Dear Friend (is it still okay to call you that?)


Dear Friend (is it still okay to call you that?)

I have been a lousy friend to you and I’m sorry.

I miss you.

Years ago, depression came out of nowhere and knocked me to my knees. It felt as though overnight, I turned from a lifelong member of our friendship circle into someone who felt so incredibly unworthy of your friendship.

And ashamed.

So very ashamed of my illness. And also ashamed of the way it made me feel and then how those feelings ruled my behaviour.

Not understanding enough about what I was going through, it simply felt easier to decline invitations, to hide away and to spare you all the trouble, the trouble that I felt I was. I didn’t want to be a burden to you, to ruin the fun times, to be a source of worry.

As time passed and I became more poorly, I felt as though I’d set you free from it all. As though, in my depression-warped mind, I was being a good friend in saving you from this new lacklustre version of me, from the awkwardness of navigating this new frightening landscape and the negativity that had invaded my mind and was bound to seep out into all that I would do. It felt safer to withdraw from our friendship, from many other friendships and well, life really. As my self-confidence took a battering, you became higher up on the pedestal you were already on. Why on earth would you want to be my friend?The fear of rejection was so acute, it gave depression power and became it’s own self-fulfilling prophecy. I see photos of you all, celebrating marriages, christenings, school reunions and landmark birthdays and I know I should be there. I yearn to be there.

Many years have now passed. Ironically, my actions which served to protect you, did the exact opposite. My understanding of depression has increased and I realise too, that I didn’t consider how hurtful my actions might be. How hurt you’d feel that I’d cut our friendship off, that I’d “checked out”. How confusing that must have been for you, that your loyal friend became prickly and flaky. How I wasn’t giving you a chance to care, to be a friend. How my many excuses must have felt as though I was fobbing you off. How you must have felt you’d done something wrong.

If I could turn back the clock, I would probably write you a letter to explain what I was going through at the time. I would hope that might have sparked a conversation between us and that we could navigate the hell of depression between us, as a team. We’d still be friends, perhaps even stronger than before because by opening the door of vulnerability to you, it would have allowed you to do the same.

I’m so sorry.


Catch-up with our podcast, Everybody Blurts,  on iTunes, Stitcher Radio and Soundcloud.

Your donations mean we can continue our important work which not only changes lives, it saves them too – THANK YOU!

As Seen In

European Tax and Carriage Handling Costs

Please be aware that you may be liable for additional costs of handling or taxation of goods now that Blurt (UK based) are no longer part of the EU.

These costs are separate to our product and delivery costs and as such we have no control over them, please be sure before ordering from us that you are willing to comply with these EU payments.