Letter to my Depressed Self

I know you never thought you’d exist. You were always the “happy” girl, and always busy doing a million projects: writing, knitting, making friendship bracelets, singing, dancing, and swimming (before you got sick of all the ear infections). You thought college would be the “best years of your life” so far—you were never naïve enough to believe they were the “best years of your life” period. But you started at a school that didn’t fit well. And you found yourself isolated, sad, and then depressed. You started second-guessing yourself, choosing sleep over everything, and losing interest in the things you used to love. It took your suicidal ideation to make you realize you needed help. And you got some. Too bad it wasn’t helpful. And you decided to “stick it out” a bit longer.

But you eventually switched schools and things got better. Just not back to normal. You still felt down, even depressed at times. You didn’t know who you really were anymore. You knew you were technically still Type A, but your behavior screamed Type B. You still weren’t writing, or making the friends you had hoped to. Summer came and you were much happier. You got some help that actually worked, but no one seemed to listen when you pointed it out it was because you were home and automatically happier to begin with.

Now you’re back in school, you’re back in your routine that doesn’t do anything to fix your problem, but you don’t seem to be as down as before. You even show interest in what you love to do, but more often than not still choose sleep or Netflix or Hulu over expressing your own creativity. Similarly, reaching out to friends is a priority that never seems to happen. But here’s what I want to tell you: do what you can when you can. Take and celebrate the small victories. No one is one thing all the time. It’s okay to not always be happy. It’s okay to not want to write a certain day. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a writer anymore. And even if you can’t see it at times, know that you have grown since you first became depressed. And you’re still on a journey, ups and downs included, so don’t judge yourself too early and severely. You’re a work in progress. As is everyone else.


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