Stories of Hope

Living with depression and anxiety, compounded by a lithium deficiency, has taught me the intricacies of balancing mental health with everyday life.

My personal experience has shown that achieving a ‘work-life balance’ can be a challenging journey.

In 2021, just six months into my job and overwhelmed by depression and panic attacks, I decided to resign. Everyday activities became overwhelming, and my panic attacks were intense. I craved company but also felt like a burden when someone reached out.

Fortunately, my family has always encouraged me to focus on my well-being. My doctor and therapist have also guided me through the most difficult challenges, helping me find moments of depression relief amidst the struggle.

During this time, I got a cat. Just thinking of her would ground me, bringing me a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

In 2022, I returned to the workforce. While this was a turning point in my career, the role’s demands took a toll on my mental health. I pushed myself too hard, leading to burnout.

Despite this, I continued therapy and managed to stop taking my antidepressants. I also taught myself crocheting, which brought me peace.

After a year and a half in that job, I chose to leave and took a four-month break to recharge. This allowed me to focus on myself before stepping into my current role, where I’ve been for the past five months.

Now, I take each day at a steady pace, learning from past experiences and focusing on my goals without losing sight of my well-being.

This journey has taught me the importance of putting myself first. Every step, whether forwards or backwards, has contributed to making me stronger.

Surrounding myself with a supportive network—whether it’s family, friends, my pet, or professionals—has made all the difference.

Success doesn’t come from working yourself to exhaustion—it comes from understanding your limits and making space for your mental health in your daily life.

I started thinking about suicide when I was like 12-13. Being queer, I didn't think a future was even on the menu. I've also been extremely lazy and a serial procrastinator for most of my life. So, suicide was always a plan for "next year." 

I've come close, but never really followed through. And now a gazillion procrastinations later, I'm grateful I never did. 

Along the way, I started taking therapy and meds. So, of course, things got better. It was in no way a linear process. But more and more, unaliving myself seemed like a horrible idea, which is great because I'm not as lazy as I used to be and I'd like to use that energy to do something fun and not plan my death. 

It's a place in time you have to get to by yourself - I mean yes, with support and therapy and meds etc. - but ultimately it's the clarity that you conjure up yourself that makes these thoughts seem ridiculous. 

Until then, procrastinate.

As an adult, I suffer through severe anxiety and C-PTSD arising from severe childhood trauma related to abuse, neglect and abandonment. There have been several times while dealing with my mental health, I have felt extreme amounts of pain, panic attacks and dissociative episodes leading me to want to do something unimaginable - take it all away! 

Often the only thought that shadows over my head is the thought of killing myself and ending it all. When I try to think about it more I realise the ‘it’ I am talking about is an excruciating, unimaginable level of pain that feels like it will last forever. While growing up and suffering through constant abuse, there was one incident where my mother wanted to tie me up to a fan and kill me. My first attempt to die by suicide was by replicating the same act. I felt absolutely alone and unwanted in this world with and extreme amount of pain all over my body.

 I prepared for the final act as if I was taken over by this darkness and nothing else could reach me and shake me out of it …and as I was almost about to give in, a flash of so many other people standing in this same situation holding the rope came to my mind and I suddenly was consumed by this cosmic connection to strangers in the universe who might be going through this exact same feeling and almost about to take this exact same step! I instantly felt that I was not alone and that if I take this step today then I will not be able to do anything to help all these other people who feel similar to me, that they are not alone either! I stepped off that dining table with this thought and decided to continue working towards building communities, support groups and safe spaces where people can come together and share, finding some relief from these haunting feelings.

During college, I found myself in one of the toughest periods of my life. Personal challenges were piling up, and the ups and downs in my relationships only added to the weight I was carrying. Despite having studied psychology extensively, I didn’t recognize that I was struggling with my own mental health. It wasn’t until a particular class discussion on symptoms that my examples seemed concerning to my professor. She asked me to stay back after class, and when she gently asked how I was doing, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I broke down, overwhelmed and emotional, yet feeling supported for the first time in a long while.

Fast forward to one night, during a particularly bad spiral. I was alone on my balcony, lost in my thoughts, when I cut my wrist. I had been self-harming for a while, without really thinking much of it. But this time, the cut went too deep, and for the first time, I felt real fear. I still let it be for a while, until I couldn’t anymore. I approached my sister, crying, telling her that I had messed up. She bandaged me up and cared for me. Thankfully, the cut wasn’t as severe as I had feared, but the scare was enough to wake me up. Seeing the concern in my sister’s eyes hit me harder than anything before.

That was the moment I knew I needed help. I sought it, even though I was weighed down by guilt for putting my sister through that. Slowly, I began working through the pain and the spirals, and seeking help became the best decision I ever made. I eventually went on medication, and it saved my life. Today, I can look back and see how far I’ve come—and that’s a testament to the power of reaching out, seeking help, and choosing to live.

Now, when these thoughts resurface, I take a deep breath and remind myself of the people who love and support me and that includes my cats. I take a minute to remind myself how far I have come in my journey.”

The exact moment when these thoughts of wanting to disappear began is hazy, but I recall feeling overwhelmed by the smallest setbacks. Every misstep, every inconvenience, I internalized as my fault. Conversations that should have been shared with others became internal battles, and my desire to avoid causing pain to others usually led to causing pain to myself.

Alone with my thoughts, my once-safe home felt increasingly hostile. As these feelings persisted and got stronger, I realized I couldn't manage them alone and finally reached out to the people around me.

I've come a long way since those darkest days. The journey has been challenging, but it has also taught me resilience and self-compassion. By acknowledging my struggles and seeking support, I've found strength where fear once resided. 

There was a time when I couldn’t see beyond the darkness, and everything felt overwhelmingly heavy. I was dealing with multiple health scares that left me feeling like a burden to those around me. I questioned the point of living a life where someone would need to look after me all the time. The pain felt unbearable, and I thought about ending it all.

But then, I realized that taking such a step wouldn’t truly solve my problems. It might have taken away my pain, but it would have only transferred it to the people I loved—my partner, friends, and family. I didn’t want them to carry that weight.

The turning point came when I decided to open up to my partner. For the first time, I allowed myself to be completely vulnerable and honest about my struggles. That moment of openness wasn’t easy, but it gave me clarity and a glimmer of hope. Slowly, things started to make sense.

With time, the weight I was carrying began to lift. While the journey hasn’t been without its challenges, I’m grateful I stayed. Reaching out, being honest, and letting someone in helped me see that even in the darkest times, there’s a way forward. Things got better, and now I can look back and feel thankful for the decision to keep going.

I am from Russia, and I have been suffering from acute depression and suicidal ideation since March 2020. It all began with a loss of interest in activities I like, such as cycling and teaching English to my son (a Russian citizen), as well as a lack of energy and exhaustion. I disregarded these symptoms, assuming they would go away with time, but they worsened as the days went, and a year later I was diagnosed with major depressive illness.

I was prescribed a slew of antidepressants, which made me feel marginally better, but not enough. In September 2021, my depression with ADHD and PTSD worsened to the point where I decided to end my life. I took more than 25 sleeping pills in the hopes of sleeping forever, but I survived. I was taken to the hospital and spent roughly two days under the watchful supervision of doctors. This was by far the lowest period of my life, and all I wanted to do was end the dreadful feeling.

In 2023, I returned to India and quickly fell in love with the country again. (I was born in Mumbai.) I began enjoying my hobbies of cycling, trainspotting (I am a railway enthusiast who adores Indian railways), and travelling by train throughout India. It made me feel a lot better. I'm not completely out of depression, but I’m on the path of healing from depression and feeling a lot better.

I want to emphasize that it is quite possible to recover from any mental disorder. Just go out, travel, chat with people, and smile at strangers on the street.

The mental health battle – it is not a story of surviving through having nothing in my hand instead it's the struggle of staying on the surface when the mind drowns in nothingness.   For some, it may seem trivial, but for this heart, it's been palpable. To be at the edge and then step back, was a fight of the mind over heart, but coming out, owning my life and looking back without regret, has become a journey worth defining.

Having lost my father and brother during my early teenage years, our family of four had now shrunk to two. The judging ecosystem compels the teenager to be the strong support system. We both mourned secretly but remained collected. I was told by a confidant, I never mourned enough. The harsh reality is that it's the tears you don't cry that drown you.  But like an insta reel, we move on to the next phase with a quick swipe but nothing is forgotten. 

Marriage, children or career highlights take precedence but as we were expecting our second child, there was an unexpected twist in our story. A medical error and a near death situation unveiled medical drama. There was uncertainty while being gripped with helplessness to not be able to mother my toddler and the newborn. Being plugged to the ventilator shook the family, but my limited mobility shook my core. The Doctors associated my struggle with mental issues with no sign of recovery. The unclear doctor consultations, the beeps in the operation theatres, the buzz of the many MRI's, the wailing patients in different facilities, the high doses of steroids, had my patience tested beyond my resilience. 

The fear in the eyes of my loved ones reminded me of my helplessness. The experience of having my two and half year old hold my hand in support and call for help, on seeing me collapse next to her, broke me to pieces. I was slated to be her anchor but my suffering had brought fear in her eyes. I wondered if I had already broken her before I could build her into a self-defining individual. I missed the opportunity to cherish the early memories with my new born. 

Standing on the 8th floor balcony, all I could envisage was feeling free while falling down. There was no fear, pain or hesitation, just truly liberating. The ‘escape’ repeated at every instance in the balcony. I was more disconnected, while appearing calm, but I was filled with rage. I would smile in pretence, but my heart cried with confusion. I needed the 'escape'. A chance slip on the stairs with my little one in hand, forced me to grab her and keep her safe from the fear she saw. I suddenly didn’t need that 'escape', instead a 'reset' to become the mother to my children again without losing myself to the unknown. I needed to start a conversation with myself. The power was within me, I just had to take back my life reins. Now the mind was finding its bearings, allopathy teased with no respite, but nature cure therapies eased gradually. The side effects of the medicines resulted in stumbling walks, a swollen face and body - visuals in this horror story with pitiful glances. With gradual self-started walks and paced runs, accomplishing a 5km milestone at a competition was a victory without words. 

In this turmoil, suicide seemed like the closest confidant. It's not because I was weak and selfish as most perceive it to be. It is the depth of the struggle that makes death look like a better option. Looking at it from my perspective, one would understand that accepting the problem, seeking professional guidance without judgement while being willing to make that reset. In this journey, I have seen my loved ones, holding me unconditionally. If there was sadness, this support was happiness. 

I am the high energy force that manoeuvres through life oscillating between madness and celebrating life. I often wonder if I have done enough to make everyone proud, but never fall short of love, friendship, dependability and being their anchor. I am now braver to smile, with an evolved perspective of life. I am strong, yet dependant on emotions.  I am a dreamer of relationships and I am a traveller by heart. I seize my ‘me’ time or travel free from any guilt whatsoever. I might appear selfish to some but these momentary pauses for self-care have more value than most imagine. Tears have kept me real and laughter has kept me high. The daily chaos, the unbearable losses, the painful rewind, the friendship that couldn't survive the time is all weaved into the tapestry of life. This fabric is strengthened by how I define myself every day. 

I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome at a young age and have faced a painful past of physical abuse and bullying. I was also diagnosed with a learning disability and all of this put together made me dread going to school everyday. I always wondered how I would be able to complete my education. However, even though I was a slow learner, I worked very hard and earned my graduation in commerce. After that, I worked odd jobs, coming from a lower-middle-class background where I was again ridiculed by bosses and colleagues, and my learning disability affected me. I was fired from various jobs due to poor performance as I was constantly compared with other colleagues. During COVID, the situation worsened further when I lost my grandfather, who was 92. This worsened my mental health, and I injured my hand at that time. I immediately realised that I needed help, and my parents took me to the psychiatrist. I started taking antidepressants in 2020, and now in 2023, although still on medication, I have been feeling great and have reduced the dosage to a very minimal amount. Now, I am a French teacher and recently got a job in a school where I teach classes 5th through 10th. It is unbelievable. These helplines provide a listening ear and are very supportive when you are in distress. My long-term goal is to work voluntarily with NGOs supporting Asperger's Syndrome.