Love Letter to a Friend, Pt. 2
Grappling with mental illness is a journey that doesn’t ease or end even when the illness itself begins to loosen its grip. I’m not sure “grappling” is even the right word; because when the devastation is worn down to its very bare bones, what’s left alone is grief.
Grief for the life we could have had, should have had, if x didn’t happen, if only we were able to do y. Grief for all illness took away — not just health and happiness, but literal years of our lives, not just in time but in memory, too. I try to remember what it was like being 20 years old, or 21, or 25, and so much of it is black and white and blank.
I’m still processing that grief. I’m still mourning what was lost, what illness and circumstance took away. But as someone who has survived nearly a decade of disabling depression as well as two suicide attempts, I’d like to offer a compassionate reminder that depression is not your fault.
Depression is embarrassing because of all it strips away; it’s embarrassing and frustrating and devastating. Being unable to shower, or eat, or do the dishes. Being unable to get out of bed, hold a job, send a text. But ultimately, the embarrassment is not our burden to bear. We never asked for this illness. We never asked for trauma, or for lack of treatment, or for ineffective treatment. We never asked to suffer. Circumstance hurt us, life hurt us, and we got sick. That doesn’t make us embarrassing. It makes us human.
In my opinion, I don’t believe depression ruined our futures. If someone were to have said that to me even a year ago, I would’ve gotten angry to the point of tears because from the bottom of my heart, I never — not once — thought I would get better. From the bottom of my heart, I truly believed I was destined to suffer for as long as I could withstand the allure of a sturdy rope. My hopelessness was profound. It was suffocating.
Despite this, and even if I hadn’t managed to improve the way I have, I truly believe depression did not ruin our futures. Because we’re still here. As long as we’re still here, we still have opportunity, we still have hope, and as cheesy as it may sound, we still have each other.
I’m thankful you’re still here. Good things exist, even when depression prevents us from recognizing them. Including us. Including you.
