resources.
If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.