A mere three months ago we experienced one of the most traumatic days of my life. It is a day I do not care to relive, a day preceded by a lifetime of events, a day that I am learning to stop blaming you for.

You remember, don’t you?

It was late when we got to the hospital, time was passing slower than usual, and I was hyper aware of the noises and sensations I was experiencing. I felt such anger towards you.

See, that night (as you had numerous times before) you wanted to have a conversation about my worth (read: worthlessness). You told me how purposeless I am, how I have nothing to offer, that I am weak, unimportant and everyone would be better off without me. I would be better off too, you said, I wouldn’t have to continue feeling the judgement and disappointment of everyone I was burdening and letting down.

Just do it. It would be so easy. Take those pills or better yet, pick a car, any car—just move quickly.

This was the night, that at your request I planned on ending my life.

Upon our arrival in the ER, the doctor didn’t do any special tests—no amount of lab work was going to help her determine all the damage you’ve caused. In fact even in all her expertise she couldn’t help me, I was transferred to another hospital, one that specialized in conditions like ours.

Were you ever right, it would have been so easy to just silence it, turn it all off. Through the fog though, something stronger than you was reminding me there’s so much more I want for my life. Even if I’m not always sure what that is.

That night I went in for what would be the first of presently three psychiatric assessments. Starting from as early as I can remember, delving into traumas, relationships, health issues and non-existent coping mechanisms. I knew from that point, this wasn’t going to be a short, easy battle but it’s one that I’m dead set on winning.

Today, I’ve learned a lot about you. About our time together. You’re just the accessory I never seem to want to wear but cannot bear to part with—my depression.

It is, however, time for you to move out.

Over the years, we’ve spent a lot of time together and there’s comfort I take from your company which makes me sorry I have to send you packing. Unfortunately, you’ve had a free ride on what could have been countless wonderful experiences for too long, and I’m tired of footing the bill. I can’t say your propositions to have the occasional sleepover haven’t been tempting, but together, our relationship is just like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole—you flourish in the darkness and I want light. Who knows though, maybe that’s just the Prozac talking.

I want this to mark the end of the road for us, but I know you may always be part of my inner circle and because of this we may still have our occasional run in. For this reason I just want you to know that even in our darkest moment, I was stronger than you. I want you to know that should we continue our secret rendezvous, I will continue to be stronger than you. I want you to know that while you’re slowly running out of time, I’m quickly regaining my eagerness to fight.

Some of my friends, family and numerous strangers have had to live in your presence. I wish them all strength and the knowledge that they have the power to issue their very own eviction notice. For you, my quiet roommate, all I can wish for you is a quiet life of solitude.

Read more on this topic in DEPRESSION: Ten steps to overcome it»

by Rachel Fortnum
Image: An old vacant house with Eviction Notice on door via Shutterstock