“I Pretended to Be Okay Until My Mental Health Collapsed”

I remember the day everything started to fall apart—not with a bang, but with a whisper.

I sat at my desk, staring at my laptop screen without understanding. Emails were piled up over and over again, but my brain refused to cooperate. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for my coffee, but even the bitter taste couldn’t wake me up. I always told everyone, something grabbed inside, but "I'm fine."

That morning, I smiled at the staff, cracked a joke and said yes to every request. No one suspected the storm was brewing behind my eyes.

But when the world settled down, the masks came off.

I tumbled into the corner of the bed. The room was completely dark, except for the faint glow of my phone. Tears tumbled quietly on my cheeks as I fought to stick together. I felt totally alone - a mind that was integrated into a body that refused to rest, a mind that never stopped running, and a mind that drowned from fatigue.

For months, I ignored the throbbing headache in front of the fog and did what I asked to swallow the firm knot in my chest. I told myself I was tired, stressed, and I only needed a break. But I knew there was more.

My mental health has collapsed.

I tried to keep the photos. Someone who never shows weaknesses. But strength does not mean hiding the pain. Strength means facing him.

I remember clearly one day. I was eating family food, laughing, and sharing stories. But I shattered inside. My chest was so tight it was hard to breathe. I apologized to the bathroom and stared at my remorse. My eyes looked tired and empty. I whispered: "How long can I continue?"

That moment was a turning point. I realized the pressure I put on myself to 'be okay' had become a trap.

It was not easy to admit that I had problems. I spent so much time trying to get to rock for everyone else, so trying to ask for help felt like a failure. But that night, I sent a message to my best friend. I told them everything - fatigue, fear, loneliness.

Your answer surprised me. They either didn't judge me, or I said, "I'll just get through it." Instead, they really listened. This simple act of hearing gave me the courage to take the next step.

I found a therapist who helped me untangle the chaotic mess inside my head. The treatment was not a magical modification. A few days were worse than others. I had to be exposed to painful memories, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and deeply ingrained fear of vulnerability.

But slowly, I learned to be friendly to myself. Instead of ignoring them, I learned to rest, say no and listen to my needs.

Healing does not occur overnight. It was confusing, slow and sometimes scary. One day, I gave up and wanted to try again. But every little step of the default was a victory.

I began celebrating a small victory: getting out of bed, calling friends, breathing deeply without panic.

We also discovered the importance of the community. Talking openly about mental health to friends and family has helped to reduce quiet stigma for a long time.

If you’re reading this and carrying a heavy burden, know this: You are not alone. It's fine even if it falls apart. It's okay to ask for help. And the strongest thing you can do is to be honest with yourself.

On the map:

Hard Tour, losing weight is the beginning of real strength, as you've learned that it's the most difficult mask.

If I can tell one thing about my youth, then this is what it is: Their feelings are effective. Your pain is real. And you don't have to wear it alone.