Saying Goodbye to My Depression for the Final Time

Dear You,

I thought you completely left.

It’s been two months since I last saw your shadow, lurking in the corner of our small bathroom.

It’s 3:17 a.m. I was sobbing and thinking of hurting myself but I pushed you away. You walked away. No goodbyes. No last words or a reassuring promise that soon, you might come back.

Sometimes, I wonder why you can’t learn the art of being kind. I remember how many times you’ve forced me to fake a smile. You taught me how to hide my emotions and even mocked me that I look ugly when I cry. So, I’ve mastered the art of concealing my feelings and I’ve been stagnant in an unending cycle of convincing myself I’m completely OK, even if I’m totally not.

I never had the urge to ask you if you’re lonely or sad. I’m not sure, but there are times, or I should say most of the times, you’re too good at stealing happiness. You have the ability to destroy and screw up everything, especially if I’m doubly working hard to restore myself and allow that little happiness to temporarily counter you.

You’re too unpredictable. You’ve taught me to always wear a big fake smile, but it also pleases you when you often see me cry. You made me cry on my way home while walking in a wide, dark street; you made me cry in the comfort room of my workplace as my vulnerability consumes me instead of prioritizing my paperwork, deadlines and work-related meetings. You’ve made me cry in the coffee shop while I’m enjoying a cup of latte. Drinking coffee is supposed to be a part of my coping mechanism, but for some strange reason, you’ll gradually creep in until I can no longer detach myself from you.

You’ve taken me to different places, especially to the darkest and most terrifying ones.

You always tell me to revisit all the bad memories and self-defeating thoughts, to make me think how messed up my life is and how worthless I am as a human being. You’ve introduced me to guilt, to self-harm, to self-pity and anxieties to make me feel how long and complicated it’ll take before I could fully reassemble and restore myself.

You’re too good at draining the last remaining ounce of hope I have, too good at nourishing the pain I wanted to let go, too good at dragging me down and too good at validating my thoughts that no matter how hard I try, I will never get myself out or even pull myself an inch higher from rock bottom.

I thought you completely let go of me.

But now you’re back, smiling and pleading to let you in. You are probably stronger and more aggressive than ever, but let me warn you; I am braver and way stronger to face you too. I won’t run away from you but I’ll make sure that sooner or later, you’ll be the first one to get tired, until you stop chasing and begging me to give you a second shot.

The paralleled wounds on my arms and wrist may not have completely healed yet, but I know they’ll be scars soon. Those scars will always remind me that no matter how damaging and unbearable the pain you’ve inflicted may be, I didn’t give up.

Now leave and never come back.

My old self has just died, and a newer version is alive to kill and destroy you. It may be a long and ugly battle, but one thing is certain: I will never allow you to win.