Dear Depression,

I want to thank you.

Even though you’ve taught me how to sob soundlessly into the depths of a pillow, hands clutching desperately at the sheets like a drowning man grasping a lifeline.

Even though you’ve taught me how to stifle my screams, despite seeing the blood rushing from a self-inflicted wound.

Quiet, quiet.

Even though you’ve taught me that people won’t break my heart. (I’ll do it myself, with poor decisions and hasty impulses.)

Even though you’ve taught me that pain is an inevitable affliction of the human and mortal life; as unavoidable as the passing of time.

No rest, no rest.

Even though you’ve shown me the depths of my pain; how low I can sink into the abyss of torment, how self-destructive I can really be.

Even though you’ve overwhelmed me with an all-consuming guilt – like in the Great Wave of Hokusai, I have felt like that tiny boat, precarious on the precipice of incessant doom.


Still, I want to thank you.

Thank you for teaching me how strong I can be – strong enough to dry my own tears, pick myself up, and rise to face a new day bravely.

Thank you for teaching me that wounds can heal. That scars can remain to show me that though we may bleed, we don’t have to bleed forever.

Quietly, softly.

Thank you for teaching me that I can sew my heart back together again – with the thread of God’s redemption and eternal grace.

Thank you for teaching me that love is a miracle – that despite how I might feel about myself, He has always and will always love me. And so I too will learn to love again.

Rest, rest.

Thank you for showing me the scale of my hope, how high I have climbed.

Thank you for letting me look back and realise how small the waves have since shrunk, how far I have come from my days of guilt, how insignificant the troubles of this world seem – when compared to the overwhelming wave of Love and Redemption God has given to me.


So here’s a last and final thank you, and a last and final letter to you, my companion of 10 years.

Goodbye, Depression. You will not be missed.