Content Warning: The following blog/short story may contain sensitive content, including depictions of mental health challenges such as depression, anxiety, and suicide. While these topics are approached with care and are meant to promote understanding and awareness, they may be triggering or emotionally distressing for some readers. Reader discretion is advised. If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health issues, we encourage you to seek help from a qualified mental health professional or a helpline immediately.
Just two months ago, I began a new job, seeking a fresh start, in a new town, a new place, hoping to make new friends. Being the ‘newbie’ in the office felt strange and stressful. With no one I knew and no idea who to trust, I tried to maintain the best behaviour, projecting positivity, happiness, and contentment, while keeping my true feelings hidden. ‘Making a good impression is all that counts’, I kept telling myself.
One day, I had a scheduled meeting with my manager, and I had already dreaded it long before. “Briana, you need to step up your game. The last report you handed in was okay, but we were looking for exceptional.” My mind was flushed with thoughts of failure, overwhelming me. ‘What am I still doing here?’, I questioned my purpose at this company. Envisioning it, I could see myself resigning on the spot, unable to cope with the pressure.
‘I can’t deal with this. Not again.’ Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked down, trying to wipe them away without her noticing.
She told me what I could do better, and I tried so hard to listen, but all I wanted to do was to cry. I felt overwhelmed by these emotions. And then she added, “Remember I told you in the interview that this is a challenging position and asked you if you were up for it?’ I just nodded. I had thought that surely I could handle it. Maybe I had been wrong.
Nevertheless, at the end of the meeting, she asked, “Are you okay?” I wondered if she asked because she noticed my reactions, or if she just wanted to make sure that everything was really okay. I hesitated. My mind was still racing with thoughts of sadness, pain, and fear. Ultimately, I shrugged, giving her the answer she expected to hear. “Yes, I am.”
My manager smiled, clearly happy about my response. She nodded, and dismissed the meeting.
Sitting back down on my desk in my small cubicle, I exhaled. No one seemed to have noticed anything. I focused hard on making a good impression. I wanted to succeed at this job. I wanted to be good at something. I wanted to show someone that I was capable, that I was not weak.
Was I failing? Was I failing again? I really wanted to bury my face in my hands, however, I knew it wasn’t the right time or place for it.
I was aware that I needed to hide my emotions to succeed in this role. It was hard at times. Especially after a meeting like that.
My thought pattern was interrupted when Maia peeked around the corner. Maia had been working here for roughly two years. She seemed like she had full control of her life. She was strong, and independent, and so much more than I wanted to be. She always had a smile on her face.
“Wanna grab some lunch?” she asked.
Maia and I seemed to have a connection somehow. I couldn’t explain why or how. She was beautiful, and I wasn’t. She was smart, and I could only try to keep up. She seemed so sure of what she wanted, while I was still figuring it all out. I often wondered if people liked me for who I am or if they had some hidden agenda. For now, I hoped she genuinely liked me, because I genuinely liked her. Perhaps one day, I could trust her enough to share my story.
Maia waved her hand in front of my eyes, trying to get my attention. I closed my eyes and shook my head for a brief moment before responding, “Uuuh, yes, sorry! Yes, let’s go grab some food.”
We had known each other for only two months, and the other week we discovered that we lived close to each other. Almost every morning, I would pick her up, so we could save money on gas as well as enjoy each other’s company. While I did like the work at the new company, I wasn’t particularly fond of early mornings, and there were times when I had considered calling in sick. However, since I had the obligation to pick up Maia, I didn’t have that ‘luxury’. I didn’t want to disappoint her or let her down. But I supposed, it was for the best.
When we sat down at a table in the café next door, I couldn’t hold back my question any longer. I just needed to ask her. “Maia, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask”. For a brief moment, I thought there was a hint of worry on her face, but it disappeared by the time I looked closer. She smiled and responded, “Sure, go ahead. What’s up?” I sighed. “How do you do it?” “How do I do what?”, she asked in confusion, while taking a bite of her sandwich. “Life”, I said. She let out a grunting sound. “Ha, what do you mean?”
“Well, you know, everything just seems so …” I hesitated, searching for the right word. “Effortless.”
Laughing, she set down her sandwich. “Briana, my life is anything but effortless. On the contrary, it’s a mess. But let’s not focus on me. What makes you think your life isn’t effortless?” A tinge of disappointment washed over me. I was genuinely curious how she was doing it. Maybe she held the key to solving all my problems. However, I only realized now that Maia preferred not to discuss her own life. Whenever the conversation shifted towards her situation, she redirected the focus to someone else. Yet, I faced a dilemma. I didn’t want to open up about myself or my struggles either. Despite liking her, could I trust her with it? Just the thought of it made me feel incredibly vulnerable. So, I tried to change the subject as well. “Hmm… you know what, forget it. It was a silly thought.” I chuckled to hide my discomfort. “How are you getting along with the new project?”
We chatted for a while about work-related subjects, as it felt safer. I didn’t mention my meeting earlier with our manager. Whenever the conversation shifted towards my credentials or past job experiences, I made jokes and distracted, not wanting her to realize the extent of my failures.
My whole life had been a mess. I’d gone from one job to another, never finding true enjoyment that had lasted more than 12 months. I’d always felt trapped, unable to break free. I had never been promoted nor headhunted. Being well aware of the mistakes I had made in my past; the drugs, the alcohol, I desperately needed to get back onto the right path. But what did I need to do to?
I had hoped that Maia might have some answers for me, but it seemed she wasn’t willing to share.
As the day flew by, I found myself ready to head home. Walking over to Maia’s desk to offer her a ride, she looked up and spoke before I had the chance, “Oh sorry, I forgot to tell you, I’ll be going to a class in the gym, so I’ll be taking the bus home.” A wave of sadness and disappointment washed over me. Why hadn’t she mentioned it earlier? Just the other day, I had talked about wanting to join a gym too. Being the new girl in town, or at work, I had hoped for an invitation from her. Why didn’t she invite me to join her? I longed for a good friend.
Suppressing all the emotions and thoughts racing through my mind, I simply nodded, forcing a smile, and replied, “Oh, right, that’s okay. Have fun!” “Thanks!” was all she said and returned to her work. As my manager caught my eye, her headset on, likely in a meeting, she nodded, signalling that I could leave. I waved and forced another smile before heading out.
I didn’t even make it home, before the tears began streaming down my face. Why did every job end up like this? I wasn’t doing the job right and I couldn’t make real friends. Why did it feel like no one ever likes me? How could I make them like me?
The sadness overwhelmed me, and my concentration on the traffic faltered. It was as if I were on autopilot, only snapping back to awareness when I parked, unsure if the last light I passed was green or red. Wiping away the tears, I hurriedly entered my apartment, shutting the door behind me. Leaning against it, I slid down to the floor, burying my head in my knees as I cried.
I couldn’t even tell the exact reason why I felt so sad. It seemed like everything in my life was going wrong, and I felt lost. Lost in the sense of knowing what the right track looked like but unable to find a path there.
‘But Briana’, I said to myself, ‘you don’t take any drugs anymore. When was the last time you drank alcohol? You are on the right track!’
My compassionate inner voice tried to offer comfort and soothe me, yet there was another side of me that insisted on confronting the harsh truth. ‘You messed up. Big time. Let’s be honest, no one is ever going to like you.’ The pain intensified. I could feel it physically in my body. My neck, head, back, and chest. It all ached.
I couldn’t comprehend why I was still feeling this pain. I believed I had overcome it all when I stopped using drugs. I thought saying no to numbing the emotions and yes to feeling them, would finally restore the joy of my life. Yet, I was confused by how my feelings kept changing. Some days I felt okay and could carry on, while on others, I simply wanted to stay in bed, almost unable to move.
I couldn’t recall how long I sat at my front door or how I managed to eat a little something. I felt hollow, like an empty shell. My body was here, but my mind was absent.
Tired and exhausted from the pain and the crying, I fell into bed, not knowing or caring what the time was.
The next morning was just like the previous night. I woke up feeling tired and my body was aching. How was I still so tired? I slept, didn’t I? For a moment, I thought about calling in sick to work. However, I remembered that I’d only been working there for two months, and I didn’t want to make a bad impression. I had to get up. I had to show up. I was annoyed with myself for worrying about my contract extension if I took a sick day. ‘If I’m not well, why do I need to go in to work?’, I asked myself.
But I knew the answer. I was easily replaceable. Instead of dwelling on that thought, I decided to drag myself out of bed and go to work, even though I knew I wouldn’t be very productive. But I wanted to keep everyone happy.
That’s when I flicked a text to Maia, asking if she wanted a ride to work. “Good morning, Maia! I’m going to drive to work today, would you like me to pick you up? I could be there in about an hour.” I said. Thinking Maia might still be asleep, I went to the bathroom and to get ready. Just before leaving the house, I finally received a response. I took a deep breath before opening her message. I felt nervous. If she said no to the ride, would it mean she disliked me? On the other hand, if she said yes, what would I say to her during the car ride? “Yes, that’d be great, thanks. See you in a bit”, she replies plainly, and once more, I wondered if she truly liked me. I shook my head, trying to push these thoughts away. Yawning, I left my apartment. It only took a couple of minutes to reach Maia’s place, and as usual, I sent her a text to let her know I was waiting outside. It didn’t take long before I saw her coming through the front door. “Hey”, she greeted me as she hopped into my car. “Hey”, I replied. For some reason, I felt the need to be cautious now, to avoid getting too attached. This way, I could protect myself from any further hurt. After all, I didn’t want to deal with any more pain.
Something was different about her today. She didn’t seem as cheerful as usual, but rather down. Concerned, I asked, “Everything okay?” She didn’t respond immediately, and I began to wonder if she even heard my question. But then she replied, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She looked at me and gave me a smile, however, it didn’t match her eyes. In fact, her eyes looked tired. Did she get any sleep last night? “Are you sure?”, I inquired again. “I’m happy to turn around if you’re not feeling okay.” Another long pause. “No, really, I’m okay. Let’s just go to work.” I noticed her hand holding her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. Her appearance today made me question everything I had assumed about her so far. Did she really have her life together? ‘Maybe something has happened’, I wondered to myself, but before jumping to further conclusions, I left it at that.
The ride to work felt quiet and awkward, and longer than usual. I felt relieved when we finally arrived. She seemed to somewhat brighten up slightly upon seeing some of our other coworkers, and I couldn’t help but wonder again if it was me that had caused her downcast mood. Remembering my strong thoughts of ‘failure’, ‘not good enough’, and ‘no one cares’, I felt my throat tighten, as the pain and sadness began to well up inside me. I made an effort to keep it together for most of the day.
Throughout the day, Maia barely spoke to me, and around lunchtime, just as I thought she might ask me to join her for food, she said, “Hey, I think you had a point this morning.” I looked at her in confusion, not remembering what I had said, but let her continue. “I don’t really feel so well. Maybe I just need a day or so.” I felt a slight sense of relief. So, it wasn’t me. Right? “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you going to stay here for a while longer or head home?” I asked. “I think I’m going home and get some rest. I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow.” She winked. “Do you want me to pick you up again tomorrow morning? Same time?” I asked, hoping she would want to. She hesitated, looking down, as if she had drifted to a different place. But then she smiled, although, again, her eyes didn’t seem to match. ‘Did her smiles ever truly reach her eyes? Did I just not notice before?’ I asked myself. “Yeah, sounds great. See you then.” And with that, she turned around, grabbed her bag, and left.
She left me wondering what was going on, but I tried to remind myself not to get too attached. This was precisely what I feared – the past repeating itself constantly. Thinking I had finally found a great friend, I wasn’t so sure now. This reminded me of the times in the previous years when people changed their attitude towards me unexpectedly.
I quickly realized the issue. When you share too much vulnerable information with someone, they can use it against you.
The day repeated itself. Once again, I arrived home crying, deep in physical and emotional pain, surrounded by overwhelming sadness.
The next morning felt like the previous one. ‘When will it stop?’ I kept asking myself over and over again. ‘Why is no one coming to get me out of this?’ Despite my own turmoil, I had made a promise to Maia to pick her up, so I forced myself out of bed again, battling the exhaustion and pain. Parking my car in front of Maia’s place, I sent her a text as usual, but minutes passed with no reply or sign of her. ‘Maybe she really was sick and still sleeping’, I thought. I was unsure of what to do. Driving to work without her? Or wait a little longer and risk being late myself? But what if she just overslept?
‘I should just go and knock’, I finally decided. ‘But is this weird?’ Doubt clouded my judgment. To escape the conflict in my mind, I impulsively got out of the car, convincing myself that taking action was the right thing to do. Gathering my courage, I approached her front door and hesitated for a few seconds before knocking. No one answered. Then, I tried calling her on her phone, but she didn’t pick up. With mixed feelings of concern and curiosity, I couldn’t help myself but tried to open the front door. To my surprise, it was unlocked. I hesitated a moment, feeling like an intruder. “Maia?”, I called out. Again, no reply. With cautious steps, I entered her home, feeling silly for trying to be quiet. After all, if she overslept, I wanted to wake her up. It was my first time in her house, which is why it took me a moment to familiarize myself with the layout.
The rooms were dimly lit, as the blinds were shut, allowing only faint rays of light to seep through the sides of the windows. There were many moving boxes scattered around the place, giving it a feeling of emptiness. ‘Did she move?’, I wondered. But surely, she would’ve mentioned it to me. I tried to remember if our manager had spoken about her leaving, but I couldn’t recall anything. As I stood there, the house seemed still, or at least I couldn’t hear any sounds, anticipating that Maia was still sleeping. Stepping quietly through the living room, I noticed another room down the hall, presumably her bedroom. My eyes wandered to the couch table, where an empty glass of wine and discarded bottle lying on the floor, with red wine stains marking the carpet. An open pen and a note lay nearby, catching my attention. I hesitated, not wanting to intrude, yet an unsettling feeling continued to grow within me. Something felt odd about this whole situation. From a distance, I could only make out the first few letters of the note. I blinked, not trusting what I saw, and moved closer. There it was, written in Maia’s handwriting.
“Briana”, the note said. I stared at it in confusion. ‘What was going on?’ Still considering the possibility that Maia might have moved away overnight, I decided to pick up the note from the table, hoping it might provide some answers.
As I read the words, my entire body started shaking. My head shook from side to side as I repeated, ‘No, no, no’ in my mind. With panic washing over me, I dropped the piece of paper to the ground and hurried to the back of the house. The bedroom door was closed, and this time, my hesitation came not from the fear of doing something wrong. This time it came from the fear of what I might find behind it. I took a deep breath, turning the doorknob, and pushing the door open.
There she was. Lying on her bed, asleep. I exhaled. It was all okay. No need to worry. It wasn’t until I came closer to her bed that I noticed scattered pills on the bed and floor, along with empty containers. I looked at it in shock, then at her. She was asleep, right? I could hear my heart beating louder and faster, my breath became rapid and shallow. “Maia?” I whispered, realizing that no one would wake up from it. I cleared my throat and this time, a little louder, “Maia?” I didn’t know why I called her name. I didn’t know why I tried to wake her up. Because after all, deep down I already knew that she was long gone.
What are the learnings from Briana’s story?
Briana is disconnected from her body and while she made the right choice to say yes to emotions and feelings, she yet needs to understand, that her healing journey has just begun.
Her mind is in constant conflict, causing inner turmoil.
While we often believe that others have their lives together, the truth is we can’t see their pain, struggles, and tears behind closed doors. People may not feel safe to share their deepest feelings, their pain, and fears with others due to trust issues and fear of consequences. Is anything going to happen from sharing it? Will I get help? Will I be going through more pain when sharing my struggles?
While Briana clearly struggles with depression, there are different stages of depression. Briana is at a stage where the pain is often unbearable, but there are still better days. Her awareness is growing, and she knows that she is on the right path towards a healing journey, even if it’s not an easy one.
However, Briana expects someone else to rescue her from her pain and her situation. The reality is that unless she opens up and asks for help, no one can truly understand and assist. That means, no one is coming. If she asked for help, someone would be there.
Taking action is necessary for change, even if it is challenging and painful.
If you or anyone you know is in danger of suicide, please seek help immediately. If there is no one to trust, please find support in any of these helplines.
Lifeline Helpline NZ 0800 543 354 or text 4357 |
Suicide Crisis Helpline NZ 0508 TAUTOKO or 0508 828 865 |
Lifeline Helpline Australia 13 11 14 or text 0477 13 11 14 |