Around the age of 16, my world started changing rapidly.

I was not feeling as happy and optimistic anymore as I previously did. At first, I thought it was just a phase that everyone around my age was going through and that it would pass as quickly as it came. But it didn’t.

I had a very hard time adjusting to my rapidly changing environment and handling the pressure that I felt was being put on me. Everyone was busy figuring out, or, already knew what they were going to study in the future. I, however, did not.

I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life. Not only that, but I had no direction whatsoever. I was a loose cannon. An unguided projectile.

Add in the fact that responsibility started to come around at that age, while I was still an immature and wild man at heart. I was too busy partying, drinking, and even frequently getting into fights.

It was not that I was a violent man, but I think the anxiety, negative emotions, overall feeling of helplessness, and sense of feeling lost in this world got to me. To the point of getting into physical confrontations with others. The physical confrontations were a reflection of my poor mental state and my troubled mind.

Then I turned 18. My parents told me it was time to start taking responsibility for my choices and actions because this time “it was for real”. I was told that the decisions I was about to make regarding what I was going to study were going to dictate my entire future.

Yet, I still had entirely no idea what I was going to study in college, nor what profession I wanted to pursue. I decided to go study nutrition and dietetics. Not because I necessarily had a desire to become a dietician, but rather because some people I knew well from my hometown were going to study this course. And I figured since I was always interested in physical exercise and health, this study might align well with that same line of thought.

Newsflash, it didn’t.

I quit school 2 months in. Turns out that choosing what course to study based on what your friends are studying rather than what you want to become in life is not the smartest idea. Who would’ve guessed, right? Most people thought I was a failure. That I couldn’t do it. Either because I couldn’t study and commit to something, or because I was not smart enough.

Some people straight up told me, while with some other people, I could see it in their eyes and how they struggled to phrase their words when talking to me. Yet, in my mind, I knew that I could do it. I knew that I was smart and dedicated enough to get a degree.

So the following year, I decided to go to school once more. This time, I was going to study occupational performance. Long story short, I managed to get my degree without having to redo any years and with virtually no trouble. Yet, school was still hellish for me. I dreaded the school environment. I missed my close friends from high school, with whom I had a very close bond. And my classmates in college were… well, different than me. I was never suited to just staying still and sitting on a stool for hours on end.

When I graduated from college and got a job as an occupational therapist in a physical rehabilitation center, things got a bit better. I took responsibility, I did my work as well as I could. I was motivated and helped people relearn lost skills to improve their overall quality of life.

During this time, I figured out how I could measure the state of my depression. If my depression worsened, I started feeling the need to drink. I think I felt this desire for alcohol because it was a way for me to self-medicate. But after years of working, my thoughts turned darker, more negative, and nihilistic again. I slept less, and my general sleep quality was extremely poor. Often not sleeping at all, or for just a few hours a night. I started withdrawing more and more from friends and family, often not replying to worried calls or text messages in the process.

Furthermore, I kept on plowing away at work until I couldn’t anymore. I was someone idealistic who above all else wanted fairness and justice in the workplace, but also in the world. Of course, that’s not always attainable, because the world just isn’t fair. What I didn’t realize at the time was that this excess sense of duty, perfectionism, and anxiety was eating away at my mental health. I was already head-deep into a severe depression without truly realizing it.

One day, I woke up and told my parents I couldn’t do this anymore. I was barely sleeping and when I did, it was for about 3 hours. I would wake up randomly and start crying, just because I felt so bad and was so exhausted. Moreover, I felt like I had nothing left in the tank, and I had no desire to do anything anymore. To be honest, I didn’t want to be here anymore. I just wanted it to be over. To fade away. So I took a step back and stayed home from work. I needed to take some time off to focus on myself. To get myself in order again before I ended up harming myself.

During that time off, I often stayed in bed. Sometimes I didn’t even bother to get up to eat or wash myself. There were times when this kind of behavior went on for days. I didn’t want to live like this anymore. This was hell on earth. Constantly being in mental pain. Surrounded by dark and negative thoughts from my waking moment until I fell asleep.

One day, when I managed to get out of bed and I and my parents were eating dinner, I saw what I was doing to my mother and father. They were silent, didn’t talk much anymore, and looked tired and sad. That’s when I decided. That’s it, no more. It was my guilt and feeling of sadness for what I had done, combined with my sense of duty, that fueled me to do something about this illness.

Up until now, I was only living for myself. Selfishly. Not participating and valuing what my parents, family, and other people did for me. So, something needed to be done. I needed to turn my life around. And with my life, my mentality.

I started going to a psychologist, taking antidepressants, and actively working on my weak points which were the very things I was afraid of and had been avoiding as a result. I once again started setting goals for myself. And even when I had zero arousal to do anything, or even no desire at all to come out of bed, I still did. I made sure I did something useful every day, no matter how small it was.

After a couple of months, my life became manageable again. Sometimes, I even started looking forward to the future again. I talked more and was less irritable, and as a consequence, my life and that of those around me improved as well.