Dear depression (part 2).

Dear Depression,

I’m sitting here in Starbucks thinking about how small I am in this world, but for the first time, I feel like I know I am much larger than I feel. This past year was difficult. I knew you were here, but I refused to address you… and then suddenly it was too late. You consumed me. You made me feel like I didn’t belong here, and sometimes I still think that’s true, but I am much more important than I think. I know that if I weren’t here, parts of this world would miss me, and those parts are named Jordan, Becky, Erika, Steve, Mikey, Amanda, Nicole, and the list can go on and on. Because in this world, I matter.

You should know that every time I feel bad, I attribute it to you, but I’m slowly realizing that the happiest people feel these things. And I don’t know the difference between you and being sad anymore, but what I know is that I am allowed to feel sad without feeling depressed. I am allowed to miss Steve without it being because of you. I am allowed to cry watching Making the Band 3 YouTube videos. I am allowed agency over my own feelings. Because my feelings don’t belong to you. I don’t belong to you.

We can’t control where we come from, who we are, where we’ve been, how we feel, who we love, who loves us back or those who don’t, but we can control where we go from here. I know that you’ll probably be here for the rest of my life; I can never fully be healed from your grip. But I am a warrior. I choose me. You are not my destiny.

So I thought I’d just let you know, I probably won’t be writing you much more in the future. I’ll be too busy rewriting my destiny. You may have won some battles, but I am winning this fucking war.

I belong here.



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