When I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety, I was in denial. Like most people, it felt like it was an official confirmation that I was a “crazy” person. It reconfirmed that what others said to me was true. I felt worthless.

Even though I was referred to professional support, I didn’t take it seriously. I thought, why should I? At first, I would still try to be cooperative by attending sessions and taking medication. Soon after, I would disappear from my sessions and even stop my medication without my doctor’s advice. The above is a snapshot of the first half of my mental health journey.

My escapism slowly worsened my mental well-being. I continued to experience symptoms such as shaky hands, insomnia, loss of appetite, significant weight loss and many more. It became apparent that I started having trouble doing normal day-to-day activities. Everything felt like a boomerang that reminded me that I was an unhelpful individual who only brought others problems. “Perhaps it might be better for me to vanish from this world.” – a thought that eventually turned into action.

I was sent to the hospital. I refused to eat, see visitors or even get out of bed. One day, an old lady who was also a patient came to my bedside. She said, “Get up, eat your meals and behave. They (the nurses) are all watching. Fix any problems you are dealing with when you are out of here. Your primary goal for now is to get out of this ward. You are not like us. We have all been back numerous times. You are so young, and you can start over again. Once you get out, don’t come back”. Her words pierced my heart. I started to see many versions of myself from the patients in my ward. I can’t help but wonder, “Do I want to become one of them? Or, if I could, can I create my own story?”

My experience proved that changing perspectives changed my experience. I was fortunate to have met two therapists I could trust. They have shown genuine care to me. I started enjoying my sessions and taking medications more regularly. My dad, who was in denial of my mental health challenges, has also begun to change his attitude. When we walked on a weekend evening, he said, “It was my first time being someone’s parent. If you feel comfortable, you can always share your struggle with me. Let’s learn together.” His words brought me to tears. For the first time in six years, I felt I had every ingredient I needed to recover. I am now recovered and have gotten off all medications.

To me, recovery has more context than being free from professional support. While we are all humans and are vulnerable to experiencing emotions, I have built a coping mechanism and support system to handle my mental health challenges. I am grateful for all the blessings I have encountered on this journey.