Since childhood, I was always the “good kid”.
I was smart.
I was polite.
I did what I was supposed to do.
My parents had hopes for me, and most of the time, I delivered.
Good grades in school.
College.
A good job at a young age.
On the outside, my life looked fine.
People thought I had things under control.
But life doesn’t break you in one day.
It breaks you slowly.
One failure at a time.
One loss at a time.
One disappointment at a time.
After my uncle passed away, something inside me changed.
I started failing my exams.
I lost focus.
I lost confidence.
Then COVID came.
I lost money.
I lost stability.
I lost direction.
Then I lost the woman I loved.
And after that, I lost myself.
At first, I felt pain.
Real pain.
The kind that keeps you awake at night.
But slowly, even that went away.
I stopped feeling sad.
I stopped feeling angry.
I stopped feeling hopeful.
I stopped feeling anything.
I still woke up every day.
I still went to work.
I still talked to people.
But inside, I felt empty.
Life felt heavy, but I couldn’t explain why.
I was tired even after resting.
I was surrounded by people, yet I felt alone.
I didn’t know what depression was supposed to feel like.
I thought depressed people cried.
I thought they looked broken.
I looked normal.
So I told myself I was fine.
To escape the emptiness, I started drinking.
At first, it was just to sleep better.
Then it was to forget.
Then it became a habit.
Soon, I was drinking from morning till I passed out.
Not because I wanted to party.
But because I wanted the noise in my head to stop.
I didn’t want to think.
I didn’t want to remember.
I didn’t want to feel.
Alcohol became my escape.
And slowly, it became my prison.
My debts grew.
My life fell apart.
My self-respect disappeared.
But I still told everyone I was okay.
Because men are supposed to be strong.
Men are supposed to handle it.
Men are supposed to stay silent.
Some days I would sit alone and stare at nothing.
No thoughts.
No emotions.
Just silence.
That silence was louder than any pain.
That’s when I realised something was seriously wrong.
I wasn’t lazy.
I wasn’t weak.
I wasn’t broken beyond repair.
I was depressed.
I just didn’t know it had this shape.
Not tears.
Not drama.
Just numbness.
If you feel empty even when life looks okay,
if you feel tired even after resting,
if you feel disconnected from yourself,
if you are using alcohol or anything else just to survive the day —
you are not weak.
You are human.
And you deserve support.