I Wrote a Letter
TRIGGER WARNING
Dear Deb (depression),
Ever since we met 9 or so years, you promised me that you and Sue (suicide) would take care of me. I was young and naive and I believed you. Everyday since we met you’ve told me that it would’ve been better if I was never born. You made me swear to secrecy, swear I’d never tell anyone that we were friends.
I would never be good enough, nobody cares about me, the world would be better off without me. Finally you introduced me to body dysmorphia. Repeating to me that I’m fat, ugly, worthless, and stupid until I believed those words and accepted them as truth.
You were never there for me. You made me feel like crap and shut out the people who I loved most. Even at the end if the day and I was alone crying in my room, you still showed me disapproval and told me that nobody and told me that nobody would miss me if I died. And yet I still listened to you thinking that you were the only one that showed me the truth, but instead I almost lost my life and soul to you.
You wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many times I tried to escape. The times I came to you to ask for help, you stood in my way and told me that I was just an attention whore and nobody cared anyways. And despite everything, I still believed you.
The summer before 9th grade, you introduced me to Clyde (Compulsive Lying Disorder). Clyde forced me to falsify my identity, to become fake. Lying would become my native language at the cost of my friends’ trust. But I wasn’t strong enough to overcome Clyde.
As 9th grade started, you were master of my life. You put a pen in my hand and told me: my skin is where I am to now right down my thoughts. When my whole stomach was covered in self-destructive thoughts, you handed me a notebook for pain release.
I wrote in it at school and after I got home. I only felt worse. I quickly became addicted to self destruction. You introduced me to another “friend”, Cat. She instructed me to cut as she handed me a blade. It felt so good to feel the pain you told me I deserved.
And weren’t you the one who introduced me to Ana/Mia/Ed? The illnesses who told me to purge? To starve myself of calories because I was too fat for anyone to care about my life? I met an exercise addiction because of that.
Throughout the school years, my teachers caught onto you. But when I was questioned, you told me to lie because I would cause them pain and I’m not worth it. I’m not sick. There are people who need help more than I do and I listened to you.
I met Annie (social anxiety) somewhere along the way. She infused in me the fear of being around people, crowds, speaking in front of others. My heart races at the speed of light as it pounds against my chest while I walk the school hallways. My breathing picks up as I start to shake, feeling like I’ll pass out any second.
Deb, you and your friends drove me to a breaking point. A dark place I couldn’t escape. As I walk through the world, I can’t see the vibrant colors anymore. You’ve thrown me into a blank coloring book. You are a cloud overshadowing my world. You shove me into the water and I struggle to breathe. It’s unbelievably painful.
I wrote my suicide note, revised and edited it, and re-wrote it maybe 6 times. I still believed I was an attention whore and that I wasn’t sick, depressed, or anything. I planned out how I would commit suicide because you told me that everyone, my family, my teachers, strangers, and my friends would be happier if I was dead.
But you were wrong. You were a liar; someone did believe in me and would have a shattered heart if I left. That person had been there since the end of 8th grade. He’d do anything in his power to make me smile. As I neared the end of 9th grade, I decided to fight you and that person gave me some of his strength to fight you.
10th grade appeared and I pushed you out of my life. But you don’t like being ignored and pushed away. When someone reported me for being suicidal, you somehow made me hate them. You stole my closest friends and yet I still fight you.
Deb, I hate you. I never should’ve listened to you. I’m recovered and purified from your presence. I’m writing you this letter for the world to hear. If one person hears this message, my mental illness was worth the pain if I can save at least one person from you.
For those of you who find this message, you’re not alone and I promise that Deb will leave you alone one day. I believe in you and I believe everyone in the world is special and uniquely beautiful. Your life has purpose and you are loved.
Whenever the pins and razors are whispering your name, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs because I care about you.
-Happily Recovered
Victim of Depression
Dear Deb (depression),
Ever since we met 9 or so years, you promised me that you and Sue (suicide) would take care of me. I was young and naive and I believed you. Everyday since we met you’ve told me that it would’ve been better if I was never born. You made me swear to secrecy, swear I’d never tell anyone that we were friends.
I would never be good enough, nobody cares about me, the world would be better off without me. Finally you introduced me to body dysmorphia. Repeating to me that I’m fat, ugly, worthless, and stupid until I believed those words and accepted them as truth.
You were never there for me. You made me feel like crap and shut out the people who I loved most. Even at the end if the day and I was alone crying in my room, you still showed me disapproval and told me that nobody and told me that nobody would miss me if I died. And yet I still listened to you thinking that you were the only one that showed me the truth, but instead I almost lost my life and soul to you.
You wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many times I tried to escape. The times I came to you to ask for help, you stood in my way and told me that I was just an attention whore and nobody cared anyways. And despite everything, I still believed you.
The summer before 9th grade, you introduced me to Clyde (Compulsive Lying Disorder). Clyde forced me to falsify my identity, to become fake. Lying would become my native language at the cost of my friends’ trust. But I wasn’t strong enough to overcome Clyde.
As 9th grade started, you were master of my life. You put a pen in my hand and told me: my skin is where I am to now right down my thoughts. When my whole stomach was covered in self-destructive thoughts, you handed me a notebook for pain release.
I wrote in it at school and after I got home. I only felt worse. I quickly became addicted to self destruction. You introduced me to another “friend”, Cat. She instructed me to cut as she handed me a blade. It felt so good to feel the pain you told me I deserved.
And weren’t you the one who introduced me to Ana/Mia/Ed? The illnesses who told me to purge? To starve myself of calories because I was too fat for anyone to care about my life? I met an exercise addiction because of that.
Throughout the school years, my teachers caught onto you. But when I was questioned, you told me to lie because I would cause them pain and I’m not worth it. I’m not sick. There are people who need help more than I do and I listened to you.
I met Annie (social anxiety) somewhere along the way. She infused in me the fear of being around people, crowds, speaking in front of others. My heart races at the speed of light as it pounds against my chest while I walk the school hallways. My breathing picks up as I start to shake, feeling like I’ll pass out any second.
Deb, you and your friends drove me to a breaking point. A dark place I couldn’t escape. As I walk through the world, I can’t see the vibrant colors anymore. You’ve thrown me into a blank coloring book. You are a cloud overshadowing my world. You shove me into the water and I struggle to breathe. It’s unbelievably painful.
I wrote my suicide note, revised and edited it, and re-wrote it maybe 6 times. I still believed I was an attention whore and that I wasn’t sick, depressed, or anything. I planned out how I would commit suicide because you told me that everyone, my family, my teachers, strangers, and my friends would be happier if I was dead.
But you were wrong. You were a liar; someone did believe in me and would have a shattered heart if I left. That person had been there since the end of 8th grade. He’d do anything in his power to make me smile. As I neared the end of 9th grade, I decided to fight you and that person gave me some of his strength to fight you.
10th grade appeared and I pushed you out of my life. But you don’t like being ignored and pushed away. When someone reported me for being suicidal, you somehow made me hate them. You stole my closest friends and yet I still fight you.
Deb, I hate you. I never should’ve listened to you. I’m recovered and purified from your presence. I’m writing you this letter for the world to hear. If one person hears this message, my mental illness was worth the pain if I can save at least one person from you.
For those of you who find this message, you’re not alone and I promise that Deb will leave you alone one day. I believe in you and I believe everyone in the world is special and uniquely beautiful. Your life has purpose and you are loved.
Whenever the pins and razors are whispering your name, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs because I care about you.
-Happily Recovered
Victim of Depression
