I realized a long time ago that progress isn’t linear — but sometimes that realization hits harder than others.
Lately, I’ve been going through what I like to call a mini depressive episode: a time when I’m struggling to get by, when I have almost no motivation to do the things I know help me, but where everything feels stuck at a steady boil — intense, but not spilling over.
2024 was a good year, after what felt like an eternity of struggling. I found a good psychologist, and my psychiatrist (who I’d already known for years) and my support system were all working together for my improvement. I had a good job. I had friends I could hang out with and confide in — something I once thought was impossible. My family understood my diagnosis and was even proud of me and my progress. I had plans for the future that didn’t feel out of reach.
Fast-forward a year, and on paper my life looked the same. Not perfect, but pretty great. And yet, I was still struggling. Even while knowing I had no “reason” to be depressed.
My psychologist explained that because of the way my personality works, I’m more emotionally sensitive and more prone to these dips than some people. In other words, I experience a lot of emotional ups and downs. When most days are good, I can handle the lows much more easily.
That was me in 2024 — riding the waves like a champ, something my psychologist often reminded me to be proud of. But 2025 was. It felt like wave after wave hit me. Every time I thought I could breathe again, another episode followed.
My life became full of crying spells at work that made me want to quit. Frustration because my plans felt far away again. No motivation to get out of bed — let alone wake up at five in the morning to exercise. I stopped wanting to do the things that once made me feel good: painting, reading, even seeing my friends. I had to give myself a pep talk just to leave the house.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. Last year I stepped out of my comfort zone in big ways.
I took a public speaking class — something terrifying for me — and I went on a solo tour to see seven beaches in Samaná, here in the Dominican Republic.
The public speaking class was especially hard. Not only do I talk at full speed when I’m nervous, but Spanish is not my strongest language anymore. I used to speak English and Czech more often, so I forget words and struggle to express myself the way I want. That’s why my psychologist suggested the class.
By the end, I could speak more slowly and with intention. I could even look at my classmates while I talked. My Spanish didn’t magically improve — but my confidence did.
The trip I took by myself on a small tour was really good. I had high expectations that weren’t all met, because my shy side won — but even though I talked little, I still had a lot of fun. It was an exhausting trip full of walking and heat, but I surprised myself by completing it and, what’s more, enjoying it. Photo dump to follow:
The first half of last year was full of tears and times when I wanted to quit everything. But I kept finding comfort — first in my Heavenly Father, and then in my support system and my friends, near and far. I learned to give myself grace, and to accept that I didn’t always have to give 100%.
This year hasn’t been all rainbows and butterflies just because I understand that healing isn’t linear. I still have depressive episodes. I still have hard days.
But now I know what “okay” feels like. I know what happy feels like. I know what healing feels like. And that knowledge is what carries me through the low moments — the reminder that this is temporary, not my whole life. It’s what keeps me going.
So… how was your 2025?
Did you struggle? Did you feel healing?
If you struggled, I see you. And I’m right here with you.
