Dear Hope,
I want to share some of my experience with depression and how I’ve coped with it. I write constantly, but rarely for a purpose or to an audience, so I hope whoever is reading this will be forgiving. I’m not an expert – but I am a survivor.
Depression takes many shapes and forms, and your experience will be unique. Personally, I would describe it as my worst enemy, one that wants only my destruction. I first experienced depression when I was 8 years old and being bullied at school non-stop. I would sit on the roof of my childhood home, stare at the pavement, and long for death. Back then, I didn’t fit in anywhere. I felt worthless. I thought that if I died, no one would care except my parents and my one (1) friend, who saved me from myself for about a decade without ever knowing I was depressed, just by being there. I don’t talk to her enough now, we grew up and apart, but she always picks up the phone when I call. I’ve learned there aren’t many people in the world like that, but that there are some people in the world like that. And I’m lucky to know one.
