How I Conquered My Anxiety By Becoming Depressed

Yaaaaaaaay.

Calling all worrywarts, fraidy-cats, and nervous Nellies! Fret no more because I’ve discovered an incredible new cure for anxiety. It’s called Depression™! 

With depression, you can finally hop off the heart-racing rollercoaster of panic and start cruisin’ down a lazy river of existential dread. Goodbye, adrenal response! Hello, dull throb of despair! Now, I know what you’re thinking: having depression sounds just as bad as having anxiety! But that’s an anxious thought. We don’t do those anymore. We honestly don’t do much of anything anymore.

My life has improved in so many ways since I became depressed. For starters, my social anxiety is gone. I used to go out with friends and spend the whole night worrying if everyone liked me. Now, I never even leave my house, and I’m positive nobody likes me. (Who can blame them? I freakin’ suck!)

I no longer waste hours ruminating over possible worst-case scenarios. Instead, I focus on the fact that we’re already living in one! Robots are taking over, we’ll all outlive our pets, World War III is a sneeze away, and the Worst Guy Ever is back for an unnecessary sequel. Sit back, relax, and quietly endure the horrors. 

In the past, I’d stash emergency kits all over in case of earthquakes, power outages, or another global pandemic. But why should that emergency kit get all the good food? My depressed ass reclaimed those canned beans—because I’m worth it! And also sad!

I don’t have to worry about E. coli outbreaks in my produce either, since I haven’t seen a vegetable in weeks! (However, if the family-sized sheet cakes from my local Albertsons become contaminated, I will need someone to drive me to the hospital.)

Another depression perk: all my phobias vanished. I used to be scared of flying, but now when we take off I cross my fingers and hope for the worst. I swear to god, my pilot better not try any Sully shit! If the birds will it, we go down!

The best part? Depression is totally free. Xanax prescriptions and mindfulness retreats cost cold hard cash. But to get your daily dose of depression, all you have to do is read the news. Every morning I greet the day’s news cycle with a hearty “YUP,” then I drink a cup of hot water because putting the tea bag in simply requires too much of me.

If anxiety is ruining your life, I cannot recommend depression enough. You deserve to be set free from irrational worries, like falling in the shower and breaking your back, then lying face down while you slowly drown in an inch of water, crying out for help only to remember how deeply alone you are.

With depression, you’ll still be alone—but you’re good on the drowning bit because you’ll almost never take a shower.

Solid advice, right? I guess I cured a mental illness that currently plagues one in five Americans. But please, don’t call me a hero. I much prefer the title “worthless waste of space.”

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