I have depression.

I have an invisible illness. I have an invisible illness that just as invisible as it may be to you, it’s overwhelming and visible to me. It’s visible to me in that there is a vast veil of dust that I can’t seem to see beyond. I try to pick up some hobby I used to love but the joy I would feel is seamlessly met with despair and longing. A prolonged longing of better times, of times where I could dream, of a feeling that seems so close yet so, so far away.

As hard as I try to recreate the exact feelings of elation — or more simply, contentment — I felt in the past while pursuing my goals and dreams, I never quite succeed. I say to myself “I remember when I used to love that! Let me try it again.” Upon attempting to try, or reignite a passion for cooking or essential oils or the gym, those hobbies or things or places will never feel the same. The experience may be a bit clearer on some days, and on those days I get a glimpse of the person I was before I met depression.

Who was she, you ask? She was amazing. She was bold and funny. She was full of excitement, curiosity, and a thirst for the life ahead of her. She took chances. She made leaps and accomplished so many things she put her mind to. “Where did she go,” I ask myself. I ask myself and my therapist and my family this question in hopes that someone will come up with an answer. Can someone please just tell me where she is so I can find her and see her again. And tell her that I love her and that she is enough. And that the world needs her passions and dreams and that it simply needs her.

But I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet her again. I’ve become all too familiar with a present version of myself, and while I don’t like her as much, I have to learn to. I have to learn to accept her for all that she is and all that she has been through in order to try to build another life. It may not be the same life she set out to build before she met depression, and maybe that is ok. Maybe there is something better for her that can meet her where she is at right now.

As much as I want to go back in time, to experience the days I had where I felt so free and full of hope for what I could make of my life, I know I can’t get those years back. But maybe, if I and the rest of the world can truly see depression for what it is, and invisible illness — not a mindset — we can progress. Once I truly accept myself for everything I carry, maybe I can meet a new Her.