aeni

Hi my Sunshines,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How have you been? I truly hope you’re doing well. You’ve probably noticed I’ve been quiet on social media lately. I stepped back from everything for a few months, and today, I want to open up about why.

This post is different from anything I’ve written before. It’s personal—very personal—and honestly, I never imagined I’d talk about this so publicly. But I feel it’s time. Today, I want to open a conversation about mental health, and share my experience as someone who’s been on a self-improvement journey, yet still struggles deeply.

I’ll be telling you my story—what I’ve been going through, and some key things I’ve learned during my treatment. If you’re still reading, thank you for being here. I’m writing this not for sympathy or attention, but because I know how important it is to be real. And maybe, just maybe, this can help someone else feel less alone.

---

---

Let Me Reintroduce Myself

My name is Linh, though most of you know me as Annie. I’m 18 years old, Vietnamese, and I was born and raised in the Czech Republic.

For the past eight months, I’ve been struggling with intense depression. After finally seeking professional help, I was diagnosed with moderately severe major depressive disorder. That diagnosis gave a name to what I’d been silently battling for so long—and honestly, just hearing it out loud brought a strange mix of relief and fear. And what I was feeling wasn’t just “being sad”—it was something real, something that needed care and support.

This isn’t my first time facing mental health challenges. I’ve dealt with anxiety, self-doubt, and self-harm in the past. I’ve struggled with how I look, how I express myself, and how I fit into the world around me. On top of that, there have been painful experiences within my family that still affect me deeply.

But what pushed me over the edge was my first breakup.

This person was incredibly important to me, I have known him since I was a child and our friendship slowly turned into love. And we both risked our several years friendship to experience something as “love”. I loved him so much, so did he. And even now, I remain grateful for what we shared. We ended our relationship unexpectedly, but for the right reasons. It wasn’t something we planned, it just became clear that we had no other choice. Still, it broke me. He was someone I confided in, someone who understood the battles I was facing. Losing that connection felt like losing the only person who truly had my back. And without meaning to, he took something important with him, something I’m still trying to find again. Of course, I’m not here to blame anyone, because none of it was anyone’s fault. As I’ve said, I’ll always be grateful for the time we shared, and I genuinely wish him nothing but the best.

I didn’t want that breakup and after it happened, I started experiencing panic attacks, deep sadness, and emotional numbness. It felt like something inside me had died. My thoughts grew darker, and I couldn’t find joy in anything anymore.

I stopped seeing the joy while doing the hobbies I loved. I stopped being the “academic child” I once took pride in. I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep, and my energy disappeared. My appetite was unpredictable—some days I barely ate, other days I binged to fill an emotional void.

At the same time, I started overworking myself—piling on tasks, responsibilities, and distractions—thinking that if I stayed busy enough, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain. I thought maybe if I just kept moving, it wouldn’t catch up to me. But all that did was push everything deeper inside me. I was trying to outrun emotions that eventually caught up. I ended up carrying too much—more than any one person should carry alone.

I was afraid to let people know how bad it was, so I hid it. I acted fine because I didn’t want to be seen as weak, and I didn’t want anyone to worry. I told myself I was trying to heal, but the truth is, I was drowning in silence.

Everything changed the day I broke down in the middle of class. That was the moment I knew I couldn’t do it alone anymore. I finally reached out and started seeing a professional psychologist. That’s when the healing really began. Through proper treatment and support, I’m slowly starting to rebuild. And that’s what led me here, writing this blog.

But all of the sudden I found out that I have an illness — something deeply personal, and certainly not the news I needed at the lowest point of my life. But as I’ve worked on healing my mind, I’ve learned to accept it. I remind myself how grateful I am that it was discovered in time, that I can receive proper treatment, and that I’m surrounded by kind souls who give me strength. In many ways, I realize now how lucky I truly am.

This isn’t a post I ever thought I’d share—especially since my blog is usually a space for positivity. But being real is part of healing, and I believe someone out there might need to hear this. If that’s you, please know: you are not alone.

---

Depression Doesn’t Look Like What You Think

When people hear the word depression, many still imagine someone crying all day, staying in bed, or visibly falling apart. But that’s not always what it looks like. And that misunderstanding can make it so much harder for people like me and so many others to speak up.

Let’s talk about some of the most common myths and what people often get wrong.

“Just think positive.”

If you’ve ever dealt with depression, you’ve probably heard that line. I have. And every time, it feels like a slap in the face.

Depression isn’t just feeling sad. It’s not something you can fix by simply “thinking happy thoughts.” It’s not about being ungrateful or weak. It’s a disease—a mental illness that affects how you think, feel, and function. Most of us don’t choose to be depressed. No one wants to wake up every day and feel empty or broken. Telling someone to “just cheer up” is like telling someone with a broken leg to just walk it off.

For a long time, I kept trying to convince myself I was okay. I thought if I smiled more, if I pushed harder, if I stayed busy, it would go away. It didn’t. Because that’s not how it works.

Some people look like sunshine on the outside. They’re the ones who are always smiling, always laughing, always putting on a show of strength. But you never really know what they’re carrying inside.

What People Don’t See

I’ve been that person. I’ve walked into rooms with a smile while feeling completely numb inside. I’ve posted pretty pictures while struggling to get out of bed that same morning. Depression isn’t always visible—and that invisibility makes it even more isolating. People assume you’re okay, so you keep pretending. And that pretending becomes exhausting.

Why It Is so Hard to Talk About

For me, the hardest part wasn’t even feeling depressed. It was showing it. Letting someone see that I wasn’t okay felt terrifying. What would they think of me? Would they judge me? Would they pity me—or worse, ignore it?

We live in a world that often praises strength and independence while quietly shaming vulnerability. We’re scared to open up because we’re afraid of being labeled, misunderstood, or seen as “too much.” I didn’t want to be a burden, so I kept everything to myself. That silence almost broke me.

How We Can Change This

Here’s the truth: opening up takes strength—not weakness. And healing isn’t linear. Some days it’s one step forward, other days it’s five steps back. But the moment you start speaking your truth, the weight begins to lift.

If you’re struggling, take a deep breath and ask yourself this: Do I want to keep living like this forever? If the answer is no, then let that be your reason to start searching. Search for the things that bring even the smallest light into your life. A song. A walk. A good cry. A friend who listens. Let those things be your anchor, your spark.

And please—seek help. The people on the other end—therapists, counselors, even kind strangers online—are often gentler, more understanding, and more supportive than we expect. You are not weak for reaching out. You are strong for wanting to heal.

We break the stigma by speaking. By being honest. By showing that depression doesn’t have one face—it has many. It might look like me. It might look like you. And that’s okay.

You’re not alone. You’re not broken. And you deserve to feel better.

---

Tiny Steps That Help When Depression Feels Like a Storm

Disclaimer: I’m not a professional, and I’m still in the process of healing. These are just my personal experiences that I’m sharing in the hope that they might offer some help. We’re all different, but some of these small steps might resonate with you, too.

Basic Self-Care

When depression feels like a storm cloud over your head, sometimes the idea of taking care of yourself can feel impossible. The thought of doing big things—like going for a run, cleaning your entire house, or having a productive day—can feel overwhelming. So, instead of focusing on perfection, I learned to celebrate the small wins.

Even if it’s as simple as drinking a glass of water, eating a small meal, or brushing your teeth—those are victories. Self-care isn’t just about face masks and bubble baths; sometimes, it’s about giving yourself permission to exist without needing to do more than what you can handle in that moment. When you feel like you can’t do anything, let these small acts of self-compassion be reminders that you are worthy of care—even on your hardest days.

Creating a Safe Routine

One thing that helped me when I felt lost in a sea of uncertainty was creating a safe, manageable routine. When depression takes away your energy and makes everything feel out of control, routine becomes a lifeline. It doesn’t have to be perfect or rigid—it just needs to provide some structure.

Start with the basics: wake up at a consistent time, make your bed, drink your water, and do one thing each day that feels even a little bit grounding—whether that’s reading a chapter of a book or taking a 5-minute walk. These small rituals will slowly add a sense of normalcy to your days, even when everything else feels overwhelming. It’s about gradual progress, not perfection.

Finding Grounding Techniques

When my thoughts spiraled and everything felt chaotic, I started finding little ways to ground myself. Breathing exercises, journaling, talking to myself and stretching became my go-to tools for when I felt like I was drowning in my own mind.

Breathing deeply—just focusing on inhaling for a count of four and exhaling for a count of four—can help calm your nervous system. Journaling allows me to get the thoughts in my head onto paper, which can feel like unloading emotional weight. And stretching, even for just a few minutes, can help release tension in the body and bring me back to the present moment. Sometimes, all it takes is pulling out your phone and writing down everything you need to express. Or even talking to yourself can release a surprising amount of anxiety. It’s a simple act, but it can bring a real sense of relief and clarity.

These may seem like small acts, but they help you connect to your body and your breath when everything feels too overwhelming.

When to Seek Help

This is a hard one. Asking for help can feel like admitting defeat, but I’ve learned it’s far from that. When I realized I couldn’t keep going on my own, that was when I reached out for professional support. It doesn’t make you weak—it makes you strong.

When the pain is so overwhelming, therapy, counseling, or talking to a trusted friend can help you process emotions and start working through the things that feel too heavy to carry alone. And that’s okay. Seeking help isn’t a sign of failure; it’s a sign of your strength and your desire to heal. You deserve to get the help you need, no matter how dark it feels right now.

---

Why the World Isn’t Built for the Mentally Exhausted

The Pressure to Keep Going

The world celebrates hustle and productivity, leaving little room for rest.

We live in a world that celebrates hustle, productivity, and constant availability. There’s little space for slowing down, much less for mental rest.”

The Weight of Mental Exhaustion

Mental exhaustion isn’t just tiredness—it’s a deeper emotional and cognitive burnout.

“It’s a fog that clouds your thoughts, weighs down your spirit, and makes even the smallest tasks feel overwhelming.”

Silence in Struggle

Society discourages vulnerability, making people hide their pain.

“Saying ‘I’m not okay’ feels like an inconvenience. And so, many keep silent, pretending to function while crumbling inside.”

---

How I Am Really Doing Right Now

Still in the Process

I’m still in the middle of it. Still struggling. Still figuring things out. But I’ve finally learned to accept that it’s okay to feel this way. I’ve been hurt and maybe I’ll get hurt again. That’s part of being human. Healing takes time, and that’s okay.

Not long ago, I told a close friend, “I feel like I don’t have the right to be sad when others have it worse.” And they said something that completely shifted my perspective: “So does that mean happy people can’t be happy because someone else is happier?” That one sentence helped me realize that pain isn’t something to compare. What I feel is real and it matters.

I’m Not Healed Yet, and That’s Honest

I’m not going to say I’m healed, because the truth is—I’m not. There are still days when I feel completely empty. Days when I’m okay. And days when the sadness just lingers. I’m still emotionally unsteady. Things still hit me harder than they should. There are ups and downs and I’m learning to face them.

The Spark Isn’t Gone

My psychotherapist once told me it might be because I’ve buried something deep inside—something that’s quietly asking to be felt again. And I’m learning that it’s okay to let it come out slowly. Gently. In my own time.

It’s not that I’ve lost my spark. It’s still there, just hidden beneath layers I’m starting to peel back. And I believe I’ll find it again, stronger than before. My spark is still there, it’s just hidden, not lost.

Sharing This Is Scary, but Important

Sharing this… honestly makes me nervous. I feel anxious even writing these words, knowing others will read them. But choosing to speak openly about it feels like a big step for me. A brave one. For the first time, I’m not just admitting it to myself—I’m accepting it out loud. And that matters more than I can explain. Being open is a huge step forward.

I am Still not Ready to Tell my Family

I still don’t have the courage to fully tell my family. It’s not that they don’t know something’s off—they’ve seen that I’m not always okay. But I think they still see it as just occasional sadness, not something deeper. I don’t want to make them worry, and honestly, I’m scared of how they might react. So for now, I’m keeping that part of me quiet… until I’m ready. One step at a time.

Speaking for Others Too

I’m sharing this because I know someone out there might be quietly going through the same thing. (And if that’s you, I truly hope you’re okay.) What you’re feeling is valid. This isn’t just in your head. This isn’t a trend and I hope people won’t make it a trend, it’s a serious mental illness. Depression can’t be fixed by forcing it; it needs understanding and care. Many people are silently going through this. It matters.

Admiration for Silent Strength

I also want to take a moment to deeply admire the people who manage to keep their minds calm and hearts kind, even when they’re going through the hardest times. The quiet strength it takes to carry peace within chaos is something I respect so much. You inspire me more than you know. People who stay kind through hard times deserve deep respect.

Gratitude Despite the Weight

Right now, I’m holding on to gratitude—for the people around me, for the progress I’ve made, and for the ability to heal at all. I know not everyone feels safe to open up. I know what it’s like to keep things buried. But please remember—even the smallest spark can lead to something brighter. I’m thankful for my progress, my people, and the chance to heal and grow.

Moving Forward With Courage

I’m learning to move forward with a clearer mind and a softer heart. And for once, I’m not afraid of my feelings anymore.

---

To Those Who Stayed

I’m really grateful for the professional help I’ve received. Reaching out to a therapist was a big step, and honestly, most of what I’m sharing here comes from what I’ve learned in those sessions. It’s helped me understand myself in ways I couldn’t on my own.

And no matter what, I’m deeply grateful for my family—just the fact that I have one means everything to me. To my mom, if you’re reading this… I want you to know how truly grateful I am for you. You are an amazing woman who deserves only the best. After everything you’ve been through, you still carry so much strength, and I admire that braveness more than I can put into words. If you’ve read this far, you might now understand a little more about what I’ve been quietly facing. But please don’t worry—me posting this means I’m healing. It means I’m finally becoming better. And of course I’ll overcome this… I’m my mother’s daughter.

To my friends who’s cared, listened, or stayed—thank you. Truly. You’ve helped me more than you realize. Your presence made a difference.❤️

Site map
About
AeniShop
Beauty
Ideas
Journaling
Studies
Recipes
Wellness
Contact
Privacy Policy

Social
Instagram
YouTube
TikTok
Pinterest