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Above all else, I want to dispense fully and forever with the idea that depression, or any mental illness, = weakness. This is why people blame themselves. This is why people are afraid to ask for help.
You are not weak because you're depressed. And you don't have to believe it will get better. I wrote a long essay about this a few years ago. I didn't, and have no intention to, publish it anywhere other than my personal Facebook page. But I will share how it ends.
I wrote about the years I spent thinking of the girl I once was, and wishing I could help her — wishing I could convince her that life would get better, but knowing she would never have believed me. And I wrote about what that semicolon ring meant to me.
"When I look at the ring," I wrote, "I see that girl on the kitchen floor, but I see her in a different light. I don’t feel the sudden, explosive ache, the desperate need to reach through time to help." (1/2)
"I wish, still, that I could have spared her so much anguish. But she survived it without me. What I see when I look at the ring is the hope she couldn’t feel, and the strength she was sure she didn’t have." (2/2, end)
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