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You Are Not a Burden, but a Gift: How Building a Support System Saved Me from Depression and Anxiety

  • Writer: Linda Liu | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Linda Liu | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • 1 hour ago
You Are Not a Burden, but a Gift: How Building a Support System Saved Me from Depression and Anxiety

I often woke up every few hours, feeling that the whole world was moving forward, and I was the only one trapped. Anxiety, depression, and the obsessive thinking that everyone I met hated me felt tangled. But reality never stopped because of my emotions: graduation was approaching, I had not found a job yet, and the world situation felt chaotic. I pretended to be normal while participating in social activities, career fairs, and volunteering to prove I was still valuable.


I dared not tell anyone.


I tried therapy, but I didn’t think it helped much at the time. When I would have video calls with my family, I only listened, because I felt everyone was busy and I couldn’t burden them with how I was feeling inside.


So I chose silence. This silence made me feel my psychological distance from people around me was growing, and I started to doubt the authenticity of everything surrounding me—the people, the connections, and the reality itself. Finally, the feeling of "opening my eyes, seeing the dawn, and hating myself for living another day" was too desperate to ignore. 


Seeking Professional Help


That day, I finally walked into the psychological counseling emergency room of the school hospital. There, I was referred to an off-campus therapist who specialized in the kind of support I needed. I felt so lucky I didn’t give up seeking professional help, as I found a suitable therapist this time. She was not the kind of therapist who seemed scripted or distant, but spoke with me sincerely. She was able to keenly perceive that many of the thoughts that made me fall into self-blame were rooted in cultural misunderstanding and unfamiliarity with American society.



She would gently explain things to me, clear up my misconceptions, and sometimes even take our sessions outside, walking by a sunlit lake near the clinic. I still remember walking home from that session, feeling—maybe for the first time in months—a sense of peace instead of panic. I wasn’t overwhelmed by the sound of my racing heartbeat anymore. Instead, a quiet, unfamiliar calm settled over me, surprising but steady.


Reconnecting with the People Who Love Me Most


But professional help, as essential as it was, wasn’t enough. True emotional recovery required me to reconnect with the people who loved me most.


Since my mental health became problematic, I intentionally reduced the frequency of calls with my family because I didn’t want them to worry and was afraid that my negative mood would affect them. I avoided talking about myself, just listening to them talk about their problems, and trying to offer positive emotional value.


On the surface, our communication seemed optimistic, but I felt more and more lonely and depressed. Until one day, my mother, grandmother, and aunt gathered together and asked me about my plans after graduation—stay or return to China, continue in HR or try something new. I was silent for a while, and said in a very soft voice: "I'm really sorry, I can't answer these questions now, because I panic for no reason every day. My only wish now is to live every day in peace."


I regretted it after I said it. I feared these negative emotions would bring unnecessary worries to my family thousands of miles away. But I didn’t expect that their responses would surprise me.


Grandma said that she also experienced anxiety and panic when she was young. Mom and Aunt told me that those voices like"Your life is meaningless" are our brains lying to us. They said: "You are not the first to experience this, and you will not be the last. We’ve been there too. And we made it through."


They accompanied me to calm down, pray, talk, and share their stories. After listening, I did feel much calmer, but I still couldn’t help but apologize, saying that I shouldn’t bring these negative things to them. But they whispered back, "We’ve been waiting for you to open up. And as we say these words to you, we’re also repeating them to ourselves—because we all need to be reminded, again and again."


At that moment, I finally understood: asking for help is not a burden, but an invitation to connection and mutual healing.



Self-Reflection and Self-Reconciliation


After recovering a little bit, I began to try to organize myself by writing self-reflections. I gradually realized that my anxiety and depression may come from a deep sense of lost control. As a highly sensitive introvert, especially a woman who grew up in an East Asian environment that advocates "think twice before you speak," it can be exhausting to study a business major that values high-intensity self-expression and charismatic leadership.


In one of my reflection papers, I wrote: If most business school students are like blooming flowers—vibrant and expressive—then I am more like water. Quiet, adaptable, invisible, but essential.


I nourished flowers from below for so long, alone, that sometimes I felt drained and unseen. I tried to become a flower too—but some things, like our temperament and values, can't be trained away. And that left me wondering if I truly belonged.


I sent this text to my friend Zoe, an education Ph.D. candidate, and I've always felt that she was what I wanted to be—gentle, caring, wise, and resilient. I told her: "I really hope I can be like you."


She immediately replied: "The world does not need another Zoe. It only needs a unique Linda."


What she said made me stop and think thoroughly—yes, we each came into this world with a unique talent. Our existence itself is an exceptional grace. I don’t need to be more like others to be more valuable. I deserve to be seen.


From that day on, I regained some control over my life. I no longer felt powerless and desperate when I got up, but felt that I had a mission: Today I will use my unique talent to create value for the world again.  I know I cannot guarantee that everyone around me will embrace or appreciate me. But I will keep turning my vulnerability into strength—to bring light to those in need.


Carlie Malott

Linda Liu

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a graduate student at the University of Minnesota, passionate about fostering authentic human connection and emotional well-being in professional and personal spaces. I am a certified Mental Health First Aider by the National Council for Mental Wellbeing. I write to honor vulnerability, resilience, and hope.

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Overcoming Mental Health Struggles Through Running: Embracing the Journey of Patience and Persistence

  • Writer: Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • Apr 8

Your mind and your body are connected. They are what make you... you! With this knowledge, it makes sense that they can affect each other. Poor mental decisions may affect you physically. Great physical decisions can help boost your mood. Physical exercise not only keeps your body in shape, but it can also help keep your mind in check too.

Overcoming Mental Health Struggles Through Running: Embracing the Journey of Patience and Persistence

By the time I was a sophomore in college, I had been struggling with anxiety and depression for nearly six years. At this point in my life, my depression only spiked once in a blue moon. But it was still there, at a baseline level, every single day. The main struggle I had was trying to find small joys in everyday life. I found myself crestfallen most days, with no real reason. I decided to give running a try. Getting lost in a run helps clear my mind. I can simply drain out the world. All the worries could melt—even if only while moving.


The Struggles With Running


I never considered myself super athletic. I still don’t. But I had been told in my youth that I have an excellent runner’s stride. There was a gym on campus with several treadmills. With my childlike hope, I stepped onto the treadmill, and I ran for the first time in a while. I ran out of breath very quickly, but I knew everybody needed to build up their miles. I tried to stay as hopeful and determined as I could for a long time. But for some reason, something would always go wrong in my body. I seldom ran out of breath anymore. That was something I could deal with. Instead, I was greeted with cramps or nausea. On lucky days, I could run a mile, but it was not something I could do consistently. I felt like a failure—like I couldn’t even do one of the most basic things humans are built for. I tried different tactics and pulled advice from several health professionals. I would fuel up before a run, I would not eat, I would use the bathroom before, I would stretch... but there was nothing that made a constant difference. So did I give up? Of course, I did! Several different times.


Frustration and Defeat


This thing, running, this very simple activity, was supposed to help my mental health. Yet somehow, it only ever made me upset. I was frustrated with myself and angry at my body. I was doing it a favor, yet it never gave me the endorphins I yearned for. I tried again with a new hope for a different result. But the cramps and nausea would be waiting for me like an alligator with its mouth open. I wanted so badly to make it work. I wanted to smack that alligator clean across the face. But how exactly does one even go about that? An alligator is not a creature you can provoke, and getting rid of bodily annoyances is not an easy feat with a simple answer. I felt completely defeated. I was defeated by my own body—for doing something good for it no less! How dare it betray me like this? How dare it fall apart and crumble instead of bearing a slight discomfort for a greater good? So I gave up again. I had an on-again-off-again relationship with running for several years. I wanted so badly to make it work. I wanted to be a runner- to call myself a runner. The fantasy of the title kept the hobby loosely in my grasp.


The Breakthrough


The important thing here is that I never gave up entirely. I never looked at a treadmill with disgust—only desire and a tad bit of jealousy. One day I had finished a strength training workout. I had a nice long stretch. I checked the time. There were still about twenty minutes until I had to be home to get ready for work. I shrugged and decided to give it a whirl. I stepped onto the treadmill and gradually increased my speed. I kept it at five miles per hour—a nice and steady pace. Slow, but quick enough for me to jog. Breathe through your nose, I remembered. I ran a mile. I could not believe the jubilation that was running through my body.


I was cautious going forward. Taking note of everything I had done, I did it again on my next gym day: weights, stretch, nice and easy run. I stayed on the treadmill to keep track of my pace and ensure I wasn’t going too quickly. I find that for me, running on an empty stomach is best. Breathing through your nose helps preserve your breath. I ran another mile. Then I was at three. Motivation kicked in, as it often does following action. I wanted to challenge myself further. Soon enough, I was able to run on solid ground.


My body had finally gotten used to running. All I had to do was start over and slow down. The mental benefits of running? I find myself chipper on the days that I run. I’m smiling now while I’m moving instead of internally scolding myself for not being enough.


Embracing the Journey


It’s never easy to start something new. It’s totally frustrating when you keep trying, and nothing works. But I have learned that it is all about building. Start slow, build tolerance, and never compare your personal progress to anyone else’s. Your journey is yours. The most helpful tool you can take with you is self-compassion. Be patient, stay determined, understand your body, and be kind to it. The mind and body are connected. Listen to what they tell you. New journeys can be long and arduous. When things get tough, remember why you started and keep the end in sight. Keep moving forward; even if you must crawl, continue to move. Don’t ever be afraid to start from the beginning. Trying a new approach is still progress. Every step, even baby steps, brings you forward.


Carlie Malott

Rowena Poole

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a multimedia storyteller with a passion for supporting mental well-being. With a background in animation and creative writing, I use my skills to share meaningful messages that promote understanding and positive change.

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Healing Through Motherhood: Jennifer’s Journey to Overcoming Childhood Trauma

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Mar 23

Note: This content is fictional and created with the intention to inspire, uplift, and support you on your mental health journey. If it feels discouraging, please feel free to disregard it—your well-being is always the priority.

Healing Through Motherhood: Jennifer’s Journey to Overcoming Childhood Trauma

Becoming a mother is often seen as a beautiful, transformative experience—one that brings joy, love, and new beginnings. For Jennifer, however, it became an unexpected path to healing, one that she never anticipated would help her recover from the trauma of her past. Her journey to motherhood was marked not only by the usual challenges of first-time parenting but also by the deep emotional work of confronting and overcoming childhood wounds that had shaped her identity.


Jennifer's childhood was far from ideal. Growing up in a home marked by emotional neglect and inconsistent affection, she often felt invisible and unimportant. Simple acts of affection, like being hugged or praised, were rare, and as a result, Jennifer grew up believing she wasn’t worthy of love or care. These feelings followed her well into adulthood, affecting her relationships and self-esteem. For example, she would often question her partner's love or push people away when they showed affection, afraid to be hurt. For years, Jennifer avoided confronting her past, pushing the pain down as best as she could. However, when she became pregnant with her first child, something shifted. The promise of new life, of nurturing and protecting a child, brought up buried emotions and forced Jennifer to face the shadows of her childhood.


Facing Her Fears: The Struggle to Heal


As Jennifer navigated the early stages of motherhood, she found herself in a battle between the love she felt for her child and the overwhelming fear that she might unknowingly pass on the same emotional scars that haunted her. One night, as she rocked her newborn daughter to sleep, Jennifer realized she was repeating patterns from her own childhood—becoming overly anxious about her baby’s safety, hovering too closely, and finding it hard to trust others to help. But instead of pushing those feelings aside, she leaned into them. She sought therapy, joined support groups for new mothers, and began to understand how her unresolved trauma was influencing her parenting. She realized that when her baby cried, she felt her own emotional wounds reopen—her fears of abandonment, of being unloved, resurfaced. With each therapy session, she started to work through these triggers, and slowly, she learned to offer her baby the love and attention she had longed for in her own childhood.


With each milestone her baby hit—first smile, first laugh, first steps—Jennifer began to heal. She took time each day to hold her child and remind herself that she was capable of providing unconditional love. In nurturing her child, she learned how to nurture herself. Jennifer started to create small rituals with her daughter, like reading bedtime stories or holding her in her arms without judgment, allowing her to connect to the nurturing energy she never received as a child. These seemingly simple acts helped her rewrite her story and see that healing could take place in the most unexpected of places.


Intentional Communication: Teaching Unconditional Love


One of the most profound steps Jennifer took on her healing journey was intentionally communicating with her daughter in a way that countered the emotional neglect she had experienced growing up. She made a conscious effort to remind her daughter, even in the midst of frustration or chaos, that her love was unwavering.


When her baby made a mess in the house, Jennifer would lovingly say, "I love you no matter what you do. It's okay to make a mess, it's okay to be imperfect, you are always loved."


When her daughter refused to sleep, Jennifer would whisper, "I love you even if you're tired and cranky, and I love you whether or not you want to go to sleep. You are my world, always."


This constant, unconditional affirmation became a cornerstone of Jennifer’s parenting. She would repeat these words during moments of challenge—when her daughter was picky about what to eat, when the house was chaotic with toys scattered everywhere, or when sleep was elusive. Jennifer knew these small but powerful statements would plant seeds of emotional security in her child. In doing so, Jennifer not only offered the love she had always craved but also broke the cycle of emotional neglect, showing her daughter that love is not dependent on behavior or meeting expectations. It is constant, unconditional, and ever-present.


The Healing Power of Motherhood


Jennifer’s journey is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the healing power of love. She is now able to hold space for her trauma while also celebrating the joy of motherhood. Through her vulnerability and willingness to face her painful history, Jennifer has come to understand that healing is not linear—it’s messy, complicated, and often unexpected. One small moment, like her daughter looking into her eyes and reaching for her hand, reminded Jennifer that she could provide the love she never received. She now understands that recovery is possible with patience, self-compassion, and the courage to break old cycles.


An Eye-Opening Question


Have you ever wondered if your journey toward healing might be intertwined with a life-changing event like parenthood? Could becoming a mother help you break free from your past and rewrite your future?


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