Dear Depression,

I know you think you control me. You once did. Your frequent visits and weekly stays can take a toll on my day to day life. I’ve grown used to your residence here, as you follow me round like an overly clingy friend. Sometimes you act like an obsessive prison guard, keeping me in my bedroom, locked away from the outside world. You controlled me for so long. I know you think I’m scared of you, I was. I would dread your visits, when you would unexpectedly come over and take control again. I especially feared the days that you brought your friend anxiety along with you. When the two of you would visit me like cousins from out of town, I would try to hide, but alas, you knew all my hiding places. I tried to keep you under wraps, but you had the claws to rip through the fabrics. You were two rowdy family members who I had tried to forget. The two who would come and ruin family gatherings by anxiety screaming at the top of their lungs whilst you, Depression, sat behind me whispering insults and secrets I had long since forgotten into my ears.

However, Depression, my old friend, though your unexpected visits are rough, and your friends can sometimes take up too much space, I’ve grown to accept you for what you are. I do enjoy the days when you go on vacation and leave me alone, or the days you shoo anxiety away with you. But, my dear pal, you no longer control me. I will no longer try to hide from you. I won’t run and lock myself away. I have grown to accept you for the nasty, dark thing you are. You may take up residence here whenever you please, for it will no longer bother me. I may have my days when you push too much and make me snap, but they won’t last forever. I know this now. I know you think you control me, but you don’t and never will again.