Hello,world :)

I love you & maybe depression loves you too.

What’s up “When You Hate Yourself and Wanna Die-ers”! 

(I really need a better name for the people who subscribe to this newsletter…)

Welcome to the inaugural newsletter. As per usual, I hemmed and hawed, fretted and frittered, worried about what I needed to make this first letter *perfect*, especially since THREE beautiful souls have opted in for a PAID subscription, which means that people are taking their hard earn DAWLAHS, and putting it into this work. Which feels like a dreamy luxury.

The internal monologue in my head goes something like: “Meeeeeee? You mean people you want to put something as useful as MONEY into *my* *potentially useless* *art*? Whaaaaaaaaattt????!!”

But the truth is, this writing needs to come out somehow, and I welcome the support. These stories have been scratching at the back of my mind for years, a family of squirrels that lives in the walls of my brain house.

There’s so much to share, I don’t even know where to begin. But instead of sharing something “perfect”, something that’s been edited 8000 times, I’m choosing to trust that I was meant to start this newsletter in this space, right now, as I am. A bit messy, a bit off the cuff, a lot of imperfect, but hey! What were we all expecting when it came to a newsletter/future-maybe-book called “When You Hate Yourself and Want to Die”?

So let’s start with something simple: how am I doing right now?

In this moment? I am at a bar in NE Portland called “Bye and Bye”. I am already a bit tipsy on 1.25 glasses of house red wine, the kind that’s perfectly sweet but not too sweet. I am with two friends who I adore & who I *aggressively* pursued friendship with, as you just gotta do in your 30s. They both have great bone structure. Do really great, new friendships exist in your 30s and beyond? YES. Do you have to put work into finding them? YES. 

Do I hate myself and want to die right now?

No, I do not. Which is not always my answer, but today (and thankfully, more often than not these days), that is my answer. 

Before I get into this next meandering, I want to acknowledge:  literally, depression kills people. And I’m on medication for it and have faithfully taken my meds for the last 7 years due to a nervous breakdown where I became a crying puddle of mess on my parents’ floor. As a therapist and a human with very real mental health issues, I cannot emphasize enough how critical medical interventions can be for this VERY REAL illness.

But I can’t help but wonder…

WOULD DEPRESSION EVEN EXIST IF WE COULD MOVE AND CONNECT WITH NATURE AND SPIRITUALITY AND OUR BODIES AND REST AND CREATIVITY AND EACH OTHER THE WAY WE WERE CREATED TO? 

ARE ANTIDEPRESSANTS AN EVOLUTIONARY ADAPTATION, A NECESSITY FOR MANY OF US TO SURVIVE THE SOCIETY OUR ANCESTORS CREATED? 

This I know: depression is a brutal motherfucker, and only those of us who have gone through its shitty butthole several times know how truly bottom feeder low it gets. It’s a seriously vicious bitch that, when we don’t understand it, isolates us from all that is real and true and good. Even at its best, it’s a heavy bag of stinky ass that sits on top of you preventing you from doing…anything. Anything but eat and sleep and hate this life that you’ve been salad tossed into without your consent, thank you very much!

And yet - 

Recently, I’ve started thinking differently about my relationship with depression. In fact, I’ve wondered - what if depression is actually a gift in disguise? What if depression is actually a really good friend, who only comes around when I have forgotten myself? Yes, it’s a low-key abusive type of friend who only speaks to me through biting criticism and agonizing emotional pain, but still, a friend. The type of friend who only tells the truth, even when the truth may be the last thing I want to hear. The canary in the coal mine.

Depression has been a friend who’s tells me when I’m living a life that’s too small. Whether it’s a relationship, job, community, city, or even belief system - it tells me when I’ve outgrown what’s right in front of me and pushes me to expand. It reminds me of alllllllll the fun STUFF this one precious life has to offer, and asks me if I really want to stay under my stack of musty beliefs. It visits when I’ve made my life all about work, and commands me to RELAX , by casting a spell of uncontrollable fatigue. It’s never fails to remind me when my life is out of alignment with my authentic self.

Depression pushed me to sign up for songwriting classes, writing classes, acting classes, and guitar lessons. It motivated me to move to a beautiful new city in the Pacific Northwest, leaving behind 31 years in Los Angeles, simply because I needed to get away from everything that reminded me of all the HIMS (EX LOVERS) I had accumulated. Too many spots reminded me of first dates, first kisses, first “I love you’s”, and it was starting to get gross. Depression pushed me to channel my pain into service, to voraciously devour books on mental health, to develop a skill set that could help people deeply heal from all the bullshit that life has shoved down their throats. Depression introduced me to one of the sweetest loves of my life, making me so desperate for friendly companionship that I randomly DMed a former classmate and asked if I could join them on a hike.

And this newsletter was born through my depression. Maybe depression is an expression of our lack of connection - our lack of connection to ourselves, to the earth, to our lives, to our spirits, to each other, to our own damn bodies that miraculously move and breathe and beat. Maybe depression is more than just a string of pitifully sad, self-loathing days. Maybe it’s more than a monster that lives in my body, and my body alone.

Maybe it’s here to ask something from me, from us, as we try to figure out whatever we have to do to survive on this sad and gorgeous planet. 

Depression tells me there is more love I need to receive, and more love I need to offer. And I can’t promise big, life changing things to you, other than I will try my best to pour as much heart and love into the words I write in these letters and chapters when I have the energy to write them. Because god only knows, I will always need more love. A specific kind of love that invites me to fully connect and grateful to exist. A kind of love that doesn’t look away when it gets uncomfortable. A kind of love that has only the best sense of humor!

Here’s my prayer: may I offer that kind of love to you. May you feel that kind of love from these words.

And may I feel that love in return.

Warmly,

Juniper