The Depression Club

Trigger Warning: mentions suicide

The Club No One Signs Up For

Several years ago, I lost a former boss—Matthew.*

He wasn’t a close friend, but he was a kind and influential presence in my life. He helped me become a book editor, which had been my dream since eighth grade. He modeled strong, thoughtful leadership at a time when I was going through my own personal collapse.

I worked under him during one of the hardest seasons of my life. I had just called off a wedding and was in the thick of a depression so deep, I couldn’t comprehend how I was functioning. Work became a safe space. My team felt like family. And Matthew helped create that environment.

Then, he died by suicide.

The Grief That Catches You Off Guard

I hadn’t worked with Matthew in years, but when I learned of his death, it hit me hard—much harder than I expected. Because suddenly, I realized: We were in the same club.

The Depression Club.

The one where you know what it’s like to plan your own death.

Where you’ve written the letter to your family.

Where you’ve taken the first steps.

I’ve never fully attempted suicide, but I have been that low. I’ve felt the ache that makes you want to disappear and stop the pain. The weight that makes hope feel fictional.

And Then It Happened Again

Even recently—just a couple weeks ago—depression snuck back in. Out of nowhere. I cried myself to sleep every night for a week. I prayed for the pain to stop.

But this time? Something was different.

The Tools That Brought Me Back

I used meditation skills I’d learned from my coach. I sat with my emotions instead of running from them. I took small, gentle steps. And for the first time ever—I walked myself out of a depressive episode.

That moment was incredibly empowering. Because I realized:

• I am not powerless.

• My brain has changed.

• The work I’ve done has mattered.

And it continues to matter.

Living With Depression, Not Under It

Sometimes I forget that healing isn’t a straight line. Even though I haven’t been suicidal in years, depression still visits. But now, I have more tools. I have support. I have hope.

And I have a voice that can speak clearly, even in the dark.

A Quick Practice

What’s one small step you can take today to care for your mental health?

Is it scheduling a therapy session? Getting some sunlight? Taking a mindful walk or just texting a friend to say “I’m struggling”?

Pick the next smallest step. You don’t have to climb the mountain—just take one breath at a time.

Reflection

When was a time you survived something quietly? Something no one else knew was hard for you? What did it take to keep going—and what might you need now to feel supported, seen, or safe?

My 38th Birthday: On Showing Up, Piñatas, and Unexpected Peace

When You Go Home Alone After the Cake

I turned 38 last year, and I felt compelled to capture some thoughts on that day. (ADHD Sidenote: Only just now getting around to publishing them. Classic.)

Here’s the thing: birthdays can be weird when you’re single, especially when you’re at the age where others wonder why you are alone. We’ve been conditioned to think that being alone is the same thing as being lonely. 

And sure, sometimes that’s true. Even when you’re celebrated, even when your phone lights up with messages, there’s still that moment at the end of the day when you come home—alone.

This year, that was me.

And also? This year was different.

I Was Celebrated—And Not Just by Others

At work, I got flowers, cake, and my first piñata (which I was made to swing at with a baseball bat in front of all my coworkers). I had dinner with good friends. I got texts, calls, and messages from people I love.

But the biggest difference this year was how I showed up for myself.

What Changed? Me.

Over the past year, I started pouring into myself. And it turns out, when you do that—when you actually prioritize your own emotional well-being—you have more capacity to pour into others. Wild, right?

I made the calls. I wrote the thoughtful texts. I initiated plans. And most days, I showed up in genuine gratitude, trying to assume the best of those around me. (ADHD Sidenote: This is a key to being happy. More on that another time.)

I’ve always been a kind person in a people-pleasing, codependent-Enneagram-2 kind of way. But this past year, I stopped trying to earn love and started learning how to receive it. Which, surprisingly, changed everything.

The Work Behind the Birthday

None of this happened overnight.

This version of me is 20+ years into therapy. I’ve done EMDR, somatic healing, and trauma work. I’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, said “no” to jobs that drained me. I even hired a life coach last year for six months.

And somewhere along the way, I stopped believing I had no self-worth.

I started realizing that deep down, even in the lowest seasons, there was always a part of me fighting. Showing up to therapy. Knowing when I needed meds. Helping me get out of bed when I really didn’t want to.

And that part of me? She’s louder now. And she knows the truth:

I am worthy. Worthy of love. Worthy of celebration. Worthy of piñatas.

And so are you.

A Quick Practice

What’s one small way you can show up for yourself today?

It doesn’t have to be huge. It could be skipping snooze. Drinking water. Texting a friend. Saying no to something that drains you.

For me, it started with setting a boundary. The first one was not letting my dad talk to me about my weight. And it worked.

Reflection

How can you celebrate yourself today—without waiting for someone else to do it first?