The Light After the Storm

Life is not a straight line; it is a winding road with unexpected curves, steep climbs, and abrupt dumps. For three years, I drifted through a fog so dense that I forgot what sunlight felt like. Depression was more than just melancholy; it was a continuous companion who told me things such, "You're worthless. Nothing matters. "You will never be happy again."

However, this is not just a story about breaking apart. It's about how I learnt to piece myself back together—painfully—and found a life more calm and meaningful than I could have imagined.

The Descent Into Darkness

It started subtly. I stopped wanting to meet my buddies for coffee. My favorite pastimes accumulated dust. I'd stare at my ceiling for hours, paralyzed by a weight I couldn't describe. What is the worst part? From the outside, my life appeared to be going well: good career, loving family, and a comfortable home. But within, I was drowning.

I tried all of the simple fixes.

1. Forced smiles in the mirror.
2. Continuously reading through "good vibes" posts.
3. Pretending I was simply "going through a phase."

But the darkness only became thicker.

The Turning Point

Everything changed on an ordinary Tuesday. I missed my niece's birthday celebration because I was unable to get out of bed—again. Something snapped inside me as I listened to her message ("Auntie, I made you a cupcake! "). Not in a harmful way, but in the same way that a seed must break open before it can grow.

That day, I performed three things to save my life:

I called a therapist (after hanging up twice first)

Texted a pal, "I am not alright."

Purchased a notepad to write my thoughts in.

The Climb Back to Light

Recovery was not dramatic. It happens in little, daily choices.

• The Five Minute Rule

On terrible days, I committed to simply five minutes of self-care:

- Enjoying tea outside

- Committing to a single song

- Writing three successful pieces.

Some days, that was all I could do. And it was enough.

• Rewire My Brain

My therapist taught me to redirect negative thoughts, such as "I'm a failure" to "I'm having a hard time" or "Nothing will help" to "I haven't found what helps yet."

• Finding my anchors

During the storm, I found comfort in the smell of ancient books in the library.

- Hands in garden soil

- Dog napping on my feet.

The Surprising Gifts of Darkness

In retrospect, depression taught me something that "normal" life never could:

• Depth over Perfection

I used to fantasize of having the perfect life. Now I enjoy imperfect moments, such as burnt toast on Sunday mornings, inside jokes with my sister, and the sound of rain on my apartment roof.

• True connection

When I stopped pretending to be fine, genuine relationships bloomed. My "me too" friend group meets every Thursday; we laugh, cry, and always understand.

• The Power Of Small Things

A solitary dandelion grows through concrete. The way my neighbor waves as I take out the trash. These fleeting experiences laid the groundwork for my future.

Life After the Storm

Today, I don't discover serenity; I practice it. Here are some tools that help me maintain it:

The "Good Enough" Standard: I strive for "functioning" rather than "flawless."

Nature as Medicine: I take daily walks, even if they are only around the block.

Creative Expression: I express myself through bad poems and art.

Routine with Flexibility: While structure is beneficial, I allow myself to deviate.

The darkness still comes, but I know it's not permanent. I've learnt to sit with my discomfort until it passes, much like waiting out a storm.

If You're in the Fog Right Now

Begin with a lower scale than you believe is necessary.

- Drink water

- Open windows.

- Text one person.

You don't have to believe it will get better; simply take one small step. The light will find you.