"I would, if only..."

For a long time, I felt like my depression was ruining my marriage, but after I started going to therapy, I finally felt like I was making progress towards being "normal."

One day, my therapist told me that often with her married patients, improving their sex life was pivotal in improving their self-esteem. This made sense to me, because my sex life was nearly nonexistent.

I picked my husband up from work that evening, and told him about what my therapist had said. Before I could go further, he interrupted me to say, "I would want to have sex with you, if only you had a rockstar body."

Even when I was thin, my body image was terrible. But this shot what little confidence I had. His cruelty in that moment made me never want sex again, and I've not since initiated. 

It's been five years since then. He's had affairs. I've been suicidal. He's told me to kill myself. And one day, I might.

"I missed you so much."

A few years ago, I started dating a guy. He was amazing in the beginning, and we stayed together for about six months.

After a little while, he started to become distant. I eventually managed to get him to confess that he kissed another girl. I gave him the opportunity to explain himself, but we ended up breaking things off. 

During our last month together, I suffered a traumatic injury that prevented me from walking correctly, and gave me severe physical PTSD. I couldn't stand to be touched in the slightest, and the sounds of things crashing or hitting made me flinch and become anxious. The want for death to come was an impending thought I couldn't get rid of.

After he and I broke up, we ended up being paired together for projects in two of our classes. Even though his current girlfriend was against him even speaking to me, he slowly began to see my cracks, and eventually I told him about how I had nearly attempted suicide and how there were many times I wanted nothing more than to die. My grades had dropped dramatically, my attitude hardened, and I was almost a completely different person.

After I confided in him, he told me, "I missed you so much. And to even think I almost lost you forever, just hurts too much." 

Those words struck me simply because I didn't believe at the time that I had anyone with me who cared. Even him, who stayed in the shadows and watched me get worse and worse.

It was one of the saddest and worst times because I knew deep down, he was the reason I almost died. But he's also the reason I'm still alive.

That's what stuck with me.

"Well, you haven't done any of that yet."

When I was in college, I struggled with serious depression. I would get overwhelmed easily and I ended up missing a lot of class. 

I was always upfront with my professors about this at the beginning of the semester, giving them a heads up about my situation before anything happened. 

I was enrolled in a class with a professor who was very esteemed and beloved by all students and fellow professors in the department, and on the first day, I explained my situation.

His reply was, "Well, you haven't done any of that yet."

Later in the semester, I missed a very important part of his class, one that others relied on me to be there for. He called me into his office, told me that I had disappointed everyone in my class, and that I would not be welcome to attend the rest of his class for the semester. He told me that I owed it to my peers to stand up in front of them and apologize, which I did. It was the worst experience of my life, considering the state I was in.

The next year, he retired. The school put on a ceremony in his honor. I had made great progress since then, and so I attended, and I realized something. I recognize that he has made so many positive contributions to the lives of so many students for decades. I recognize his accomplishments as an educator. That doesn't mean that he is without fault, and that doesn't mean he was right. I respect his reputation, but his dismissive response to my trying to warn him about a personal issue is what stuck with me.

"Your case isn't even that bad."

When I was about 14, my mom made me see a therapist, even though I never told her that I was depressed and haven't told her to this day. 

Based on the way my mom and step dad treated me, I learned from a young age not to trust adults. So I only gave the therapist limited information.

One day the therapist said to me, "Don't worry, your case isn't even that bad. I've seen so many kids who have way worse cases." 

In reality, I had a verbally and emotionally abusive home. I had depression from the huge expectations my parents had for no one but me, and I have a crippling fear of failure from the punishment I got for my best simply not being good enough. 

But yeah, my case "isn't even that bad." You're right. What was I thinking?

Terrible Role Model

I was in a bad marriage, had a small child and suffered back to back miscarriages. I was also battling depression and really had no one to turn to. 

One day, I saw an email to my husband from his mother stating that I was a terrible role model for our daughter.

This completely crushed me. 

I somehow found the courage to end the marriage, which really helped the depression. I went back to school and got my degree (which my ex never finished). And I have stood by my child as she has battled mental health issues, without her dad. 

I try so hard to support my child in every way possible, yet I will never forget that email.

"You have too many problems."

When I was about 12, my mom and I were driving to a school event, and I told her I was scared and nervous.

I will never forget her turning around and saying, "You have too many problems. You're always complaining or crying. It would have been easier to have had another boy than you." 

At that time I had bad depression and anxiety that she did not know about, and that still makes me upset to this day.

"I just want you to remember"

For as long as I can remember, my dad and I have been emotionally distant from one another. 

When my first serious boyfriend and I broke up, I couldn't eat or sleep. I was pretty much in the deepest depression I have been in in a while. 

My mom called my dad and told him that she was worried about me because I wasn't eating. 
One day, I picked up the phone and heard this:

"I know you're upset and probably don't want to talk, but I just want you to remember that Daddy loves you." 

I never told my dad that just those few words meant more to me than he will ever know.

"I'll see you in August."

I had a lot of issues with depression and suicidal thoughts in high school. Junior year, I took a college history class with a teacher who was known to be laid back. 

When the end of the year neared, I became wary of the summer because I would no longer see this wonderful teacher. He had become the only thing I looked forward to, and I think he knew that. 

When I went to say goodbye, I asked him, "What was your favorite part of this year?"

He smiled and said, "You were my favorite." 

With a few tears cascading down my face, I said, "I'll miss you, you know?" 

And he nodded, smiling, and said, "And I'll see you in August." 

It was because of him telling me I had to be back there in August that I stopped feeling suicidal. I stopped feeling as sad. Following a pretty awful breakup that summer, and a summer of pains, coming back to school and seeing my teacher's bright face and calming demeanor made me feel whole again.

I realized that he wasn't just my teacher. He surpassed that and became my friend. And seeing his face light up with such simple joys, well, it made me feel at home. And there is no place I'd rather be.

"At least one of them will turn out normal."

After years of abuse, a group home, and an abusive foster mother, my life finally settled down. I went to therapy, got diagnosed with depression and PTSD, and received the help I needed. I became happier, more confident, more in control of my life than I have ever been. I felt like for the first time, my life was going in the right direction.

One day I was talking to my adoptive mother about how my little brother might be too young for therapy because he wasn't talking much in his sessions. The she told me what his therapist said to her:

"At least one of them will turn out normal." 

I had always felt judged for what my birth parents did, but hearing that a professional believed that I would forever be tainted because of my past sticks with me. 

I may have issues, but I am not broken. I am not destined to follow in my parents' footsteps and I'm not destined to lose my battle with my illnesses. 

I understand all of this on a logical level, but there's still that intrusive voice telling me that I will fail, I'm sick, I'm not normal, and I never will be.

"Nobody will ever want you or love you."

I have struggled with anxiety and depression my whole life. I started using food to cope, and I ended up gaining about 50 pounds, which only made my depression worse. 

One day, my sister texted me after she'd recently moved out. She knew how I felt about my weight, but she wrote this anyway: "You're a fat piece of shit and nobody will ever want you or love you." 

To this day, I can't get over those words, and I'm not sure I ever will. I have a crush, and every time I think about talking to him or just saying hello, I remember those words and I shut down completely. Anytime I wonder if I'll find love, I think about what my sister said.