Dear Melanie,

I normally like to start my letters with “I hope this finds you well.” Except, I know exactly how this letter finds you. You’re upset, sad, and weepy, like a faucet someone left running in an abandoned home. Everyone likes to say that things get better in time, but I know you hate it. But I need you to listen, just this once. It truly does get better and I can prove it to you.

Between the ages of fifteen to twenty, I went through phases of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. The triggers were everywhere. Mostly from my family and boys who claimed they liked me. For me, it began in eighth grade when a boy fractured my self-esteem beyond recognition. From backhanded compliments to being asked out on dates as a dare, I wondered if it was really such a curse to have someone like me adoring someone like him. Was I unworthy of affection?

Eventually, I picked up the pieces and tried to mend them. I nurtured those shards of my heart for many years, all while weathering the storm that tormented me occasionally at home. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents dearly. But sometimes they also made me wish to stop living. When things were good, they were good. The screaming matches made me feel hopeless.
Until another boy.

This one showed me true paradise. We spent evenings playing games together, hanging out with friends, and laughing together. For once, I was truly happy. My overwork at home, the near-constant yelling over trifles, and life’s monotonous rhythm didn’t bother me.

But unfortunately, like all good things, they must come to an end.
I spent weeks wrecked over this small relationship that gave me such an intense dose of euphoria. But without this heartache, I never would’ve made the decisions to get better. I started to see a doctor explaining my symptoms to her and started antidepressants to aid in my battle against Borderline Personality Disorder. They made me sick to my stomach sometimes, but at least my mind was at peace.

From there, things went up. I made the choice to live on my own, as hard as it is, away from the stress of my family. There are many days when I miss the love of my parents and the warmth of their hugs, but it’s nothing a short drive couldn’t fix. Besides all this, I’ve met a man who cherishes me and never makes me feel like a chore. He handles both my heart and body with gentle hands.

But enough of me. I’m writing to you to tell you it does get better. I know this, because I am you. Just like you, I have stood in the face of a medium and had my deepest thoughts exposed in front of my parents, a thought I never once voiced.

“This one, she wishes to stop existing.”

How many nights did we cry and weep silently into a pillow and the night air, thinking this same thought over and over while telling no one in the daylight? You and I demonstrate that the odds are never fixed. There will come a time when we stop surviving, existing and simply get to live. But I implore you to please wait. I beg of you to just wait and keep faith. I promise you it will get so much better for you. For us.

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