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We Are NOT Alone in Battling Depression and Anxiety
Life can feel like a never-ending rollercoaster, and let me tell you, I’ve been on this ride for quite a while. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know I’m not the only one grappling with these feelings. After a long struggle, I finally decided it was time to take action.
Since childhood, anxiety has been my uninvited guest. A series of unfortunate events and stressful situations handed me a hefty load of responsibilities, all tangled up in a web of emotions. We all have our own stories that can leave us feeling helpless, but today, that’s not where the focus lies. The past is behind us, and life keeps moving forward—whether we like it or not.
As a teenager trudging through the mundane challenges of life, I constructed a fortress around myself—one that I believed would keep the pains of the past at bay. I meticulously planned my life and analyzed everyone around me, avoiding any situation that might lead to emotional turmoil. Little did I know, anxiety was quietly taking root, growing alongside me.
Anxiety feeds my insecurities and amplifies my fears. It leaves my palms clammy and my heart racing. It steals sleep and fills my mind with nonsensical thoughts that somehow make sense in the stillness of night. It strains my relationships and casts a shadow over social gatherings. It hampers my ability to be present as a partner and parent. And it robs me of my dwindling confidence.
Then, as a young adult, depression made its entrance. While navigating my 20s, I thought I could conquer the world if only I could master my anxiety. However, when anxiety strikes, depression lurks like a dense fog, ready to envelop me. I find myself searching for light, but just as I catch a glimpse, the clouds roll back in, reminding me of darker times from my childhood that I desperately want to escape.
But alas, it always finds me.
Depression feeds my anxiety and irrational thoughts, drowning me in a sea of overwhelming emotions. It isolates me, making me feel sad and unproductive. It creates a chasm between me and my family, both physically and emotionally. It offers a dark sanctuary where I can hide from the pain, trapping me in a cycle of despair that seems never-ending.
I’m exhausted—tired of running away. Tired of missing out on life simply because I feel like I can’t.
I see myself trying to mask my anxiety and depression with a cheerful facade. To the outside world, I appear accomplished, juggling a million tasks, while inside, I’m sprinting on a hamster wheel, desperate to outrun my intrusive thoughts. Everyone sees a woman who seems to have it all together, but the pressure is suffocating.
I find myself in a rat race, berating myself for not measuring up. I watch opportunities slip by, convincing myself there’s no way I can take on more—when in reality, it feels like I’m doing nothing at all. I rationalize my feelings, thinking that after finishing school, once we move, or when this chaos settles, everything will be fine. But it’s not.
And I’m not alone.
Eventually, I hit rock bottom, sitting on the edge of my bed, engulfed in thoughts of inadequacy as a parent and partner. In that moment, I reached for my phone and called my doctor.
Walking into her office, I was a bundle of nerves, teetering on the brink of tears. I sat down, heart racing and blood pressure soaring, feeling as if I’d consumed an entire pot of coffee.
As I looked into her empathetic eyes, tears streamed down my face, and I asked for help while she gently posed the tough questions. When she confirmed that I needed therapy, I felt a spark of pride. “Yes, an intern,” I replied nervously. “Wow,” she said, “You should feel proud of yourself for taking this step,” as she wrote out my prescription.
In that moment, I felt both vulnerable and proud. It took me a long time to reach this point, not because I thought I was immune or should be ashamed, but because I needed that moment of clarity to acknowledge that I couldn’t handle this alone.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault; my depression and anxiety teamed up against me. And for that, I’m grateful. If I hadn’t hit that low point, I might never have taken the leap I needed to.
And I’m not alone.
I’ll never be solitary in this battle. I stand alongside a courageous community that fights daily for their lives through therapy and medication. Together, we’re dismantling the stigma surrounding mental health.
We are not alone.
Depression and anxiety don’t discriminate—they affect people of all genders, races, sizes, and cultures. And that’s okay. Because we have each other to help shed the shame and embarrassment from our minds and our society.
I am not ashamed. We are not ashamed. And you don’t have to be ashamed either. You are not alone.
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In summary, mental health struggles like anxiety and depression are incredibly common, and reaching out for help is a brave and necessary step. You are not alone in this journey, and there’s a supportive community ready to stand with you.