What my depression won’t let me say, a letter.

What I want my favourite person to know but can never seem to say.

I know I’m a hypocrite. I know I always encourage you to talk to me about the things that bother you, to tell me all the things you can’t talk to anyone else about. And then I know I can’t do the same. That I say I’m fine when you ask if I’m okay and I’m really not.

But I want you to know that it’s not that I don’t trust you, that I really really WANT to tell you. But at the same time I don’t want you to know what a mess I sometimes am. I don’t want you to think less of me. Not that I don’t think you’d stick by me like I stick by you but the depression and the anxiety throws everything at me to convince me you’d be disgusted by the thoughts in my head.

I know that you care but the shadows in my head and in my chest don’t like me very much. Everyday they’re there, telling me how you can do better than me, how I’m holding you back and being selfish by keeping you for myself. They say ‘if he only knew, if he knew what a failure you are and how weak you are he’d run a mile’. Every. Single. Day. They inject my soul daily with self pity and self hatred until complete apathy seems the only way I can keep myself alive.

I know how lucky I am to have you but my trouble lies in holding onto the belief that you’re somehow lucky to have me. That I’m somehow a person worthy of love and time and commitment. I don’t always feel it.

I know I come across as lazy and ungrateful and all the rest. But years of living with depression has sapped me of motivation. Whats the point in getting a new job? I’ll only be unhappy there too. What’s the point of tidying up? It’ll only get messy again. Complete organisation and tidiness just feels so at odds with what’s inside me it breaks me a little. I like a little chaos in my world because it makes me feel more at home.

Sometime you ask me to do you a favour and I’m so terrified of doing it wrong that I don’t do it at all and offer no explanation. In fact I’m so terrified of doing everything wrong and not being good enough that I can barely get up in the morning let alone face everything the day throws at me.

I want to ask you to bear with me, but the depression and anxiety won’t let me. I want to tell you all the lies they whisper in my head so that you can remind me that lies are exactly what they are. I want you to hold my hand when I’m withdrawing into myself, for the warmth of your skin to ground me. I want you to know that I hate asking for confirmation of how you feel about me, that it makes me feel weak and needy, but that I think I need to hear it. It’s not that I don’t already know, but the awful thoughts in my head make it so hard to believe.

So here’s my bare honesty, all my neediness and the soft part of me, I really do love you and appreciate everything you do for me, please bare with me and help me fight my demons, you can’t fight them for me but I need to know you’re always on my side. And you might need to remind that you’re there on my bad days more often than you do on my good days.

Please fight with me.

This post also featured on The Mighty !



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