Breathing Through the Weight of Depression

Depression has been an ongoing struggle in my life—one that does not simply disappear no matter how much effort I pour into healing. Lately, it feels heavier than usual. Getting out of bed has become a battle, and being present in my own life feels nearly impossible.

I am doing all the “right” things. I go to therapy, I show up to work, I try to keep up with self-care. Yet it often feels like everything I have repressed for years has finally risen to the surface, pressing down on my chest so hard I can barely breathe.

What makes this moment even more difficult is that I have been here before. This is not the first time depression has consumed me. Yet now, I am juggling even more: my internship, a demanding dual master’s program, the dream of starting a business, and the possibility of stepping into new professional roles. On the outside, it may look like I am thriving. Inside, it often feels like I am barely keeping my head above water.

At the same time, I am moving forward on paper. I am showing up for job interviews. I am holding a 4.0 GPA in my MSW/MPA program. I keep chugging along, doing what I am “supposed” to do. But that does not erase the deep exhaustion that comes with wearing the mask of strength while inside you feel like you are drowning.

In the middle of this struggle, I remind myself that we do not just live in reality—we create it. Our thoughts, emotions, and beliefs shape how we move through the world. Donald Hoffman, a cognitive scientist, argues that what we see is not reality itself but more like a user interface, a set of symbols that help us survive, not necessarily the truth of existence. In other words, the world as we experience it is not fixed; it is filtered through the lens of our minds.

This means that even in the midst of depression, there is space—however small—for me to shift how I engage with what I see and feel. I may not be able to change the weight that presses on me overnight, but I can slowly shape my own interface: choosing compassion when I want to be harsh with myself, choosing hope when despair feels louder, choosing small acts of presence when escape feels easier.

I often find myself wishing money and bills did not dictate the pace of life. I wish I could take a real break—one that allows me to stop, breathe, and heal without the pressure of survival looming over me.

Depression is not about weakness. It is about carrying invisible weights every single day while still moving forward in whatever ways we can. Some days, survival itself is an achievement.

I do not have all the answers. What I do know is that continuing to show up for myself, even imperfectly, matters. Even on the days I cannot breathe easily. Even on the days when the weight feels unbearable. Because beneath the heaviness, I still hold onto hope that one day I will not just be surviving, but truly living.