a place where it doesn’t hurt.

In early November of 2016, I stayed with my parents in Ontario for about five weeks. It was a tough time for me – my depression had reared its ugly head, and was a weight on my shoulders that wouldn’t let me up. I was drowning.

When I arrived in Ontario, I slept for days. My depression had led to strep throat, which became bronchitis, which turned into me sleeping for nearly twenty hours a day. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was crying.

I remember one Sunday in particular. I woke up and the sunshine was coming through my window, and I felt instantly energized. I wanted to be outside. It was even warm – winter hadn’t yet begun, and the air still smelled of that crisp autumn earthy smell. My parents asked me to go for a walk with them, and for the first time in nearly a week, I left the house.

We walked for maybe half an hour. At the beginning of the walk I was so full of hope – Could this be the start of my healing? Is it this easy? Did I just need to see the sun? 

But after about ten minutes, a dark cloud moved in, casting a shadow over only me; the sun still shone for the rest of the world.

You will never be happy. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life crying in bed?

I started to cry, walked ahead of my parents, and lead the way home. I walked into the backyard and sat on the patio stairs. Dad came and sat beside me and let me cry into his shoulder.

I will never forget the conversation we had next:

“Dad, I wish I had cancer. Because then I would have something wrong with me that people could see, and I wouldn’t feel so ashamed to feel this way.”

“I know sweetie, depression is hard.”

“Dad, I don’t want to live anymore. I just want to say good-bye to my family and friends, and just go some place where it doesn’t hurt.”

This was the first time I had said the words out loud – The first time I said them to another human being – They were no longer just scribbles in my journal. Someone else finally knew how I felt, and it was freeing.


I am not sharing this story to make you sad (even though I have shed a tear or two while sitting here writing it), but I am sharing it to show you how far I have come.

I know that it feels like it’s going to last forever, but it won’t. I promise. It’s not all good, but it’s not all bad either. Your dark cloud will go away, the weight will lift, and the tears will dry. I believe in you.


I love you, Dad.


5 thoughts on “a place where it doesn’t hurt.

  1. Your dad is a wonderful man, so it’s no wonder that he created such a beautiful daughter. He’s been there for me when I was grieving my dad and his words were warming. I love him too ☺️

    Liked by 1 person

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