Dear E.D.,

The last time I wrote to you was about two years ago. I wrote an empowering letter, and I believed every word. I believed, and hoped with all my being that you would be gone out of my life forever. I knew though, that the possibility of that happening was slim. I knew from an academic stand point and also from an emotional standpoint. You. Are. Never. Gone. You’re with me when I wake up, when I take a shower, when I go running, when I eat meals, when I walk to and from work, when I go out, when I get ready for bed, when I dream. As much as I usually try to deny you access into my life, somehow you creep in at the most inopportune moments. When I am, for whatever reason, even a tiny microscopic bit emotionally unstable. Why do you invite yourself into my life so forcefully and with such gusto? I’m upset that I even feel the need to write this. Or worse, why is it so easy for me to let you back in. Why do I crumble so quickly? Why are you always there?

The worst part is the towering ability you have to make me feel so bad about myself and so depressed, sad, or angry (depending on the period of time) that I ultimately ruin other people’s plans, my plans, or moods. Right now, something in me is just saying I cannot go out. I lost all desire. And I feel awful for being flaky to the people I was supposed to meet up with. But I am about 10 seconds away from crying and have zero thirst for putting on a pseudo smile.

ugh. I don’t even know where to turn right now. My incapability of talking about this to anyone is ridiculous. But that’s all I want to do. It’s so dark and lonely in this place. I get there so fast and then it’s so difficult to get out. It’s hard to fight you sometimes because I have failed miserably when I let you in. I have failed, become staggeringly weak, and let people down. It makes me look like I have no confidence, no self esteem, no emotional control. No control. It plainly looks awful. Every time this happens I picture my parents and my mom’s tears and my dad’s angry frustration with me. Their disappointment. I picture my fiance thinking he’s about to marry someone with no confidence. And as soon I get out of this, I’ll push it so far back in my memory that it won’t be an issue at all, until the next hint of depression. Where does this come from? I truly do not feel there is a source. I don’t know what that means or if it is possible, but there are so many triggers, there’s nothing that is uniform enough to pinpoint anything.

I’d like to stop the streaming tears. Maybe tonight is a lost cause.

Please leave, E.D.

E

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