Letter from depression

Dear Sufferer,

I roll in like a slow moving fog, smother your motivation and sit on your self esteem like it’s an old comfortable sofa. There may be no particular outside trigger and it might otherwise be a beautiful sunny day.

But inside your head it’s gray, damp and miserable.

Heaviness moves in and day after day, managing and enduring life is more of a challenge. When will it stop? When will it go away?

Oh but I’m not done.

Like a lightning bolt out of the sky, I can strike and bring on a moment of such intense pain, you feel worthless. Pain so intense you even want end your life. Anything to get it to stop. But those thoughts? The result of my manipulation.

You struggle to think of your family. They’re so distant in your mind at those most intense moments. And sometimes I can convince you that not even they really care. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if you weren’t such a burden?

There I go again toying with your mind and trying to get you to listen to the imposter in your head instead of the reason that lies next to it, which gets smaller with each day I inhabit your space.

But oh my God you fight me. So hard.

Most of the time, you don’t end it but flirt with thoughts of death. Long term, all that can wear you down.

People think of you as weak for having these feelings. You even think of yourself that way because I’m so damn good at what I do. If they only knew what a herculean effort you put forth to fight me off, how exhausting it is. Quite frankly, I’m impressed.

Even though I upset the chemistry in your brain and wreak havoc on some level daily,  you have more control over me than some of you know. And some of you recognize that and decide you can live with me but minimize my effects with a combination of strategies. You get all rah rah and decide I’m not going end you.

What pisses me off is that so many who suffer my effects ignore the gifts I bring. I never get credit for that part–empathy, thoughtfulness, creative genius.

And here’s what might surprise you.

When you drag yourself out of that dark hole fighting, I can’t help but feel proud. So if you let me, I can inspire you, too.

Think about it. So many talented people suffer under my weight but go on to make great music, paint beautiful pictures, or write inspiring literature. Some don’t win, but most do. The choice is yours.

Yours Truly,

Depression

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Dear cold, cruel world,

Published by

Anne Moss Rogers

I am the mother of two boys and the owner of emotionally naked, a site that reached a quarter million people in its first 18 months. I am a writer and professional public speaker on the topics of suicide, addiction, mental illness, and grief and currently working on getting a book published. I lost my youngest son, Charles, 20, to suicide June 5, 2015. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now the legacy I try and carry forward in my son's memory.

13 thoughts on “Letter from depression”

  1. That may very well describe my son’s 25 year battle with depression. He truly was a warrior and I’m thankful he fought so long and hard. How I miss him…

      1. People think I’m crazy if I tell them every time there is a mass shooting, I wish I was a victim and could take the place of a teen or young adult. I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m 49 yo and have been dealing with depression since I was 14. I’ve learned to manage it but it can be overwhelming.

        1. We hear that a lot on emotionally naked. I take you seriously and I understand your pain and I am so sorry you deal with this disease every day. But I tell you why you are important. Because you don’t realize it but you have a gift that goes with that pain. It’s called empathy. You feel what others are feeling so when you listen, you really listen. People know the difference and they feel heard which actually saves lives. If all the people like you were to check out, we’d be left with a pretty mean world. Thank you for staying

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