Living with Chronic Depression: My Struggle, The Reality, and Finding Hope

Chronic depression isn’t just sadness—it’s a lifelong battle, an exhausting weight that never quite lifts. It’s waking up every morning already exhausted, feeling like you’ve run a marathon before even getting out of bed. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been depressed. It’s my normal, my default state of being, and that makes healing incredibly difficult. When something has been a part of your identity for so long, letting it go feels almost impossible.

The idea of happiness feels foreign, even terrifying. I don’t know what life without this weight would feel like, and part of me is scared to find out. Depression is a known enemy—it’s cruel and relentless, but it’s predictable. Happiness, on the other hand, is an unknown. What if I get better, only to crash back down? What if I start to believe in good things, only to have them ripped away? When you’ve lived in agony for so long, it becomes comfortable—familiar. The unknown of happiness feels risky, and deep down, a part of me wonders if I even deserve it.

I tell myself that happiness is for other people, not for me. I convince myself that if I just stay where I am—if I just endure—I won’t have to face the pain of loss or disappointment. I’ve been stuck in this cycle for so long that the idea of breaking free feels almost as scary as staying trapped.

What Is Chronic Depression?

Chronic depression, also known as persistent depressive disorder (PDD), is a long-term form of depression that lasts for years, sometimes a lifetime. Unlike episodic depression, which comes in waves, chronic depression lingers, weighing on every aspect of life. It’s not just feeling sad—it’s a legitimate medical condition caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. Depression affects thought patterns, decision-making, physical health, and the ability to experience joy.

The Reality of Living with Chronic Depression

Every morning, I wake up and think, “F, I didn’t die last night. How do I make it through another day?”* It’s not that I necessarily want to die, but the idea of existing like this forever is unbearable. Suicidal ideation is a daily battle—not because I want to hurt anyone, but because the thought of not existing anymore brings a sense of relief and calm. It’s like staring at an endless road, knowing that no matter how far I walk, the weight on my shoulders will never lighten. The exhaustion, the dread, the feeling of being trapped in my own mind—it’s relentless. I wish I could turn it off, but instead, I wake up every day to the same suffocating cycle, over and over again.

There are days when just opening my eyes feels like too much. The thought of getting out of bed, of pretending to be okay, of forcing myself through the motions—it all feels insurmountable. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling my heart pound heavily in my chest, not from excitement or anticipation, but from sheer dread of the day ahead. Even the smallest tasks—brushing my teeth, drinking a glass of water, sending a text message—feel monumental. It’s like trying to move through quicksand; the harder I try, the more exhausted I become.

People often say, “Just be happy” or “Think positive”—as if it’s a simple switch I can flip. Trust me, if it were that easy, I would have done it a long time ago. Depression isn’t just an emotion; it’s an illness that rewires the brain. My body and mind have adapted to this state, and breaking free from it feels impossible. Some days, even getting out of bed feels like a victory, and other days, I can’t even find the strength to try. The longer this battle continues, the more normal it becomes. Sometimes, I wonder if I even remember what it feels like to experience genuine joy, not just fleeting moments of distraction or numbness. The idea of healing is terrifying—not because I don’t want to feel better, but because I’ve lived in this darkness for so long that I don’t know who I am without it.

The fear of hope is real. What if I reach for happiness, only to have it ripped away? What if I allow myself to feel, only to be disappointed again? Depression is predictable, consistent in its cruelty, and there’s a twisted sense of comfort in that. Happiness, on the other hand, feels unstable, like something I could lose at any moment. And that fear keeps me stuck, keeps me choosing the pain I know over the hope that feels too risky.

Depression in Men: The Silent Struggle

Men face unique challenges when it comes to depression. Society conditions us to be “strong,” to suppress our emotions, and to push through pain in silence. This outdated mindset often prevents men from recognizing their own struggles and seeking the help they need. But the reality is:

✅ 1 in 8 men will experience depression in their lifetime.
✅ Men are significantly less likely to seek treatment than women.
✅ Suicide rates among men are alarmingly high, often because they don’t feel safe expressing their emotions or asking for help.
✅ Depression in men doesn’t always look like sadness. It often appears as anger, irritability, reckless behavior, substance abuse, or extreme fatigue.

Too many men suffer in silence due to the stigma surrounding mental health. Fear of judgment, societal expectations, and lack of emotional support can make it feel impossible to reach out. But mental health matters, and no one should have to battle depression alone.

At Evolve Supply Co., we are committed to breaking the stigma. 20% of our profits go directly toward mental health initiatives, helping fund therapy and support for those in need. Because seeking help isn’t weakness—it’s strength.

 

The Physical and Mental Symptoms of Chronic Depression

Depression doesn’t just affect emotions—it takes a massive toll on the body.

Mental Symptoms:

• Persistent sadness, emptiness, or numbness
• Lack of motivation, even for basic tasks
• Low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness
• Suicidal thoughts or ideation
• Difficulty concentrating and making decisions
• Feeling disconnected from reality or like life is passing by in a fog

Physical Symptoms:

• Chronic fatigue and body aches
• Insomnia or excessive sleeping
• Headaches and muscle tension
• Unexplained weight changes (loss or gain)
• Weakened immune system, getting sick more often
• Loss of appetite or emotional eating

After years of battling depression, my body has shut down in many ways. Even getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain—each step, each movement, is exhausting, as if I’m carrying a weight that no one else can see. My limbs feel like they’re made of lead, my chest tightens with an invisible pressure, and my brain fogs over, making even simple tasks feel impossible.

Most Days, I want to lie there for hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to summon the energy to move, to engage with the world, but it feels like an impossible feat. The exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s mental, emotional, and even spiritual. My mind tells me that nothing matters, that no amount of effort will change anything, so why bother trying? The thought of facing another day, another set of challenges, another reminder of how empty and heavy everything feels—it’s overwhelming. I pace around all day trying to distract my brain from my thoughts and even that is exhausting. Existing is exhausting.

I try to explain this feeling to people, but unless you’ve lived it, it’s hard to understand. It’s not just being tired, it’s a complete depletion of energy and motivation, like my body is shutting down to protect itself from feeling too much. I go through the motions when I have to, forcing a smile, pretending to be present, but inside, I feel hollow. Even the things I used to love—music, art, conversation—now feel distant, like I’m watching life happen from the outside looking in. I rarely have the energy to do simple tasks which makes me even more depressed because I feel useless.

And when it gets really bad, I turn to self-harm. It’s not something I’m proud of, but in those moments, the physical pain feels easier to process than the emotional agony. The sting, the burn, the sharpness, the bruises and black eyes—it gives me something tangible to focus on, something I can control. It’s a temporary distraction, a way to justify feeling the weight of my depression in a way that makes sense to me. In those moments, I don’t have to think about the unbearable heaviness in my chest, the numbness that makes every interaction feel forced, the relentless voice in my head that tells me I’m not good enough. For a brief moment, I can breathe, I can feel, I can exist without the overwhelming flood of emotions pulling me under.

But the relief never lasts. The guilt, the shame, the realization that I’m only adding more scars—both physical and emotional—sets in. I want to break free from this cycle, but it’s hard when this pain is the only thing that feels real. The hardest part about depression isn’t just surviving each day—it’s convincing yourself that you deserve more than just survival.

Managing and Coping with Chronic Depression

There’s no quick fix for depression, but there are ways to manage it. Here are some things that have helped me:

• Therapy & Medication: Different forms of therapy (CBT, talk therapy, EMDR) have been helpful in identifying destructive thought patterns. Finding the right medication has also been a game-changer, but it’s a process of trial and error.
• Daily Structure: Having a routine, even if it’s just small tasks like brushing my teeth or making my bed, helps me maintain a sense of control.
• Expressing Emotions: Whether it’s through journaling, art, or music, finding a creative outlet can make a huge difference.
• Reaching Out for Help: Talking to friends and family—even when they don’t fully understand—reminds me that I’m not alone.
• Self-Compassion: I try to remind myself that my depression is not my fault. I am not lazy or weak—I am fighting an illness every day.
• Emergency Support: If things ever feel unbearable, I know I can call 9-8-8 for crisis support, or if it’s an emergency, I can go to the hospital.

The Importance of Talking About It

One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that talking about depression helps. The more we speak openly about mental health, the more we break the stigma and create a space where people feel safe seeking help.

If you’re struggling, please know that you’re not alone. Your pain is real, but so is hope. You are worthy of love, support, and healing. It’s not easy, and I won’t pretend it is—but I believe that even in the darkest moments, there’s a small flicker of light.\

Let’s keep the conversation going. Let’s fight for better mental health resources. Let’s remind each other that we are more than our depression. 💙

If you or someone you love is struggling, call 9-8-8 for crisis support. You deserve help, and you are not alone.

xo

Tyler