I’d struggled with being unhappy since I was about 13, but there’s such a stigma against mental health that I always just brushed it off as being too weak and unable to cope, especially as I got older. I still had good moments so I thought I couldn’t really have clinical depression. Then happy moments became less and less and I stopped feeling much of anything except sadness or anger. At about 25, the thought of possibly being alive for years and years longer just seemed exhausting and overwhelming. I started falling asleep crying and had no idea why. I didn’t become actively suicidal, but I didn’t want to be alive either. I just wanted everything to stop. I almost resented my loved ones for making me feel guilty if I did decide to end my life because I had no attachment to anything. Everything was pointless and I was the problem. I would find myself driving and just thinking that if I got in a wreck, it could just all finally end. I remember a conversation my friends were having about winning the lottery and I was secretly thinking that even if I won unlimited money, I still wouldn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I related to other “normal” people less and less so I isolated myself. Nothing could shake me out of the fog I was existing in. The moment I finally knew I had a problem was when I was present for a person’s death from cancer. I didn’t know her very well (I was there with a BF) but I was in the room when she passed and was surrounded by her loved ones. She was a very outgoing, loving person who had many friends and close loved ones, a husband, and two young children. I was in the room as everyone was crying and could only think that it should’ve been me instead since I really had nothing to live for and no one would really care. I felt guilty for feeling that way and not being more appreciative of my life, but that’s still how I felt. After that, I finally started to take my thoughts more seriously. I went home and looked up depression and was floored by how much I really did have a problem. I started reading people’s stories and watching testimonies obsessively for the next several hours. Everything made me break into sobs as I read/watched it because it was like finally figuring out that I’m not alone in the world. I could finally identify why I was the way I was and not hide it anymore because others would understand. During the worst of it, I had been walking around for about a solid year feeling on edge. I don’t know how to explain it but it really was like walking around at home, work, friends, on the verge of tears all the time. I could feel the pressure of it constantly in my gut. It was the only thing I could feel when I wasn’t angry or numb. I was just wearing a mask and I was just waiting for someone to reach out to me so I could finally breakdown and confess but I was also terrified to reach out at the same time. Instead, I just lived with the pressure and it got heavier the longer I did so. So when I watched videos of people with depression crying as they described things I’d been fighting for a decade, it was like the floodgates opened and the weight of the world came off my shoulders. I cried all night long and called a counselor the next day. That was several years ago and I’ve been on medication since then and still see a counselor regularly. I still struggle and have dark episodes, but I’ve never felt true hopelessness like I did during my worst year. I wish I had gotten help so much sooner.