TW: Depression, S. Attempt
Life can feel like an uphill battle when you’re struggling with depression, anxiety, and other mental health disorders. These conditions don’t just affect your mood—they seep into every corner of daily life, making even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming. The weight of constant worry, exhaustion, and emotional numbness can strip away the ability to enjoy moments that once brought joy.
Relationships, work, and personal goals can become sources of stress rather than fulfillment, leaving you feeling isolated and misunderstood. Every day becomes a fight to keep going, even when it feels like your mind and body are working against you. The constant tug-of-war between wanting to thrive and being held back by your own mind can make life feel unbearably difficult.
Recovery is its own battle, fighting the “easy” or “lazy” way, as my family use to put it. Unfortunately they couldn’t see the work I was putting in to just get out of bed, get dressed or even get food. You dont often realize how difficult life is until someone shoves it in your face. Someone once mentioned how I should know how to keep clean since im over 18. I struggled with so many thoughts telling me Id never learn, i’m already behind, I cant catch up.
I know differently now and I am finally at a place in life where I am truly coming out of the hole my depression dug me and I wanna bring you along so maybe I can aid in your recovery too. Let me tell you my struggles with depression first.
It’s been a decade since I was diagnosed with depression. At 13, I found myself in a mental hospital after an attempt. I probably would’ve never been diagnosed if it hadn’t been for the doctors’ requirements. Back then, I had given up on almost everything—I didn’t even think I’d make it to my 18th birthday, so why bother trying? I barely passed high school and ended up dropping out of college. I spent most of my time hiding in my room, avoiding my family, and neglecting myself.
When I got my first job, I cleaned myself up a little, though I was terrified to interact with customers. Struggling to keep it together, I was told to either do the job or leave. With that I pushed myself to learn, and eventually, I even became a well-loved employee, respected by both management and customers.
I worked hard to climb the ladder, earning a promotion to manager. I thought it would finally prove to my family that I didn’t need college to succeed, that I could make something of myself in the real world. But instead, they saw it as nothing more than retail, and it crushed me. I thought that moving up would show them I was capable, that I was more than what I had been.
I never truly recovered from being let down by that. My own standards had become impossible. I always set the bar too high, believing that’s how I could prove my worth to others—to show that despite not planning to survive past 18, I could still find my place in the world. Depression always won that battle pushing down any accomplishments as less even when I worked hard.
I fell deeper into depression. I spent more time online, especially with the onset of Covid. It gave me an excuse to stay home, to avoid facing things I didn’t want to. When I moved into my new apartment, things spiraled further. I couldn’t keep things clean, I felt so alone. you don’t realize how terrifying isolation could be until you’re in it, so I got a kitten. For a while things went well, I kept my room clean, and it felt like a small victory. Freja, my calico kitten, was everything I needed.
But then, five months later, I lost my job. I screamed, cried, and almost ended it all. All the hard work I had put in felt pointless. The depression hit me like a train. I drove home, tears streaming down my face, hearing a voice in my head telling me to drive into a ditch. But then I thought of Freja—what would happen to my kitten? My mom wouldn’t take her. She already had a dog and didn’t like cats. Maybe a friend? No, I couldn’t think of anyone. I had to step up, for her. And in that moment, I pulled into my parking spot, alive.
Things didn’t magically change, but I pushed through my depression as best I could. I started forming new habits, like brushing my teeth, washing my face, and taking care of my hair. I even got Freja a friend, Valkyrie, and I was juggling more responsibilities—2 cats, working as a general manager for multiple stores when I was supposed to be managing just one, trying to keep my life organized—but eventually, I failed again. This time, I was kicked out of a family friend’s house for not unpacking quickly enough, for being “messy.”
This landlord was the one who told me, “This is basic stuff. You already know this.” And I cried. Life had just started to come together. I was making good money, almost out of debt, and then everything crumbled again. I fell back into the hole, stopped taking care of myself, and ended up in a job where I barely did anything. My cats were living with my grandma because I couldn’t take them to my mom’s. I thought I was done for.
But here I am now—sitting and typing this. I got into therapy after my mom told me she was worried about me. And after a year and a half, I’m finally rebuilding. I’m healthier, more positive, and I’m taking better care of myself. And you can too, with time. I know, I know—it’s easy to roll your eyes at the “time will heal” mantra. I was a major hater of it myself. But it worked for me. Therapy saved me. I’m still going, and my therapist is helping me rebuild habits, navigate the present, and teaching me how to feel human again. It’s a long road, but I’m walking it.
As I look back on everything, I realize that recovery isn’t linear. It’s not about a sudden transformation or a perfect timeline—it’s about small, consistent steps forward, even when the progress feels invisible. There were so many times I thought I couldn’t keep going, but I did. I made it through. And every day, I’m learning how to be kinder to myself, how to take care of the person I once thought didn’t deserve it.
Life has been messy, painful, and full of setbacks, but it’s also shown me that there’s still hope, even in the darkest moments. You don’t have to have it all figured out to keep moving forward. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that healing is possible—one step at a time. So, no matter where you are in your journey, just remember: you are not alone, and there’s always a way forward.