Stories of keeping going

Real experiences from people who've been where you are. No perfect endings. Just honest coping.

These stories are anonymous and shared with permission. Everyone's journey is different, but sometimes it helps to know you're not the only one struggling.

Still Becoming

I’m not where I thought I would be in life. There were moments when I felt lost, insecure, and far behind everyone else. My body, my money, my confidence all felt weak at different times. Some days I questioned myself a lot. But deep inside, I never fully gave up. I kept believing that this phase is shaping me, not breaking me. Even when nothing seemed to move forward, I tried to show up. I kept learning, walking, and trusting that my efforts matter, even if no one sees them yet. I don’t have everything figured out, but I believe I’m on my way. And that belief keeps me going.

I’ve learned that growth is quiet and slow. Not everything needs to happen fast. Right now, I feel more patient with myself and more hopeful about the future.

I learned to ask for help

For years, I thought asking for help meant I was failing. I'd watch other people reach out, and I'd think, 'Why can't I just handle this alone?' It wasn't until I was completely burnt out that I finally told someone—just one person—that I wasn't okay. They didn't fix it. They didn't have all the answers. But they listened. And that was enough to remind me I didn't have to carry everything by myself.

I still struggle with asking sometimes. But now I know that needing help doesn't make me weak. It just makes me human.

Some days are just survival

There was a month where getting out of bed felt impossible. I'd set alarms and ignore them. I'd make plans and cancel. I felt like I was failing at being a person. One day, I managed to shower. That's it. Just shower. And instead of beating myself up for not doing more, I decided that was enough. That one thing. The next day, I added one more small thing. Then another.

I'm not 'fixed.' Some days are still just about survival. But I've learned that survival counts. Showing up, even in the smallest way, counts.

I stopped pretending I was fine

I was so good at pretending. At work, at home, with friends—I had this mask that said 'everything's fine.' And people believed it because I wanted them to. But inside, I was drowning. It took hitting a breaking point before I finally told someone the truth: 'I'm not okay.' The relief I felt just saying those words out loud was overwhelming. I didn't realize how much energy it took to pretend.

I don't pretend anymore. Not all the time, anyway. And the people who matter? They're still here. Turns out, being honest about struggling doesn't push people away—it lets them actually see you.

Healing isn't linear

I thought once I started feeling better, it would just keep getting better. But then I had a bad week. Then a bad month. And I thought, 'I'm back at square one. All that progress was for nothing.' But my therapist told me something that stuck: 'You're not back at the beginning. You're just learning the same lesson deeper.' And she was right. The bad days still come, but I handle them differently now.

Progress isn't about never struggling again. It's about struggling with more tools, more self-compassion, more hope.

I found my people

For a long time, I felt like no one understood. I'd try to explain how I felt, and people would say things like, 'Just think positive!' or 'It could be worse.' It made me feel even more alone. Then I found a support group—just a small one, online—and for the first time, I didn't have to explain. People just got it. They knew what it felt like to be exhausted for no reason. To feel guilty for resting. To wonder if it would ever get better.

Finding people who understand doesn't fix everything. But it makes the hard days feel less isolating. And sometimes, that's exactly what you need.

Your story matters too.

Even if you don't share it. Even if you're still in the middle of it.