PsychologyDepression

Depression Is Not The Author Of My Story

Over time I had begun to feel childhood hope growing apart from me. When she had completely abandoned me is when I met depression. Unlike hope, depression was clingy, selfish and devoid of compassion. Depression with obsessive tact brought little opinions to my attention about how others were more successful than I was. Then depression coddled me and told me it was okay to not try because failure would bury me quicker than regret. Depression encouraged me to remove myself from social engagements because I would bring everyone else down. Depression made me fearful that loved ones would leave my life if I let on to how sad I truly was. I sought out private counseling and did my best to not be too overwhelming for those around me. It really hurt not being able to be transparent with those dear to me but I couldn’t deal with everyone’s expressions of pity when I barely had the confidence to get up in the morning.

My depression quickly became the most toxic relationship I’d been in. My family thought their words helped advise me to focus on the positive but I couldn’t explain the unusual comfort depression gave me when he held me tightly in his isolated arms. He provided excuses for my lack of interest in activities I once enjoyed. He invited himself to any event I attended and sedated the motivation I had been saving to meet new people. Depression made me believe I had nowhere else to go. He would crawl into my bed each evening and rock me to sleep while tears streamed down my face. He provided visceral melancholy context to my experiences with deliberate force. Depression had been through so many eras of my life with me; he had me convinced with his consistent corrupt affection that our bond made me who I was.

The moment arrived where I stopped feeling special from his double-edged comments. I finally understood him to be the narcissistic, gaslighting bully he had always been. I got so wrought with anger about my fragile existence I decided to break up with my codependent energy vampire. I ripped my bedroom curtains open and basked in the perfect morning. Walked over to see myself in the mirror with tear-stained eyes and yelled: “This sadness is not a welcome part of my life and it does not belong here next to me.” Staring at my reflection I felt the weight of my piggybacking antagonist release his grip on me.

Now separated, I began to clean house and throw away the mementos. I replaced the photographs of us with mantras and uplifting quotes scribbled on sticky notes. I washed the shame out of my sheets and blanketed them with optimism. I allowed myself to rest next to my journal of gratitude. The nights I had spent holding my sides together to keep every emotion inside by force faded away in my memory. The sensation of grasping at hope while audibly telling myself “everything is going to be okay” now felt like a premonition and I was moving on.

I finally realized how to stop depression from acting as an author to my story. I became consistent enough in using positive self-care practices to counteract the clinging negative narrative of my life. I had wholesome truths, epiphanies, and indie movie plotlines waiting for me outside of my stormy nights. I was no longer living in a shadow of what I hoped to be and have began sharing my honesty from within the limelight.

This doesn’t mean I can claim to be one of the happiest people I know because I can feel depressions presence in the background of my joy. He like most emotional connections is only one olive branch extension away from being in my inner circle. The difference is… today, he now understands his visits are unsolicited, like a spectator peeking through the glass window of a party he was not invited to. In those moments, I choose to acknowledge my time with depression with a wave and a smirk. I am triumphant about the lessons I mastered with him my chaos. He helped me find inner peace by giving me the challenge of harnessing my worth and empathic intuition.

With sincerity, I hope this article finds its way to the melancholy and supports you finding comfort. Yes, you are loveable through your faults. Yes, you are worthy of living a good life. Yes, you deserve the good things you manifest.

Related

About the author
Intuitive, empathetic, silver lining kind of soul. Follow Mikalyn on Instagram or read more articles from Mikalyn on Thought Catalog.

Learn more about Thought Catalog and our writers on our about page.

Related