Letter to my Depression


So, I asked my therapist for a copy of the conversation that I wrote to my anger. I’m planning on posting it here when I get it. (I have that – as soon as I hit submit on this, I’ll type that one up).

She’s asked me to write a letter to my depression for the next visit, so I think I’ll go ahead and type it here since it’s going to end up here eventually anyway.

V: Hey there. I was hoping that we could talk for a bit if you don’t mind.

D: …

V: You there?

D: I guess. Make it quick. I’m busy.

V: Well, I don’t know how else to put it, but I really need to ask you to leave. Our relationship is putting a strain on my life.

D: You’re breaking up with me?

V: Well, kind of. It’s just that I can’t keep you a secret any longer. My husband, my friends, my family, and even my co-workers are starting to notice. My whole life has changed since I got involved with you, and to be honest, it’s starting to scare me.

D: Whatever. You’ll be back. You’ve been with me too long for you to let this go.

V: No, really. It’s over. I’m going to get on medication and everything.

D: Medication won’t help, V. It may mask it, but the reason I’m here is because you feel that you deserve me, that you are a horrible person. That’s why you feel persecuted, because you think you are a horrible excuse of a human being who doesn’t deserve to get pregnant and have a baby, have a family.

V: That’s not true!

D: It’s not? Can you honestly tell me that you don’t regret having the abortion?

V: But it was to save her…

D: That’s what you tell yourself. You can’t stop telling yourself that because you just hope that one day you’ll believe it. You look for confirmation in the most ridiculous of places, but you know that there is a part of you that wonders if everything would have been okay.

V: Maybe it could have bee. Maybe the surgery would have fixed everything.

D: And maybe not.

V: Regardless, there will always be that ‘what if” rolling around in my head.

D: And that’s why I’m here! If you constantly focus on what would have been, what could have been, how can you focus on the present? How can you focus on your husband? Your friends? Your house? Your career? You just keep coming back for me.

V: But it’s not always like that. Sometimes I can smile.

D: And sometimes abusers give their battered wives roses, but does it change the situation? Face it, you are too damaged to ever leave me. What’s medication going to do when you hate yourself?

V: But I don’t!

D: Really? That’s the reason why looking at the negative comments on Cosmopolitan isn’t a big deal to you: the posters can’t possibly say anything worse to you than you’ve already told yourself. Face it. This isn’t the life that you wanted.

V: No, you’re right. This isn’t the life that I wanted. I didn’t want to be here. But I am. And even though I can’t really see the exit just yet, I know it’s there. You think that I’m going to keep coming back to you because I won’t be able to escape. But it’s not like that. I’m just stuck here right now because everything is still so raw and fresh.

D: C’mon.You really think that you can move on? That you should move on?

V: I have moved on. I may not be at the place that I think I should be, or the place that I want to be, but I’m not crying in a puddle in my closet with the door closed anymore. I may be stepping slower than other people, but the steps I do take are confident and sure.

D: You just saying that isn’t true. I know the truth – what you feel when when you think about how happy you were last year, what you think when you drive to work in the morning by yourself, and when you worry about the future. I know that you run away from problems, and that you can’t run away from this. This isn’t solved with a break up, or a relocation, or a job change. You can’t run away from yourself or your past.

V: You don’t think I know that? I don’t hide from it. I can’t hide from it.

D: So instead you relieve it every day?

V: That’s not fair. I don’t relieve it everyday. I remember everyday, but I’m not reliving it.

D: You say all the right things, but I still don’t think you believe them. You can try to leave me, and you may even get occasional relief, but don’t think for an instant that I’m not always in the corner, watching you.

V: Watch all you want. I’m done with this conversation. I believe you know where the door is, but I’ll escort you out, just to make sure that I lock the door once you leave. And don’t bother trying to use your key. I’m changing the locks. Don’t say anything more. I’m having the last word here. Leave.


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