Out of the Dark

Pushing Through Depression While Finding Myself

Personal Essay by Juan Manuel Mendoza-Tovar | Photo by Lincoln Humphry

Throughout my entire life I’ve been surrounded by people; I was born into a family of nine (now 10). I was never alone, yet I always felt alone. For 22 years, I’ve struggled with finding myself and that confusion led me down a path I never wanted.

I don’t remember when it first started, but it just did. Day after day, week after week, I hid the way I was feeling from others. My siblings, my friends, my teachers… no one knew that on the inside I was slowly falling apart.

I became depressed, but I didn’t know it.

I shrugged off any visible signs of this side of me. I didn’t want to become a stereotype; another kid in the closet who hated hiding. That wasn’t me, I couldn’t be that cliché.

Or was it?

I was living a life that wasn’t mine. Maybe it was because of fear or maybe it was because I was still trying to understand myself, but nothing clicked.

I always made sure that those around me knew that I was there for them and that I genuinely cared about them; this was key. This, made me appear like I had my life under control. This, took off the attention from me and put it on others. This, was key to hiding my sexuality.

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I remember my first crush. I remember the way he dressed, the way he acted and the way he spoke. I also remember that he was a he.

Why did I have a crush on a guy? Just the thought upset me. I hated it. I didn’t want to feel how I did toward him, yet no matter how much I tried to blank my mind or distract myself, nothing worked.

I cried a lot because of it. Usually at home, after everyone had gone to bed. I just wept, and I remember asking myself why I was even born. I didn’t have a lifeline. There was no one to reach out to because no one could ever see my tears; they were just another weakness to my fragile personality. Often times, I’d have random unexpected breakdowns. Because of them I was called dramatic, which led to many people around me caring less about my feelings.

As much love as I have for those around me, they didn’t make it easier. They couldn’t, because neither them nor myself really understood what I was going through.

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“It gets better.”

They say that once you come out, everything changes and you can finally be happy. For a few months after I did, I was. All the sad thoughts, lonely moods and self-doubting moments were gone — or at least hibernating.

That excitement lasted a summer. Once I began college, I lost myself again. I had worked so hard to get to the moment where I finally accepted myself, but in the process became so interested in what others thought of me.

I started comparing myself to those around me and on social media. This is where I again started believing that I wasn’t good enough. No matter what progress I had made I couldn’t move forward.

College is said to be the best years of your life. You see all the parties and people, but what you don’t see are the struggles.

Classes weren’t going well. I wasn’t making many friends and I felt as though I wasn’t fitting in. I almost gave up after my first quarter and again at the end of my freshman year.

I gave it one more chance.

That year, I found a closer support group and life looked on the up. That is, until heartbreak struck.

For the first time in my life, I had been in a relationship where I had been my honest self. When that didn’t work out it broke me. I was unstable, something depression feeds off.

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Then, there was the breakthrough.

It wasn’t overnight; nothing ever is but sometimes things align and have a way of changing.

I met him for the first time twice, once over Tinder and once in person. Neither time did I know how much I would find out about myself through him. After weeks of talking, things became more evident. He had bad days and sometimes didn’t feel like talking; like me.

Eventually, I understood that he too deals with depression and that he had his own way of accepting it.

It is him, who helped me realize I am not wrong.

It is him, who told me that I am no less of a person for feeling how I do.

It is him, the reason that I finally realize I’m much stronger than I think.

It is him that I have realized depression doesn’t define me.

It is me, who I will fight for.