I never thought I would be the one to deal with depression. I mean, life was fine. I had a job, a family, and friends. I was doing okay, or so I thought. But a few years ago, things started feeling... heavy. Like, really heavy. I would wake up every morning with this knot in my stomach. Some days I couldn't even get out of bed. Other days, I'd go to work but felt like I was just going through the motions. Nobody noticed. Or maybe they did, and I just pretended I was fine.

It was the worst during weekends when I didn’t have to distract myself with work. I remember one Sunday, I didn’t even bother to get dressed. I lay in bed all day, feeling like a failure. My mind was so noisy, and I couldn’t make it stop. I thought, "Why am I like this? Other people have worse problems." But the sadness wouldn’t go away.

One day, my best friend called. I hadn’t talked to her in months. She asked me how I was doing, and for the first time, I couldn’t lie. I just broke down. I cried and told her I felt like I was losing myself. She didn’t say much, but she told me I needed to talk to someone, a therapist. I didn’t want to, but I knew she was right.

Therapy wasn’t easy. I didn’t like opening up, and I felt awkward at first. But slowly, I started to understand what was going on in my head. I started to see that it’s okay to ask for help, and it’s okay to not be okay. My therapist helped me with small steps, like writing down my thoughts and not being so hard on myself.

I’m still not perfect. There are days when I feel down. But I’ve learned to reach out when I need to. I’ve learned that recovery isn’t a straight line, and that’s okay.

If you’re reading this and feeling like I did, just know you’re not alone. It’s tough, but it can get better. It’s a slow process, but talking to someone helps.