Dear Depression,
You came into my life at the tender age of 9. I didn't know what you were, but you immobilised me, and took me away from the life I knew. I lived in a bubble you made, so thick I couldn't break out. You kept me hidden in my room, existing but not living.
You haunted me when I moved to a new country, made me believe everything the bullies said was true. You made me think I was a wierdo, a freak, and that no-one loved me. You drove wedges between my family and I, and pushed everyone I loved away.
Every night, when my tears poured, you would scream in my ears; kept anyone away who may have wiped the tears and eased the pain, anyone who could have told me you were wrong.
When your screaming became too much that the pain was unbearable, it was you who put the knife in my head, convincing me my actions were just and deserved as the knife sliced and scraped.
When I couldn't block you out, the vodka, marijuana and pills became my safety blanket.
You stomped on my confidence and made it disappear. You made sure that whatever I heard bad about me, I believed it. You made certain that I would never feel attractive, or confident.
You made me fall for bad people, your tricks making me believe that any attention was equal to love. You let that guy beat me, you let that guy try to rape me, and when I finally tried to put an end to it, you made it so I couldn't fight the rumours and taunts. You made me suffer.
When I escaped that part of my life and began my life as an adult, you followed me. You still wouldn't allow me any confidence in myself, or my abilities. You made me fight with my friends, to refuse every compliment and argue that they were wrong. You made them feel bad because of your control on my thoughts.
How many times could my confidence have been boosted if you'd let me say "thank you" to that compliment? How many times could I have felt happy, because I could feel good with my friends? Probably over a million... And you ripped them away.
You've twisted my thoughts for so long, that compliments make me feel sick to my stomach. Fear of losing my friends is always real, because you make me fight against them when they say nice things. You make my stomach churn, and my heart race. You give me panic attacks, but of course, you don't care. That's how you want me to be.
You won't rest until I'm alone, having lost everything all over again.
I have a beautiful little girl, and I don't want you anywhere near her. If you so much as give her a bad thought, I'll unleash my fury on you, instead of the way you make me release it on my loved ones. She does not need to ever know about the constant Hell you put me through.
But I can't do this any more. I've lived too long trying to please others, because you have told me that it's the only way they will like me. I want to be able to feel happiness. I want to be confident. I want people to see me, and to realise my potential. I don't want to live in the shadows any more, I want to know who I am. I don't want to live a life of constant fear, a simpering mouse.
For 13 years, I have lived in your cold, dark shadow.
No more, Depression. I want you to go.
Chazz
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To help people in Chazz's position, the Australian mental health charity Depression Is Not Destiny has just launched a platform to crowdfund the cost of therapy for people suffering from depression who can't afford it. If you'd like to find out more about Chazz's campaign and make a contribution to help her get the assistance she needs, then you can do so here.
If you're in a similar position to Chazz and would be interested in creating your own campaign to crowdfund the costs of your therapy, please visit Depression Is Not Destiny's website at www.depressionisnotdestiny.org.