Here's what I learnt (and had to unlearn) about depression

Coming to terms with my diagnosis was a bit jarring, to say the least. Anxiety, I sort of get. I don’t think anyone can live in the 21st century without SOME form of anxiety. But depression? That didn’t seem like an issue I thought I would face.

While the uncontrollable crying was a clear sign for most, to me I thought I was just “burnt out” (thanks WebMD lol).

Life also just sort of felt hopeless and bleak. Sure, there was some sadness, but it wasn’t overwhelmingly so that I was completely isolated from my support system or saw no point in living.

I’ve been taught that depression was sadness and a loss of interest in the things you enjoyed. My experience was not that.

On some days, I didn’t even feel anything at all. A sort of numbness and emptiness took over and made me feel dead on the inside. Those days are the worst because part of you feels like you’ll never feel anything again.

And one of the worst symptoms of all? Brain fog. I could barely think straight. Suddenly the things at work that only took me two hours to do required a week. I felt useless in creative brainstorming sessions which sent my imposter syndrome into overdrive. I considered myself creative, having spent years creating content as a writer, stylist, producer and editor, so when I lost that ability to think, this caused me to go into a panic.

I had also started to restrict my food intake, somehow equating weight loss as some sort of fitness goal and a badge of honour on my mental health struggles. I would take comfort in the hunger pangs and the weird gnawing I felt in my stomach, silently competing with myself to see how long I could go without eating.

I’ve never had issues with food before, but it turns out my body was the only place left in my life where I felt some semblance of control.

I never really understood the phrase “healing isn’t linear” until I embarked on this path of healing and self-discovery. Sure, I saw the cute infographics on Instagram, saved a couple of videos on Youtube and binged-listened to podcasts by famed psychotherapists like Esther Perel and Lori Gottlieb, but never realised how true it was until I experienced it on my own.

About eight months into my healing journey, I suddenly felt this wave of depression engulf me. I had made two careless, back-to-back blunders at work, and suddenly in my mind I was “the worst person ever”. The first mistake was a blow to my ego, but I had enough humility to take it on the chin.

“These things happen,” I told myself, and it was a good reminder to keep myself sharp and be careful with my work. But somehow when the second one happened a few days later, it compounded into an extreme feeling of unworthiness and this overwhelming heaviness that I couldn’t shake off.

I was so proud of my journey thus far, so this “setback” wasn't something I had expected. I could hear the negative thoughts creep in, my inner critic chastising me for “failing” to heal as I had expected. I thought I had done everything right — I had a great life, I was consistently going to therapy, acknowledging my emotions and practising compassion on myself. I didn’t even have any huge stressors, so how dare I continue to stay depressed?

While it couldn’t stop the depressive episode from happening, I now had the awareness to understand what was going on and could utilise the tools I had picked up to mitigate my symptoms. I forced myself to honour an invitation to a performance art piece even though I was tempted to cancel, went for a walk, attended a boxing class, and most importantly, decompressed by talking to my friends. Basically, all the self-care things you’re supposed to do when you’re in a slump, and I did all of that while crying simultaneously. On the train, in my fitness class, over dinner with my best friend at a really nice restaurant… you name it, I was an awkward, sobbing mess.

And you know what, the feelings did eventually pass, and I did feel much better after that. It wasn’t because I didn’t have healthy coping skills, sometimes things just get too overwhelming and it can be hard not to return back to your old habits. And in my case, the expectation to heal as quickly as possible, and the need to show everyone, and even myself, that I’m “ok”.

Just because you leaned into some old habits, it doesn’t disregard any of the progress you’ve made. When faced with challenges and obstacles that might overwhelm us, it’s perfectly normal to turn to the unhealthy coping mechanisms that once kept us safe.

Humans are strange creatures. As much as we crave novel experiences to keep life exciting (at least this human does!), familiarity is the thing that we ultimately return to — even if it works against us. Just look at how long we cling to unhealthy relationships/patterns or even repeat the same dynamic with different people, I’m guilty of that too. 

But this doesn't mean you have to start from scratch again. The difference is, back then you utilised those coping tools out of survival, as you probably weren't in the right environment or had the right support to manage your emotions in a healthy way. And those things worked… until they didn't, but at least now you have newer, shinier, and healthier tools that you can try to use to help you deal with things. And these tools aren’t going to be locked in unless you choose to incorporate them into your life by constantly practising them.

There are some days when I wake up in my apartment and I feel so grateful for all the opportunities that life has to offer. Then there are the days when I’m happily cruising along, and then my brain decides to remind me of a painful memory and I feel a tightness in my chest that’s hard to describe.

Anger bubbles up, and I can feel myself boiling with rage, first at the memories, and then second at myself for not achieving apathy towards some issues in my life I had already expected to “get over”.

Negative emotions are tough to deal with. I didn’t even realise I never dealt with them because I took the ability to get over something quickly as fast processing speed, not realising that all I did was bury them deeper until they engulfed me.

So sit with it, have the relapse, and cry yourself to sleep. Feel bad for a while and reflect, and then later do whatever it takes to make yourself feel better. I promise you the bad feelings and thoughts will eventually go away, and you’ll feel better about allowing yourself to wallow in them.

What I’ve come to understand is that recalling a painful memory doesn’t mean that I’m not “over it”. It just means that I’m still processing and reflecting on things, trying to see where it went wrong. And as my own psychologist taught me, sometimes these thoughts are just that — thoughts. You can choose to engage with the thought or let it pass by.

Contrary to what they say, life isn’t short. In fact, it’s very, very f*cking long, and some days you’ll just want it all to speed along and get to the part where you’ll finally feel at peace.

I don’t know if I have the confidence to say I’m fully healed just yet. Going through several depressive episodes this year has taught me that life can still knock you down even if you think you’re getting better.

But I do know this: with every day that passes, I’m starting to feel 1% more of myself, and the days are starting to get easier. And that is what healing looks like to me and I’m fine with that for now.