Seeking Help for Depression

It wasn’t until my twenties that I decided to seek help for my depression. The loss of my Grandfather was a turning point, making it clear that I could no longer manage on my own. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor and began the difficult process of finding the right medication. This journey was challenging; it took time to discover something that worked for me. Eventually, although the medicine helped alleviate the worst symptoms, I started to feel numb. When that happened, I approached my doctor about discontinuing the medication. For a while, I felt okay—there were minor issues, but they weren’t as severe as before. In fact, I was relieved to feel something again instead of nothing at all.

The Search for Relief

As time passed, I started experiencing more down days than up. I found myself repeating the cycle: consulting my doctor, but this time, I wanted to try therapy. Beginning therapy meant finding a stranger I could confide in, which was difficult for me, especially since I also struggle with anxiety. Talking to someone new did not come easily, but that’s a story for another time. Unfortunately, therapy did not provide the relief I hoped for, so I returned to medication. Once again, the medication left me feeling emotionally numb, prompting me to consider other coping strategies. I immersed myself in hobbies, kept a journal, wrote poetry—anything to escape the confines of my own mind.

Loss and Coping Through Action

Then, my grandma passed away. Unsure if I could cope without support, I focused on being there for my children and my mom. Pouring myself into caring for them and helping them through their grief kept my mind off my own pain. Weeks later, I found myself back in the routine of focusing on anything but myself. Reflecting as I write this, I now realize that this was the moment I began to stop grieving. I always thought it came later, but looking back, I see that this is where it started. Sometimes, revisiting the past reveals truths about our journeys that we didn’t see before.

Compounding Grief and Numbness

A few years after my grandma passed, my family lost two more members. Days later, my other grandma passed away. At the time, I thought this was when I stopped grieving. Having just lost two family members, I was suddenly responsible for much of the funeral planning for my grandma. I didn’t allow myself to grieve; instead, I focused on the tasks at hand. To get through the losses, I shut off my emotions and went numb. Although I cried many times, I never truly processed the magnitude of the losses that occurred so close together.

Breaking Point and Continued Struggles

Almost a year later, I reached my breaking point when I lost two cousins—one younger, one two years older—both much more than just cousins; they were my best friends, parts of me. These deaths shook me deeply. I couldn’t shut off my emotions, couldn’t numb myself, or escape my own thoughts. I knew I needed help and forced myself to seek it because I couldn’t manage alone. I made countless trips to my doctor, searching for a medication that could help. When we found medicine that supported my emotional well-being, it often caused physical side effects. Even now, years later, I am still searching for something that works.

I returned to therapy, and to be completely honest, most sessions I attended in pajamas or sweatpants with messy hair. To this day, I couldn’t describe what my therapist looked like because I kept my eyes fixed on the floor or the walls, tears streaming down my face. Eventually, I reached a point where I could no longer force myself to attend therapy, so I stopped. I continued seeing my doctor and trying different medications, but even those appointments became difficult. I frequently rescheduled, using excuses like “I’m sick,” “my tire is flat,” or “my car won’t start”—anything that would allow me to postpone until I felt ready. The problem is, you can’t predict how you’ll feel on the day of the appointment, so the cycle repeated. Now, I find myself debating each time: do I force myself to go, or do I reschedule again? Sometimes, I check my medicine to see if I can wait another month. My doctor also manages my anxiety, blood pressure, and other medications.

The Mask of Normalcy

Even on days I force myself to go, the entire drive is filled with thoughts of turning around. I often sit in the parking lot, telling myself, “There are a lot of cars here, maybe I should just leave,” or “You can do this, go in, get it over with, and then you can shut off the world for another month.” I take a deep breath, put on a fake smile, and push myself inside. Over time, I’ve become adept at pretending I’m okay and happy so others won’t notice the truth. I can produce a perfect smile at a moment’s notice, a skill I’ve mastered over the years. But as I get older, maintaining this façade has become exhausting. I no longer have the energy or willpower to fake it as much. Even messaging and hiding behind a screen feels too draining. I respond to family and friends less often, and they see through the “I’m fine, how are you?” Small talk and fake laughs require energy I simply do not have right now.

Silent Struggles

These are the silent cries behind smiling eyes—a daily effort to appear okay while battling the weight of grief, depression, and anxiety beneath the surface.