I'd Like you to Meet Ted

My last meeting with my therapist went quite well. We were discussing what I'm doing to combat the depressive thoughts and feelings. I told M (let's just call him that, for reasons of privacy) that right now, I feel like the depression is always there - hiding just under the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to rear his ugly head and take over. M stopped me and pointed something out - I was personifying my depression. Making it into its own entity. Interesting, he said, though not unusual. Most people do that. He said I had done everything but give it a name.
So I did just that.
I'd like you to meet my depression, Ted. Say hello, Ted.

 

Oh bollocks. I've made Ted a cute bastard, haven't I? Too bad he isn't all rainbows and sunshine. No, Ted, quite frankly, is an asshole.

I mean look at him? Stepping on that flower?

 Seriously, Ted. You're a jerk.

The funny thing is . . .now that I've given my depression a name, it's easier for me to joke about it. Easier to laugh about it. And easier to deal with it. Because now I can say "fuck you, Ted." And that feels good.

So, fuck you, Ted.

 Yes it was Ted. Yes it was.