
An Open Letter About Chronic Illness And Depression
Editor's Note by Brendan McDonald: This open letter about chronic illness and depression, written by Anna Tsagkari, is a deeply personal and moving reflection on life with invisible pain. It’s a powerful reminder of the emotional toll of bottling up emotions and how expressing thoughts can offer relief. At URevolution, we believe in amplifying honest voices that challenge stigma and make space for vulnerability. This letter is a testament to how letter writing can help your mental health by giving form to feelings that are often too heavy to carry alone.
Please note: this letter contains references to suicidal ideation, PTSD, and depression.
This heartfelt letter about chronic illness and depression shares one woman’s experience living with chronic illness and mental health challenges.
The author reflects on the emotional cost of bottling up emotions and the isolation that often comes with invisible conditions.
Her story powerfully illustrates how letter writing can help your mental health by expressing feelings that are too overwhelming to say aloud.
A Personal Letter About Chronic Illness And Depression
When You're Not Ready to Tell Your Story Yet
To all my fellow chronically ill journeyers out there,
If you expect to read a humorous or witty story about recovery from chronic illness, you will not find this story to your liking. In this open letter about depression and illness, I will attempt to talk about my journey with chronic pain and how we have evolved together.
This open letter is the first part, so it is raw, honest, and blue. If you feel it might trigger unpleasant memories, please skip it. If you are not yet at a stage in your journey where life stories about chronic health issues bring you comfort and soothe your ailment, then this story may not be for you.
I wanted to share my story, but I’m afraid I'm not emotionally ready to do that yet. I started writing, but I found myself unable to do that. Instead, I started crying. Oh, I could keep crying and crying. I could write a novel with my tears. I feel as though the pain has reached so deep in my brain that my brain cells have transformed into pain cells. All my memories came back, crashing like waves. I find it ambitious that I want to write about my painful journey and speed up the healing process. I am not there yet. A little bit more patience. I do envy others who can do it. Those who can joke about their condition or have nonchalant conversations about it (I only have uncomfortable and awkward conversations).
Everyone’s Recovery Is Different — and Mine Is Still Ongoing
One thing I have learned though is not to compare my pain and my journey with others. Everyone’s path is different, and it is important to acknowledge that. It is not a race or competition. I have to keep reminding myself of this beautiful quote of Claire Stancliffe: “Celebrate every small bit of progress and never compare yourself to anyone else. Everyone’s recovery is different and unique” (Curtis: 2019).
Where should I begin? I'm having trouble finding something humorous or witty to write. I suppose I'm not in that stage of recovery. I have accepted my reality, but it is a tough one, and the wounds from the trauma are fresh and bleeding.
It has been five years since I have been in daily, persistent, unbearable pain. It has been five years of endless doctor appointments, medications, and incorrect diagnoses. Five years full of insomnia, stress, loneliness, exhaustion, physical pain, eating disorders, depression, and anxiety. It has been five months now that I have been going to therapy and four that I have been taking antidepressants. The pain is still with me. A gentler version of him, but it is here.
When Pain Continues but Life Doesn’t Pause
What I have learned from this time is that life does not stop and wait for you. Time does not stop because you are in pain. You suffer, and life goes on. It is that simple.
You either keep up the illusion of living for the sake of others, or you end everything. You stop time. Then, life has no power over you. Nobody can blame you for not living your life to the fullest. It is because you want to live that you cannot continue living this way.
See? I am aware of how depressing it sounds.
You Are Not Your Pain — There Is Always Hope
I want to end my open letter about chronic illness and depression on a positive note. I am thankful for my pain, even if my trauma is deep. It has made me wiser and a more complete version of myself. It forced me to reevaluate my priorities for my whole life. I am currently in the midst of my journey, and I have made considerable progress. There is always hope. The road will not always be that bumpy.
Remember that your suffering does not define who you are. You are not your pain. You are an exceptional, resilient, beautiful soul. Never forget this, and never let anyone tell you otherwise.
We are in this together.
You are not alone.
What you are going through is not your fault.
Ask for help.
Many people care for you.
Ask for professional help.
Do not give up. I see you, and I love you.
I will get back to you with my progress.
Hopefully, it will be more uplifting and motivating!
A few inspiring resources from Anna about writing letters about depression:
- Instagram accounts @selfcareisapriority, @themindgeek, @i_weigh, @jameelajamilofficial
- Book: It’s Not Okay to Feel Blue and Other Lies. Inspirational individuals share their experiences with mental health. Curated by Scarlett Curtis. Penguin Books
- Podcasts: I Weigh with Jameela Jamil

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