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