Healing from Depression and Insomnia: My Ongoing Journey

I never imagined I’d be writing about this. Not because I’m ashamed—but because for the longest time, I couldn’t even talk about it.

When I was in my early twenties, I started experiencing sleep problems that I couldn’t entirely comprehend. I just couldn’t fall to sleep. Some evenings, I would be awake for two or three days in a row. I was so tired that I couldn’t sleep, but my thoughts wouldn’t let me. I ultimately made the decision to see a psychiatrist in the hopes of getting some clarity. She said I had an anxiety problem and gave me sleeping pills and other medicines to help me sleep.

Initially, they did work. I could sleep normally again. But with time, the medications stopped working. One night, after taking them like I always do, I had an unusual and scary experience. I felt completely disoriented and disconnected from reality. That moment shook me up. I knew I couldn’t keep taking medicines. That’s when I found YouTube tutorials that guide you through meditation. They helped me relax. I felt safe and anchored for the first time in a long time. But life got in the way, as it frequently does. I got too busy with education, a full-time job, and a part-time job on the side to keep up with the schedule. Ironically, being tired all the time meant I only got four hours of sleep most nights, which was enough to survive but not enough to thrive.

I assumed things would slow down and I’d finally feel comfortable after I got married in 2015. But not long after that, something happened that made my anxiety come back. I won’t go into details, but it was a surprise, and it broke me. I kept going, acting like everything was fine when it wasn’t. My friends saw it. My husband saw. They gradually pushed me to see a doctor again.

This time, they told me I had unipolar disorder, which is a type of serious depression. I began therapy and took new drugs, such as different sleep aids. But the medications still didn’t help me. I had to take more than the doctor said in order to fall asleep. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to have to take medicine to be able to do things.

The way some individuals reacted made it extra difficult. The people I thought would understand didn’t. Some people began to distance themselves from me, while others were only curious about my situation, and a few even engaged in discussions about me without my knowledge. That kind of judgment hurts a lot. It made me feel even more alone. So I pushed back even further to attempt to keep the little peace I still had.

I went back to what made me feel better: reading, writing, and staying home. My husband, who was working as a virtual assistant for a psychologist at the time, showed me how to use hypnosis tapes. I began to listen to the hypnosis tapes whenever I felt concerned, especially while I was traveling. I even stored meditation tracks on my phone so I could listen to them when things became rough. They worked better than any medicine ever did.

Then 2020 came. I got COVID-19 like many other individuals and had to be confined for 10 days. Being alone in a room with no one authorized to visit made me feel more alone than ever. But something strange happened. I started meditating again to endure through those long days, and it worked. I started to feel a change inside me for the first time. Although the effects weren’t immediate or dramatic, I felt… lighter.

That was the start of my spiritual journey.

Meditation became my peaceful refuge. They provided a secure environment for me to unwind. To be. I resolved to reduce my excessive thinking. I started to think more about who I was, what I believed, and what was really important to me.

Am I completely better now? No. I still have horrible days. I still think too much. I still feel like I can’t handle it. But I’ve learned to see such times for what they are, at least for a while. They don’t make me who I am. They go.

And when they do, I think about how far I’ve come.

Most of all, I’m very thankful for my husband, who has always been there for me. He never judged or pushed; he just stayed.

This trip has shown me that healing is not the end of the journey. It’s a process. It’s a protracted, intimate, and frequently chaotic process. But it’s also lovely.

If you’re reading this and going through something like it, I want you to know that you’re not alone. It takes time to heal. There is no one right way. But there is still hope. And little things like taking deep breaths, meditating, or having someone who listens can make a big difference.

I’m still on this journey. I don’t know where it goes. But for now, I’m just happy to be here, still moving, still learning, and steadily getting better.