Alyssa E.
Photography by Aneesa Wermers
Please note: Below I recount my experience with depression and I mention thoughts of self-harm. If this type of content is triggering I suggest you skip or read another letter on IfYoureReadingThis.org. I also urge you to think about helpful steps you can/will take if you are triggered by my letter.
If you’re reading this, know that you can create a beautiful life for yourself.
“When I hang up how do I know you won’t do something…how do I know you’ll be okay?” This was a new low for me. On the phone with a mental health professional I had never spoken with before, it was all too apparent that I was not coming across as entirely stable.
This past summer I called hotlines, reached out to various therapists, and sought help from a multitude of random places. Various bureaucratic forces left any substantive mental health help out of my reach at the exact time I needed it more than ever. In the last couple of months, I let go of people I love, struggled with my mental health in all too familiar and scarily new ways, fell one too many times, and forced myself up time and time again. All of the emotions and unresolved issues from years past decided to rear their ugly head at the same time, leaving me exhausted and hopeless. I spent my days crying in between work meetings and struggling to do the most basic of tasks. In spite of all of this, no one had ever asked me a question like that before. No one had ever been worried that I would hurt myself, at least no one but me in my darkest of moments.
“Because what other choice do I have?” was what I chose to respond.
At my lowest of lows, I am so, so lucky that something deep within me has always pulled me back. At every crucial crossroad or decisive moment, I have felt the deep understanding that only you can have about yourself. I know myself well enough to know that there is more to my life. To know that this cannot be all there is. To know that one day I will look back on these middle-of-the-night bathroom floor cries and moments of despair with a twisted kind of appreciation for the lessons I have learned. I also know that I have a long and winding path ahead of me if I want to get to that place.
As someone who is currently in the thick of it, there are a few things that keep me anchored and help me towards those brighter days.
The first is community. I have found that if you let them in, there are people around who want nothing more than happiness and light for you. These people, people who will hold you when you can’t stop crying and people who will swim against the tide for you, are to be cherished and appreciated endlessly.
The second is the future. Not knowing how the future will turn out is something that used to, and still sometimes does, give me intense pangs of anxiety. In spite of this, the unknowns can hold the exciting kind of anticipation, the kind that keeps you on the edge of your seat and willing to wait it out one more day to see what comes next. There are meals you haven’t shared and oceans you haven't swam in. You have not yet met all the people you will love.
Lastly, I am appreciating life as it is right now. Finding something special in the mundane has kept me afloat in ways that hope hasn’t always been able to. The feeling of sinking into bed after a long day, sipping a perfectly warm cup of tea, or seeing an especially good sunset are a few of the many wonderful things that life always has to offer whenever you are ready for them.
Alyssa E. (she/her) Boston College
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