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Thursday, December 22, 2016

A Letter To My Loved Ones

Hey Guys,
I guess, I am writing you to remind you all that I still love you. Lately my depression and anxiety have been at such an incredible war inside my mind that I am not really capable of functioning. I’ve heard you talking about me in hushed tones downstairs, and to other people. I know you see that something is wrong with me. I’m writing to say I am sorry. Since I moved into the old family house, and out of my most favorable environment, things have not been good. I’ve been in bed longer hours, and more stagnant than ever when I am around. This is part of my recurring Major Depression. Part of it is this house, and part of it is that I am sick. 
This home. My home. It just is not where I fit in best. Back in Eugene I had a crowd, a group to which I truly belonged. I was liked, and encouraged, and wanted by everyone there. I fell in love, and stayed that way, and made the most amazing friends. I was able to make work for myself, to make myself useful and stable on my own. I was always busy, and had little choice in the matter. This is what I miss the most about Eugene. I was able to flourish there – it was big enough to handle all of me.
Here, in this beautiful and wonderful podunk town, I am stifled. I have one or two places – at best – that I am able to socialize and engage with people of my caliber. I don’t have many friends, and I barely have means of transportation. There is no corner to sit and sing on for hours on end, not without poorly affecting my family’s face value. There are no bars in front of which I can sell my pretty wrapped stones. There are no friends to lend me their guitars so I can hide inside the music while not being alone. There are no mass lunches full of my best friends. There is none of me in this place. And that hurts.
I wake up in tears every single morning. The thought of trying to face the day triggers a flood of fears and insecurities. I am left void of my own self after it all passes, and I am exhausted before I can even get dressed. Then you see that. You see it, and you think I am lazy and morose. You think I simply do not want to engage with my family and be lively and friendly. I don’t blame you for thinking that it is what it looks like. Really, I don’t, and I am not angry with you for it either. 
I just wish you could see what is really happening. 
It is really okay that you never, really, will see it though. I can explain it a thousand times, but until you feel it for yourselves, it won’t make sense. 
I guess, what I am trying to say is this. I love you all, so much, for worrying about me. You have every right to, and your worries mean the world to me. I am fighting with all I have to fix this and get my depression and anxiety back into remission so I can live my life again. Though there is so much work to do, I will not be giving up any time in the foreseeable future. I will keep pushing for recovery and for myself.
I will find a way to win this battle.
Love, Mandey 

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