Me: 1, Depression: 0

Dear Depression,

I want to begin by saying this: well played, sir. Well played. I admire your skill, persistence and determination to make my life a living hell. You used every available trick and, at times, you pulled a few new ones that I was completely unprepared for. For years, you used my horrible self-esteem to hold me hostage but these past few years, you have employed some ruthless techniques. Like using my husband’s affair to make me feel worthless. Or my fertility issues to make me feel defective. Or my bully of a boss to make me believe I was an idiot and incapable of doing my job well (a job I liked, too. So extra points for that one). And my personal favorite, teaming up with my low self-confidence to convince me that no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I worked, I would never be successful at anything other what you made me believe I deserved (which was very little, quite frankly).

You are a master of manipulation, sir, and for that, I tip my hat to you. But I know a secret about you. And no matter how much you plead, I’m telling everyone that secret.

And that secret is that you are an asshole. A lying, demoralizing, destructive asshole.

I don’t know what’s wrong with you that you have to creep into other people’s lives and so violently destroy them. Perhaps you need therapy to tackle your issues instead of sending innocent bystanders into the care of a therapist (and, at times, medication) in order to deal with you. Mainly, though, I think you need to work on your jealousy problem. Because, really, that’s what it is. You’re jealous that no one wants you around so you invade our lives to make yourself feel better. If you can destroy us, then you’ve won.

But I will not concede victory to you. Not this time.

For years, you’ve defeated me. You’ve hindered my ability to pursue my dream career because you told me I wasn’t good enough at it. You’ve prevented me from having friends (real friends) because you told me I didn’t deserve them. You made me think that I had no meaning to anyone, that I needed to doubt everything I did or said, and that I really had no purpose. And I believed you, too, because your persuasive abilities are just that good. Unfortunately for you, though, I am no longer easily persuaded.

How is that? I’m glad you asked because I’m more than happy to tell you.

You see, contrary to everything you’ve made me believe, there’s obviously something about me that’s stronger than you. With all that I’ve gone through, I’m still here. To quote Elton John, I’m still standing. A lesser person would have crawled up in a ball and never left the house again. But not me. I’m taking what’s happening and using that to fight on. I’m emerging tougher, more confident and unapologetic for who I am despite your best efforts to prevent that from happening.

That’s right. You can’t beat me anymore. I’ve drank your Kool Aid and quite frankly, it tastes terrible. (Also, I’m fairly certain it contains gelatin which you know I don’t eat because of the whole vegetarian thing. ) So I’m deciding not to have anymore. I know that my life trajectory hasn’t been the straightest path and I know that maybe I’m overreaching my goals, but so what? Who are you to tell me otherwise? Why don’t I deserve the chance to have a dream? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, I don’t totally suck at it, even though you’ve been whispering that I do for years. Which is really kind of rude. But that’s pretty much par for the course with you.

And one more thing. I am a good person. I do deserve to have good things happen to me. I deserve a support network and hobbies that make me happy and people that love me for who I am, flaws and all. I know I’m not perfect and I never will be but you know what? That’s fine. I like being quirky. I’m accepting of my quirkiness and I can’t pretend to be something that I’m not, no matter how much you try to convince me that the only way to be accepted is to be like the regular “happy” people. I don’t want to be like them. They’re boring and they kind of scare me anyway.

So hear this, depression. You have lost. I will not allow you to beat me for one day longer. I don’t need you in my life, I don’t want you in my life and you are hereby shunned.

I know you’re going to make attempts to creep back over the barbed wire fence I’ve installed, and that’s fine. I’m prepared for you. Because next time, I’ll recognize you before you emerge from the shadows and kidnap my life. Honestly, you’re kind of ugly and it makes it easy to spot you.

I also know that this war is far from over. But I’ve won this battle.

So fuck you, and kindly move along.

Love,

Jana

P.S. You can tell anxiety, your bitch of a sidekick, that she’s next to go. I’m pretty sick of her shit, too.