Depression was my best friend. We were entangled together like an intricate web spun in the finest silk. We spent every waking moment together sharing secrets nobody else was privy to.
Depression knew my wants and desires in the same way a parent knows their child. Its loyalty was only matched by my fierce defense of its place in my life. It was as tangible as any item I handled over and over again. My battle with depression began as a young girl. I didn’t understand then that standing out from the crowd was a gift instead of a flaw. I didn’t understand that being sexually abused in school by another student for a year wasn’t my fault. I wore my scars as a badge of honor not as a survivor but as a license to stay stuck. I bore the burden of unchecked depression everyday. I breathed depression and anxiety. I savored worry with the satisfaction of a mental health martyr.
Depression permeated everything I did from my relationships that became crutches I strangled with my neediness. It caused me to become the ultimate people pleaser constantly setting myself on fire so others could stay warm. To my faith in God who I was convinced made the biggest mistake by allowing me to be born.
Depression was a cruel, masochistic ruler that ended with me taking a bottle of sleeping pills and a bottle of alcohol so I could die.
Depression was something I thought would be my constant companion for the remainder of my life.
Three things happened that allowed me to gain victory
One, I began therapy that allowed me to deal with the life I was given.
Two, I began taking medication to help even out my moods.
Three, I trusted God to help me enjoy the life I was given and to work on the things that need to improve.
There is one more thing I have learned. There will be sad days and I don’t shy away from them. The difference now is I don’t stay there... I go through them then I move forward.