Please note: In my letter, I will be discussing my experiences with depression, suicidal ideation, and self-harm. If this will be distressing or triggering, I implore you to read another letter or be ready to call on a support system. Please take care of yourself!
If you’re reading this, I love you.
When I first set out to write this letter, I wasn’t sure what to say. I felt guilty that I didn’t have a nice conclusion to my story. I haven’t had some magical experience that cured me of my depression or answer that will take the pain away, and I’ve realized that’s okay. I think when it comes to mental illness, there’s this belief that those who suffer from it are broken or fragile. There is a sense of guilt and pressure that builds because we aren’t supposed to feel any of the turmoil that comes with mental illness. The thoughts and feelings brought on by my depression are often reduced to simple symptoms of illness. It’s just a mild cough. A little more therapy or some more meds will make it go away.
It is okay to scream.
It is okay to cry.
It’s okay to hurt because sometimes that’s all you really can do. I honestly can’t remember a time without my depression. It’s a ball and chain that has taken me to some dark places. I’ve lost friends over it. Some of my friends are completely oblivious to it. Sometimes the chain is loose and sometimes it isn’t. There was a period in my life when dates stopped mattering to me. I didn’t care when papers were due, when tests were coming up, or if I had plans with friends or family. The blunt truth is I wasn’t planning on seeing any of those dates. I began self-harming in various ways and punishing myself for the way I felt. I spent countless nights making myself sick with the thoughts I was having only to walk into class the next day as if nothing was wrong. I began isolating myself because I was paralyzed by the thought of someone seeing through the cracks in the mask, of catching a peek behind the curtain. I was struggling to hold in the loneliness.
That’s when you saved me, the very person reading this letter. The truth is the only people that will understand these experiences are those who have also lived them. A frequent mantra when one thinks of mental illness is “You are not alone.” I was skeptical until I realized I was thinking about it in the wrong way. We are all connected in a shared trauma, everybody reading this and everybody writing, a unique bond that not everybody experiences. We are collectively united through individual loneliness. Anytime I felt like giving up, I thought of the millions of other people dealing with the same hurts and various burdens and how they continued to keep going. Suddenly a suffocating world seemed a little bit bigger. Anytime I feel I’m walking alone, I remind myself that I am connected to countless strangers. In this way, we are all surrounded by a myriad of invisible allies and friends; there is something beautiful and comforting in that.
We are still here.
I am doing better now. I take my medication every day and go to weekly therapy. I write and volunteer. I’m very lucky and grateful to have met some incredible people both because of my pain and in the absence of it. I am not free, but I am okay and that is enough. If you are reading this, thank you for staying here with me. I love you.
David L., Boston College 2024
AUTHOR CONTACT
This author has opted to allow readers who resonate with their story to contact them. If you would like to speak to the author of this letter about their experience, please use the form below.