Why These 2 Words Perfectly Describe My Relationship With Depression

I live with depression. That’s how I describe it. It doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with or suffer from, but “living with” best describes how depression and I coexist in the same body. Whether I like it or not, we will always be together.

Depression is selfish and self-centered. It doesn’t care about what I want. It tries to sweet talk me to get its way:

Wouldn’t it be so nice to stay in bed with me today? We can sleep all day. You deserve it. You don’t need to go to work. You’ve worked hard enough. They don’t appreciate you like I do. You don’t need to spend time with your family. They’ll never love you as much as I do. I’m your best friend. We tell each other secrets. I’m yours and you’re mine. You don’t need anyone else. You don’t need to tell your story.

Depression wants me to live its life. It wants its hopes and dreams to be mine. It wants us to be so intertwined that I am unrecognizable. It wants me to be its one true love. It wants all of me. It wants more than I’m willing to give. I want a life of my own. I insist.

I live with depression and I get out of bed.

I live with depression and I love my family madly.

I live with depression and I excel at work.

I live with depression and have hope.

I live with depression and dream.

I live with depression and tell my story.

I live with depression and feel deeply.

I live with depression and celebrate joyful moments.

I live with depression and am loved.

I live with depression and see beauty all around me.

I live with depression and am grateful for the lessons it has taught me, the strength it has given me and the compassion I have for others that it has inspired in me.

I live.

My life.