My Share of Losing
This is a post about mental health and depression.
I’ve been meaning to write it for at least a decade, and I think it’s best to start with some disclaimers on why it’s been so difficult to put into words.
First, I’m not a professional, and I’m not offering advice. I’m simply sharing my own experiences—how I struggle with mental health and how I often manage to overcome my challenges. If something I say resonates with you and seems helpful, feel free to apply it. If not, thank you for reading. This isn’t a generic post about mental health; it’s deeply personal and specific to my own journey. If you or someone you care about is suffering, please seek professional help. This writing won’t provide solutions, but at best, you may find some empathy here.
Second, these are personal stories. What I’m about to share is probably as personal as it gets. While personal posts are common online, few delve into the hardships and struggles of life in a raw way. I’ve made a conscious effort to keep everyone else in my life out of this post.
Third, writing this is not enjoyable. It’s heavy and full of potential pitfalls. When I’m feeling good, this task feels like a chore. When I’m feeling low, I don’t have the energy. Right now, I’m in a kind of “sweet spot”—fundamentally okay, but a little off balance, which is why I can write this now.
With those disclaimers out of the way, I want to describe my general state regarding depression. I have only experienced clinical depression (diagnosed by a professional) once in my life, back in late 2001, though I may have gone through smaller episodes since. I know myself well enough to say that depression is a chronic presence in my life. No matter the situation, I’m never far from slipping into an unhealthy state of mind. Yet despite this ever-present challenge, I’ve managed to live a happy and mentally healthy life. This post is about how I navigate that reality—how I look my inner demons in the eye and defeat them. Although I have gone through rough patches of major depressive disorder, I have never in my life been suicidal. If that is your case, please seek help now.
I have everything I need in life. I live in a great city, I have good savings, friends, a nice job, I travel a lot, eat great food every day, and I have an awesome education. I have no reason whatsoever to be sad or struggling. Yet that’s not what depression is about. Depression is an illness, just as the flu is an illness. The last five years have been really good for me—mostly positive, happy, productive, and mentally healthy. That’s not to say difficult things haven’t happened. Most notably, my dad passed away during that time, after a difficult illness, and I’ve had some other tough life events as well. Yet none of these knocked me off balance.
The first lesson I learned from my 2001 episode is “know yourself.” I learned that I will always live with depression, but I also learned to recognize the signs that something is wrong and to take action. Until then, my encounters with mental health had been minor and almost enjoyable, if anything. There were periods, perhaps like the one I’m in now, where I turned inward, reflected on myself, and sought solitude. As someone who normally prioritizes others’ needs over my own, during these periods I tend to focus on myself. They are times of change when I do new things I’ve never done before. This time around, I joined a gym, started eating better, cut out alcohol, and stopped seeing friends who weren’t good for me. I used to call these phases “periods of extraordinary intellectual adventure” because I would produce more interesting work than in “normal” periods. If you’re an artist, these are the times you fall in love, do crazy things, write your best poetry, or paint your most meaningful works. In small doses, these reflective periods can even be positive. But there lie the dragons—self-pity, pain, constant rumination, and low self-esteem. That path leads astray, to more pain, exhaustion, sleepless nights, and ultimately depression. This is the first time since 2001 that I’ve found myself in one of these periods, and I’m not scared because I know I’ll pull through.
Depression doesn’t need a reason, but when I look back, I can often identify a trigger. It’s always the same: something pushes me out of balance, and then I make mistakes that drive me deeper. Happiness feels like an unstable equilibrium. Since I know myself, I recognize the patterns. Right now, I made a mistake with a friend who isn’t able to forgive me, and there it is—the pattern: guilt and the loss of a friend. Everyone is different; I don’t lose balance because of a job loss, the death of a loved one, or a broken heart. I don’t get anxious about economic uncertainties. But guilt—guilt is a bitch. I feel guilty because I have more than others, guilty because I forgot to say goodbye. Everyone screws up sometimes, but when my mistakes involve others, that’s what pushes me over the edge. Losing a friend is another common trigger for me. Perhaps it’s change—I’m not very good with change.
Once I recognize the patterns that lead me to depression, I take action. The first thing I do is ask for help. Money isn’t an issue for me, so I seek professional help. Friends can help, but that can put them in a difficult position. I’ve made the mistake before of asking for what seemed like simple help from friends, but it actually put a strain on the relationship. I would start thinking they should help because I’d do it for them, which is a wrong cycle of thought. So, I don’t seek help from friends as much anymore; I talk to a professional. That’s part of what got me into my current situation—I asked for help from a friend instead of a therapist. I’m not saying this approach is for everyone. Therapy takes time and money, both of which can be problems in themselves. Pushing someone who doesn’t want therapy into it might not help either. Again, I’m just sharing what works for me, not offering advice. Even though I tend to isolate myself during these times, I force myself not to. I make myself go to bed at a decent time, whether I sleep or not. I eat three meals a day and exercise regularly.
The way I got better in 2001 was surprisingly simple: I joined the university spelunking group. It almost happened overnight—suddenly, I was the group’s secretary, I had friends who wanted to have lunch with me, and on Fridays, we’d drive to some remote, rainy forest in Venezuela to explore caves. The year 2000-2001 was by far the worst time of my life. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to talk about those days. But the next nine years were the best of my life. Perhaps only now, in 2024, am I approaching that level of happiness again. For me, joining a club or community helps. The trick is diversion—shifting focus.
The worst part, in my case, is the ruminative state of mind—thinking over and over, obsessing about something that happened. While I won’t go into full CBT mode, forcing myself to have better thoughts does help. Recognizing how incredibly lucky I am in life helps. It’s mind-blowing how lucky I’ve been. I’ve lived at least three different lives: a student in 1990s Spain, a physics and math professor in Venezuela, and a software engineer in Berlin. I have friends who are like siblings all over the world. I haven’t found lasting love yet, but I have been with women many men would die for. I’ve traveled, tasted all kinds of food, studied, read, and lived in peace—I’ve never looked up at the sky in fear of bombs. I force myself to focus on the positive. Yes, I’ve made mistakes, but after 50 years on this planet, I can only think of one person who’s slightly worse off because of me. The vast majority of people I’ve interacted with are better off, or at least I believe so. In some cases, in life-changing ways. Yes, I’ve lost friends, but I didn’t lose a friend until I was 39, and even now, I can still count the number of lost friendships on one hand. The overwhelming majority of friends I’ve made over the years are still fond of me. These thoughts are hard to maintain, but they help tremendously.
Another trick I learned during a likely depressive period in 2014 was to shift focus. Again, I hurt someone (notice the pattern), and despite my efforts to fix things, I made it worse. Then came the guilt. The only path forward was to accept that the situation couldn’t be repaired, but I couldn’t get past it—until I decided to help someone else in their name. That worked for me. Being a hopeless romantic, the thought that someone’s life improved because of the person I hurt gave me peace. In the same way that spelunking saved me in 2001, volunteering saved me in 2014. Again, it was about joining a community, doing something different. In the two worst periods of my life, that was the winning strategy.
Recovering from these periods that might lead to depression isn’t automatic. It can take a month or two, just like the flu takes a week to shake off. There are no magic bullets. But I’ll tell you something: I believe I will always find happiness. After half a century on this planet, I know myself well enough and believe I’m smart enough to overcome depression. This is my experience—it doesn’t have to be yours. My episodes of depression might be mild compared to others’. As I’ve said, I’ve never been suicidal, but I have been in pretty bad shape. I can tell you not just about the worst time of my life, but the exact worst day: October 12, 2001, Mexico City—waking up in a hospital bed with no passport or money, not knowing how I got there. I remember thinking, “I could die from this.”
Although I’ve shared my own experiences, I’ve also seen a lot of people living with depression—some in a permanent state. I don’t think my solutions apply to them. Some are too far gone, others need to solve specific problems in their lives. Their experiences are so different from mine that I can’t help them. Once again, I don’t intend to give advice. If something resonates with you and you think it can help, go for it. If not, we’re just different people.
If you are suffering, please seek professional help.