Sometimes I’m really decent with managing my depression. I’ll wake up at 6:30 am, brew a pot of coffee, open my blinds, and immerse myself in posititivity. I’ll work myself out of my funks, through scribbling down all of my racing thoughts, listening to the same happy, sappy songs over and over again until I’m far beyond upset– giddy, even.

Then sometimes I find myself pushing through the same routines to no avail. The incense and yoga doesn’t feel calming, the coffee and cigarette no longer soothing. My bed is my ball and chain and any semblance of life beyond this room seems worse than terrrifying– it doesn’t even feel real.

I’m not proud of myself on days like today. I’m selfish. I can’t make myself want to talk to anyone or complete basic tasks. I don’t want to leave my bed, much less my house. I’m lonely and scared and not entirely sure why, like all of my progress is slipping through my fingers in a matter or seconds.

I get out of my bed, drag myself to make another pot of coffee, and sit down to write for a while. It may not work, but the best I can do is keep trying.

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Bout of sadness

Yesterday, I cried in the car with my mom. We were at Starbucks. I never want her to see me upset; I know it kills her. I cried because I realized it was October 11th. October 11th is Eric’s birthday. My mom said, “You better go ahead and text him ‘happy birthday’.” I don’t know his number; he is a complete stranger, now.

On this day, for six years, I baked a red velvet cake with cream cheese icing. For six years, I tried to make October 11th the most special day of the year, because he was most special man I had ever met. At some point, I thought I needed more than he could offer, so I wanted to end it. I tried to wait until after October 11 to deliver the news. I wanted to protect the special day.

Since I left, I have not met a single day that wasn’t plagued with thoughts of what could have been- thoughts of how I gave up the one thing everyone is looking for. Since then, every man has competed with the ghost of Eric. I had been too terrified to love in fear of loss.

If I can never cope with this, then I got what I deserve. If by some weird chance you read this, know that honestly, you are the best thing I’ve ever had. You are beautiful inside and out.

I need you to believe:

You

Are

Enough

and you always were.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t see that.

I love you always