Content Warning: This writing touches on serious subjects such as deep sadness, losing loved ones, and thoughts of not wanting to live. If you relate to any of these feelings, please know you’re not by yourself.
Imagine feeling like you are submerged underwater, struggling for air while everyone else is just fine. That is what depression can feel like. It’s more than just being sad it’s like carrying an extremely heavy coat that you can’t remove, even on the warmest days. This is a feeling I know deeply because I have lived with depression for many years and I want to share my story with you.
You might ask why I am choosing to open up now. The truth is, I kept this burden to myself for far too long. Sometimes, admitting you’re having a tough time is the bravest move you can make. So here I am, not asking for sympathy, but hoping that by sharing my experience, someone else might feel less isolated.
My journey into depression began when I was 13 after my grandmother died. She was not just a grandparent; she was my safe haven, my trusted friend. Her death left a large, unfillable gap in my life. I started pulling away from things I loved my friends, hobbies, and even spending time outdoors. My room turned into my refuge yet also became a kind of captivity.
The years following were immensely difficult. In 2021, things took a turn for the worse. I became absorbed in anime, watching it from the moment I woke up until I fell asleep, trying to escape a reality that felt unbearable. However, these distractions only offered temporary relief. By 2022, I even started having suicidal thoughts.
Yet, reaching rock bottom can sometimes prompt you to look upward. Towards the end of 2022, I made an important choice: I opened up to my parents. It wasn’t easy; they didn’t fully understand, and some relatives thought I should just "snap out of it." However, this first step led me to therapy and a diagnosis of depression and anxiety.
A surprising source of support emerged from coding. Working with technology became my new comfort zone a logical space that provided clarity when my emotions did not. Solving each bug felt like a small success, and completing projects reminded me that I could still create things that mattered. The community in the tech world gave me a sense of inclusion I desperately needed.
Today, I’m still living with depression it doesn’t simply go away. But I’m slowly learning how to manage it. Some days remain difficult, but they’re different now. The weight I carry doesn’t feel as overwhelming. I’ve learned that healing isn’t about returning to who you once were; it is about evolving into who you are meant to become.
If you’re going through similar feelings, please remember: Your pain is legitimate. You’re not alone. Reach out to people around you family, friends, professionals, or online communities. Sometimes, just admitting you need help is a major step toward recovery.
Do you have a story to share? Have you faced similar challenges? Or perhaps you’re supporting someone who is? Sharing our stories doesn’t just help others; it also aids in our own healing. Let’s keep discussing these important issues.
After my grandmother passed away, I started retreating inward. I didn’t notice the changes immediately. I lost interest in going outside. The places that brought me joy felt empty without her, and being around people became exhausting. I stopped communicating with my friends, even the closest ones. They reached out initially, but I repeatedly pushed them away.
Basic self-care became unimportant. My bedroom mirrored my state of mind: clothes tossed in corners, dusty glasses filling the desk, the blinds forever shut to the outside world. I avoided looking at my reflection my skin seemed to lack life, with dark circles like bruises under my eyes. Most days, I stayed in bed until hunger forced me to the kitchen for whatever required the least effort.
Above all, I remember a feeling of heaviness. Not just in my body, but in my emotions, too. Moving felt like a major effort, as if my limbs were weighed down. Even the fabric of my clothes seemed to press down on me. The heaviest burden lay in my chest a pressure that made breathing laborious. I wanted to scream about how much I hurt, but couldn’t find my voice. The silence in my room was piercing, broken only by the fan and my uneven breaths. It felt like no one would understand or care.
Reflecting on it now, I realize that was when I started losing myself. The happy, carefree kid I had been was slipping away, replaced by someone unfamiliar someone who felt lost, hollow, and deeply alone.
The Darkest Years
Looking back, 2021 and 2022 were incredibly tough years for me. They felt overwhelming, suffocating, and at times, too difficult to handle. In 2021, I started thinking about ending my own life. These feelings built up slowly with many emotions, thoughts, and pain that I couldn't escape from.
Early in 2021, I experienced my first panic attack. I was in my room and felt like the walls were closing in on me. My heart was racing, the air felt heavy, and it became hard to breathe. My hands shook and were cold with sweat. My room no longer felt safe. I had to go out that day, but just the thought of leaving made my chest tighten. Finally stepping outside was overwhelming. The sunlight felt too bright and the sounds around me too loud. What should have been simple became very hard, leaving me dizzy and gasping for air on the front steps.
In an attempt to cope or distract myself, I turned to anime. I hoped it would help silence the constant storm of thoughts in my head. At first, it worked. I plunged into episodes, making it part of my routine to get through the day.
Each morning, I'd wake up at 7 a.m., turn on my computer or TV, and watch anime. I got lost in those fictional worlds, living through characters instead of facing my own struggles. I spent almost all day, until 1 or 2 a.m., watching, barely stopping to eat or do anything else. I believed if I kept busy, I wouldn't face the troubling thoughts haunting me.
Yet, despite my attempts to distract myself, those thoughts lingered in the background. A time came when I acted on them, but I survived. It scared me a lot a wake-up call, but not enough to make everything better. I wanted to stop feeling like that but didn't know how.
By 2022, things began to change, but not as I hoped. The anime that once helped me now felt empty and didn't make me happy. I would sit with the same shows on, but my mind drifted back to feeling heavy. The things that once helped me cope weren't working, making me feel more lost.
That year, I learned that distraction wasn't enough. I needed something deeper to really heal. But I didn't know where to begin or who to turn to. I felt stuck in a loop of pain and numbness, unsure if I'd find a way out.
Early in 2022, I reached a very low point. The thoughts of ending it all returned stronger. A few times, I seriously considered it. Those moments were terrifying, like being trapped in a dark tunnel with no way out.
But something kept me going. Maybe it was a small hope or fear of leaving my family with pain and unanswered questions. I don't know, but I held on long enough to do something new: I opened up to my parents.
Late in 2022, I told them everything. I shared my thoughts, struggles, and how hard every day was. It was one of the toughest things I'd ever done, fearing their reaction.
My parents are old-fashioned. They believed me but didn't know how to help. They tried to support me, but didn't fully understand. Some relatives weren't kind, dismissing my struggles and saying it was all in my head or something I could just "snap out of." That hurt a lot when I was already feeling so vulnerable.
Even with their good intentions, I felt alone in dealing with this. But opening up to my parents marked a turning point. Shortly after, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, including social anxiety. It was a relief to find a name for what I was feeling to know it wasn't just my imagination or being dramatic.
At the end of 2022, I decided to start therapy. It was my first serious attempt to understand my mental health and how to address it. Therapy provided a safe place for me to talk openly about my thoughts, fears, and struggles without worrying about being judged. Initially, it was hard for me because I was used to keeping my feelings to myself, so talking about them felt strange and uncomfortable. However, in time, I began to see how valuable it was.
This is the first time I'm writing about what I've been through, and I’m unsure if I’ll ever share it with anyone. Just putting it into words feels like I’m releasing a small part of the weight I’ve carried for so long.
Reflecting on that difficult time, it was incredibly painful, but it was also when I decided not to attempt ending my life anymore. It wasn't an overnight change, but it marked the beginning of a slow healing process that I'm still going through.
The Impact
My struggles with depression caused me to miss an entire year of school. That year felt like a big empty space in my life. It wasn't just about missing schoolwork it touched every part of my life, affecting my self-esteem, my confidence, and how I viewed myself.
Even now, the effects stay with me. I still feel awkward around people, and talking doesn't come naturally. Sometimes anxiety becomes overwhelming, and panic attacks are part of my life now. They hit me without warning, making me feel powerless, even though I've learned to spot the signs and manage them as best as I can.
These experiences have left deep marks. It’s been tough to rebuild even a small bit of the confidence I once had. There was a time when I thought I would never feel "normal" again, but then 2023 brought changes I didn’t expect.
Unexpectedly, 2023 was one of the best years for me. Not because everything suddenly improved, but because I found comfort in spending time alone. Enjoying my own company was something I never imagined I could do. Solitude became a space where I could think, reflect, and begin to heal.
Before that, I felt like I was defined entirely by those around me. I didn’t know who I was, what I really wanted, or how to speak up for myself. I would struggle with words, unsure of what I wanted to say. But that year of solitude allowed me to start piecing myself back together.
This doesn’t mean everything is perfect now. I’m not “over it” yet. I still face challenges. Sometimes, depression creeps back, and I can feel its weight again. I’m still learning how to talk to people and how to feel comfortable in social situations. And, yes, panic attacks do still happen.
But the depression I feel today isn’t as overwhelming as before. It's more like a shadow, not as controlling as it once was.
I know I might never be completely healed. But I've learned that healing isn't about becoming perfect or "fixing" yourself; it’s about progress. It’s about learning to live with those things that held you back once and finding ways to move forward, even when it’s tough.
I still experience bad days, but there are also good days. And for the first time in a long while, I feel like I'm discovering who I am and what I need to feel okay.
Finding Purpose in Technology
I found help for my depression by diving into technology and coding, which became more than just a hobby it became my lifeline. It offered me a way to focus my energy and escape from overwhelming thoughts.
When I code, I feel a level of control that I don't usually experience in other parts of my life. The logic, the problem-solving, the ability to create something from scratch all this gave me a sense of purpose. Each line of code felt like a step forward, showing me I could achieve something meaningful even when life felt chaotic.
Technology became a positive escape. Learning new programming languages, building small projects, and exploring new ideas kept my mind busy and productive. Unlike distractions from the past, this felt like I was investing in myself and my future.
It wasn't just about gaining skills; it was also about rebuilding my confidence. With each bug I fixed and each feature I completed, I felt stronger and more capable. Coding reminded me that I'm more than my struggles and that I can create something valuable for the world.
My passion for technology also connected me to a community. Despite struggling with social anxiety and feeling awkward in conversations, I found others in the tech world who shared my interests. Online forums, tutorials, and communities gave me a space to connect by reading others' stories or sharing my successes.
Looking back, technology and coding gave me hope. It was something to look forward to on the hardest days, helping me keep going. It didn't solve everything, but it gave me a foundation to rebuild my life.
Final Thoughts
When I began writing this, I wasn't sure what I wanted to say, but I felt the need to express myself. Writing about my experience is messy, like trying to sort out thoughts I've kept hidden. Even if my words aren't perfect, I hope someone else going through something similar can relate.
During my depression, I read online stories about others facing their struggles and finding their way out. I searched for anything that could help me feel less alone. I admired those who shared their journeys but never felt confident enough to share mine.
I kept everything inside, thinking no one would understand or care. Now, writing this has helped me realize it's not about being perfectly understood. It's about sharing my story and hoping someone else finds comfort in knowing they're not alone, just as I did.
Thank you for reading.