The Silent Battle I Didn’t Expect

By Laura Htet (UDE)

 

SOMETIMES life takes us to places we never expect. A small health problem can grow into something much bigger, and before we know it, we are facing challenges we never imagined. That is what happened to me. What began as a stomach illness turned into a fight with de­pression, and through that journey, I learned how fragile and strong we can be at the same time.

 

About seven months ago, I was diagnosed with H. pylori, a bacterial infection in the stomach. At first, I thought it would go away after some medicine and rest. But the recovery was slow and painful. I lived with stomach discomfort for almost five months before I start­ed to feel better. Those months were some of the hardest in my life. Every meal made me nervous, and every night I wondered if the pain would return.

 

When the stomach issue final­ly healed, I thought the worst was behind me. But then something else happened, something I didn’t see coming. I started feeling unu­sually low. At first, it was just a lack of energy. Then it grew heavier. I couldn’t enjoy the things I used to. I felt trapped inside myself. I couldn’t go outside without panic rising in me. Crowded places made me feel suffocated. I couldn’t even stay in the dark because the mo­ment the lights went out, I strug­gled to breathe. Sometimes fear came from nowhere, rushing into me without any reason.

 

That’s when I realized this wasn’t just tiredness; it was de­pression.

 

To be honest, I never thought depression would happen to me. I had always believed it was some­thing far away, something other people experienced. I had no finan­cial worries. I had the full support of my family. I had good friends and no broken relationships. From the outside, everything in my life looked stable. But depression doesn’t care about those things. It doesn’t choose based on money, status, or how loved you are. It depends on our mental health and how strong our resistance is when life gets difficult.

 

In my case, my body had al­ready been weakened by months of illness, and my mind couldn’t handle the extra pressure. That’s when depression found its way in.

 

What many people don’t re­alize is that depression is one of the most common mental health conditions in the world. The World Health Organization estimates that more than 280 million people live with it globally. It can affect anyone – young or old, wealthy or poor, confident or quiet. And yet, despite being so widespread, it remains one of the most misunder­stood illnesses. Too often, people confuse it with sadness or think it can be solved by simply “cheering up”. But depression is far deeper than that. It alters the way your brain processes emotions, sleep, appetite, and even physical health.

 

Admitting I needed help was not easy. It felt like confessing that I wasn’t strong enough. But I knew I couldn’t continue living like that – unable to go outside, unable to stay alone, and constantly afraid. So, I went to see a psychiatrist and a psychotherapist. That decision changed everything.

 

They listened. They explained what was happening to me. They gave me strategies to deal with the fear. And most importantly, they reminded me that recovery takes time. Some days I felt like I was improving. I could stay calm in a crowded place a little longer. I could fall asleep without panicking. I could be alone in a quiet room for a short while without fear. But other days felt like setbacks, when the anxiety and sadness returned without warning. Still, slowly, step by step, I started to feel like myself again.

 

One of the most important les­sons I learned is that depression is not the same as sadness. It’s not something we can “cheer up” from or solve by thinking positive­ly. Depression affects our mind, body, and emotions all at once. It makes us lose interest in life, drains our energy, and fills us with fear or emptiness. It is invisible, but very real. And just like any illness, it needs treatment, care, and patience.

 

There are many reasons peo­ple develop depression. For some, it is linked to life events such as grief, trauma, or stress. For oth­ers, it may be related to chemical imbalances in the brain or even physical illnesses, like mine. Some­times it’s a combination of both. What matters most is recognizing it early and seeking help before it becomes overwhelming.

 

Today, I feel grateful to say I am recovered. Not only has my stomach healed, but my mental health is stronger, too. I no longer panic when the lights go off. I no longer feel trapped when I am alone. I can go outside again with­out fear. It didn’t happen overnight – it was a slow process – but it was real progress.

 

I could not have done it with­out the people around me. My family stayed close when I need­ed them most, sitting by my side so I didn’t feel alone. My doctors and therapists gave me the tools I needed to fight. And within myself, I discovered strength I didn’t know I had. Depression tried to break me, but in the end, I learned that healing is possible.

 

Looking back, I realize de­pression changed the way I see life. It taught me that resilience is not about never falling. It is about finding the courage to stand up again and again. I didn’t choose depression, but I chose to keep going. I chose recovery. And that choice has made me stronger.

 

I know many people are going through their own battles with de­pression or anxiety. Some might be silent about it, afraid to admit it. Depression is not a failure. It is an illness, and it deserves care just like any physical sickness. We don’t need to fight it alone. Talk to someone. Ask for help. Healing often begins with that first step of opening up.

 

Recovery is not always steady. There will be good days and bad days. But every little victory mat­ters. Spending a few minutes out­side, laughing after a long time, or sleeping peacefully for a night – these are signs of progress. And with time, those small victories become bigger ones.

 

Now, I see my depression not only as a painful chapter but also as a lesson. It taught me compas­sion for others because I now un­derstand the weight they might be carrying in silence. It taught me kindness toward myself, be­cause being human means some­times struggling. And it taught me that strength is not pretending everything is fine, but admitting when it’s not and seeking light again.

 

As I write this, I feel like I have returned to myself. Maybe I am not the same as before, but I am some­one stronger and more aware. I know now that shadows don’t last forever. With time, with help, and with hope, they fade.

 

Depression is real. Healing is real. And hope is real too. If my story can remind even one per­son of that truth, then sharing it is worth it.

 

Because no matter how dark the night feels, the morning always comes.