My Relationship With Depression: My Tormentor, My Teacher
And yes, after all these years, we do indeed have a relationship of sorts
Dear Depression:
I suppose this missive is long overdue, since you’ve been in my life for so long and no matter how hard I try, I can’t completely rid myself of you. I don’t know exactly when you became part of my life; maybe you were already in my bloodstream before I was born. After all, you did get your grimy hands on my grandmother for a time before I was born, and your grip was so strong that she had to be hospitalized. I suspect you have visited my mother from time to time, but I have no confirmation from her.
As for me, my earliest memory of you is from when I was very young, when you had that elementary school girl thinking about death, her death, long before she knew what suicide actually was and before that word itself had even entered her lexicon. You intensified your hold on me throughout my high school and college years and although in recent years, you appear to have lost some of that interest, your presence still looms in my life even during times I have not had to endure your visit.
You have taken so much from me over the years: My sleep, my appetite, my ability to work, my energy, my peace of mind, my ability to relate to other…
