Last year, our RV travels, which were a source of joy and freedom, suddenly ended due to the loss of my consulting work and the damage to our RV that we couldn’t afford to repair. These events, coupled with the sudden passing of my grandfather and the loss of our eldest dog, created a perfect storm of emotional turmoil.

With all that happened in such a short period, I was carrying a heavy emotional burden, struggling to be okay… but it seemed as if the people around me had no idea how ‘not okay‘ I was.

I was drowning in a sea of grief, anxiety, and uncertainty, and the feeling of not being seen or understood by those around me was devastating.

It was like I was invisible, my struggles unnoticed and unacknowledged.

The agony of hitting rock bottom, of being at my mental worst once again, while feeling unseen and misunderstood by those around me, was a uniquely intense and isolating experience.

The feeling of being misunderstood and not being able to effectively communicate the depth of my struggles was nearly as painful as the struggles themselves.

After years of rebuilding from the last time I hit rock bottom (8 years prior, just before my 30th birthday, and finally being diagnosed Autistic), I found myself slipping back into darkness.

It was like watching a train derail in slow motion, yet being unable to do anything about it.

CONTENT WARNING: This piece includes themes of mental health crisis, suicidal ideation, and behaviorism. Reader discretion is advised.

Last year was, without a doubt, one of the most challenging years of my life.

Last year, for the first time in 8 years, I found myself in a place where life seemed devoid of joy and purpose. It felt as if there was nothing left in the world that was worth ‘sticking around for.’

Last year, stuck in a deep depression, nothing I did felt fun or could bring me joy.

I didn’t know what I liked or wanted to do anymore, and everything I’d been doing up to that point in my life (that used to give me purpose) felt meaningless and trivial. This was compounded by the fact that I also started to feel as if the people in my life would be better off without me.

Reaching out when in a deep depression is hard.

We often encourage one another to “reach out” and “ask for help,” but whenever I find myself lost in darkness, reaching out and asking for help never seems possible.

While I understand logically that “it’s okay to ask for help” (and that it’s one of the bravest things a person can do when they’re struggling), in those moments, it feels like my very existence is a burden on the world, and by extension, my asking for help would be a burden on anyone I ask.

In addition, as my mindset changed, to a negative outlook on the world (because I could no longer see or find joy in anything), people avoided and/or scolded me for “my negativity“, pointing out that I “was regressing” or “knew better” and that they “didn’t want to be around such a negative person“.