An Unrecognisable Reflection: Struggling with Identity Amid Depression

By Esther Gonzales 

Depression is like a dark cloud that follows you everywhere. Even on the days when the sun is shining brightly, its warm rays hitting you, the cloud is there. All the things that used to make you happy have slipped away, out of grasp. A smile is hard to find. You look around at your friends, who laugh so easily, and you wonder why it’s hard for you even to fake a smile. It takes too much energy. 

Navigating depression is hard when so many people tell you their own opinions. “You should have a better diet,” they say, “Just get over it,” or “It’s all in your head.” These thoughts run around in your mind like a rollercoaster at full speed. The twists and turns of what depression tries to make you believe leave you nauseated. 

That’s how it was for me. 

Growing up, I always had a deep sadness; I always thought something was wrong with me. Part of it was caused by the constant arguing between my parents, which made me feel upset and isolated. I wanted to talk to someone about it all, but I didn’t know how because I had this weight on my shoulders of ‘making our family look good’ to the outside world. On the inside, I felt like I was falling apart. I also felt like a hypocrite because at school I was the happy, bubbly girl who always had a smile. I tried to ignore the sadness, but it was always hanging over me. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of college that I discovered the word for what I was feeling: depression. 

The thing about depression is that it’s something that can stay with you, constantly under the surface. Or, depression can sneak up on you when you least expect it. Just when you finally find a way to live your life as a ‘normal’ person, it creeps up on you, paralysing your thoughts. It invades your mind, leaving no room for you in your own body. It makes it hard to describe what you feel because, at times, it chokes your voice and leaves you unable to say anything at all. You sit there, frozen, mind spinning. 

I often experienced this.  

When I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, part of me felt relief – at least now I knew there was a reason for the overload of feelings. But there was also a whole different battle that I was about to face. I could write a list of things people who were close to me said when I told them my diagnosis that would shock you. Things like, “Just get over it,” or “Stop being so sensitive.” They questioned why I chose to go to professionals and receive medication. They questioned why I needed to go to the doctor for the constant migraines I suffered through, which were a side-effect of depression. At first, I felt like I wasn’t worth helping because of the negativity and stigma surrounding what I was going through. I felt helpless, worthless, and like I had nowhere to turn. It was a struggle to learn not to let what others think affect me; I had to learn that my mental health journey is mine, not theirs. 

Depression took a lot of things from me. It took my energy, my ambition, my drive. Eventually, I stopped doing things I was passionate about, like teaching, writing, and reading. My books collected dust. My favourite pen was lost in the clutter. There were days that the simple things – getting out of bed, eating, taking a shower – seemed impossible. I felt like I lost myself in the thoughts and fog of it all. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the reflection of empty eyes that I didn’t recognise. My mind ran wild, and I didn’t know how to quiet it. I knew I didn’t want to believe what my thoughts kept telling me, and I tried to ‘be strong’ and ignore it like everyone kept telling me. But it is not always that easy.

I didn’t wake up one day to a clearer mind, the cloud of depression suddenly not immediately overhead. It took a long journey of remembering who I was despite depression to get there. It started when I asked myself: I once believed that I was worthy and loved, so why would that change now? At my lowest points, when I felt like there was no way out of the cloud’s shadow, I realised that there were so many people around me who truly want to help me. But I also had to realise that I was someone worth fighting for, that my hopes and dreams were worth fighting for too. 

My identity is not found in someone else’s words or view of me because that can always change. The very essence of who I am never changes. I am loved and worthy. When I looked in the mirror again, I knew that I wasn’t where I wanted to be, but that was okay. I was on my way there. I decided to fight for myself. To become the kind of person younger me would be proud of. 

I was not alone in my fight, and neither are you. You have come so far, and you are already so strong. Think back to all the mountains you have climbed, to every dark valley you have stumbled through successfully. You made it to the other side. Even if you are not there yet, trust when I say you can get there and that the sunrise is worth the wait. Your story is worth telling. You are so much more than what depression has made you believe. You are strong, resilient, beautiful, loved, worthy, and you have so much light to bring to others. 

It’s not about finding your identity amid depression; it’s about remembering who you have always been.