A Letter to a Depressed Me, Myself and I
Dear Me, Myself and I,
I’m writing this letter to myself, to me, to you, in the hopes that you will read it on the day when depression rears its ugly head. When depression strikes and covers you in a black fog, your brain has a funny way of forgetting everything you know, so this letter is here to remind you of all the things you may forget.
The black fog takes away your inner light, you feel nothing yet feel everything, and although you feel like you will always feel this way please know you will not. The cloud will go! It may take a day, a week, a few months, but it will give you respite at some point if you just see it through.
The black fog makes you lose your appetite, and the less you eat the less energy you have to fight this monster. On the days when the thought of even making a drink makes your tummy turn please do it anyway. I promise it will make a difference. The black fog covers your hunger, but your brain still knows you haven’t eaten, and even more fatigue will set in. Make this a rule. Do not trust your feelings; they are unreliable.
The black fog will take your self esteem and wrap it in chains, but you still have the key to those chains. Do not let yourself have time to sit and wallow. I know you have no energy, no umph, no motivation, no anything, but do not sit down and think things through. Depression is a toxic beast and it poisons every single thought you have if you let it. Keep busy — very, very busy. I know you just want to be alone and hide in bed, but don’t. It will not help you.
The black fog will tell you to stay home, and every inch of you will accept that so easily, but please do not give in. Go for a walk, anything, something, just do not ever agree with the monster; he does not have your best interests at heart, and you deserve so much more than this.
The black fog will remind you of every single flaw you have; it will magnify them until you only see your flaws. You are not just your flaws. You are so much more than flaws. You are amazing, brave, courageous; you just don’t know it yet. I promise the fog shall pass. Keep going, plod on, head down. You can do it. I promise you can.
Have a shower, get dressed. The black fog zaps your energy, but force yourself to shower and get dressed. That will be one batte down with the fog. Do it. Every single time, do it.
Tell someone how you feel. Stop letting this black fog keep you trapped in the chains of shame. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Ask for a hug, tell someone to send good vibes or say a prayer. Tell someone it is hard right now and you need their strength too. Do not battle a bad day, week, month, year, alone. Find someone and tell them. You will feel strengthened by breaking the silence. The black fog works better under circumstances of shame, so kick its ass and set some of yourself free. Never suffer in silence, never. Being strong does not mean being silent, please remember this.
The black fog will tell you that you are better off not around, but it’s a lie. You’ll often think about how life would play out if you weren’t here. I’ll tell you now how it would turn out if you ended it all – crap! It would be absolute crap for your family and friends. They are most definitely not better off without you. This world needs you. That black fog is a liar. Depression is a big, fat stinking liar. That is not the answer, ever. No matter how much you feel it is, it is not. Not now, not ever. You are needed, and you are more than able to fight this monster.
I know you’re tired of fighting. I know you feel the black fog approach and it shakes you to the core, but you are strong enough to send it running time and time again. I cannot tell you that one day it will be completely gone, because I just don’t know. What I do know is that you’ve held on for this long and have kicked its butt more than it’s gripped your life — for that you should be proud.
On the days when you’re tired of fighting, read this letter; this letter is just for you, for me, myself. A reminder of all that gets lost in the black fog. There is a light, and it never goes out; it just gets lost in the fog. You are loved, you are wanted, you are worthwhile, and you are more than a conqueror!
Lots of love,
Me, Myself and I
Follow this journey on Swords & Snoodles.
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.
Becci is a 31-year-old mum to two young boys. She has a passion for writing and often refers to it as her therapy. Becci blogs over at swordsandsnoodles.co.uk. She shares her highs, her lows, the good times, the hysterical times and everything else that goes alongside parenting. Becci is very honest, brutally honest, and prides herself on this. Not only is Swords & Snoodles a parenting website, it also often features mental health issues and experiences with children who have additional needs.
becci-nicholls