I recently wrote about battling anxiety and depression. After six months, writing about something uncomfortable seems partly easier now. My last article helped me engage with an audience experiencing similar struggles. It’s remarkable how much we can uncover about each other’s inner worlds simply by communicating. Everyday conversations can be incredibly therapeutic—a reminder that we are not alone in our struggles, and my recent experiences have been a testament to this.

That article shed light on how my life transitioned from one horrid experience to another, how life kept pushing and pushing, each time scraping a larger piece of my elbows and knees. In a journey fraught with self-doubt, anxiety, and depression, I found myself grappling with the challenges life threw my way.

Moving from one trouble to the next, I built up ounces of resilience as I walked through these challenges, slowly attempting to fight back and stand up again. While trying to regain my footing, I grasped a few outstretched hands reaching toward me, taking slow steps, hesitant with the looming possibility of failure. As I began to walk again, I realized I wasn’t alone. Others walked alongside—some ahead, some behind—each with their own stories and struggles.

Now, looking around, I see familiar faces looking back at me with eyes glazed in anticipation. Some walk along the same path as me. Some are ahead. Some seek validation for their achievements, while others yearn for reassurance in their uncertainties. They acknowledge their missteps, their gaze carrying the weight of a million untold stories—apologetic yet determined to make amends. They walk beside me, hoping I would help them move forward, mirroring the same help I received. Some just want to talk, wanting me to be there and listen and not judge. To be there for them. That’s all it takes. Others, too tired to take the next step, want to change lanes and ask for help.

As we walk alongside each other, this eerie feeling of “this happened to me too” surrounds us. I realized that our lives were not very different from each other. All of us walking together are equally in debt, though with separate issues, but we are there together. Talking and sharing with each other helped me scratch the surface of the walls, looking behind them, uncovering the unsettling darkness. These are the walls we construct in our lives and not look behind. The walls that we build to protect ourselves from the world.

In a world teeming with activity, it’s apparent that everyone, everywhere, is grappling with their own set of challenges. Life has universally become a struggle. Some speak about the dysfunctional job market, some about house prices soaring through the roofs of lighthouses, some about increasingly stressful finances, and others about how capitalism has reached its peak: the rich get richer.

Amidst the bustling cityscape, forging genuine connections feels like an insurmountable feat. The ones you want to talk to are in a different city, timezone, or space altogether. They are not available anymore. Those promises we made while leaving school and college—promises to stay in touch, meet, and gossip—were all mere promises: sweet and generous lies we told ourselves. We moved on and learned to live without each other. The family has done its part. Exploring what you are passionate about while managing unwilling expenditures in a delusional “life” within the work-life balance is eating you up from the inside, and our mere existence feels morbid. We grapple with our internal demons, navigating the labyrinth of our minds where uncertainty rules. The inevitable challenge now becomes wrestling with the monsters that inhabit your gray space. Welcome to the daunting realm of adulthood!

Amid this darkness, empathy proved to be a beacon of light. With a myriad of challenges weighing me down—financial issues, work-life balance struggles, having to find new work, living alone, grappling with weight gain, being unable to make friends, experiencing a breakup, and what else not-the empathy I received was my knight in shining armor.

I turned twenty-four last month. Life has been gradually improving for quite some time now, ushering in a subtle calmness with each day. The days are still a blur of monotonous routines, the nights a cycle of napping with nothing to do, but I find myself more at peace with the world. Each morning, I awaken with a sense of purpose, eagerly planning my day and contemplating the possibilities lying ahead. I’ve settled into a new workplace, made new friends, and realized that the trials I faced were not mine alone. Through heartfelt conversations, I discovered that others were navigating similar storms.

I asked my friends to read my article about the issues I had been experiencing. They loved it and shared feedback. They rooted for me as if I were the main character. They wanted to help. They shared their stories and showed me different perspectives. I realized the world works differently for each individual. Speaking to them helped me understand that it is okay and that these struggles are common. One colleague confided in me about experiencing impostor syndrome, a sentiment I wrestled with. She said she also thinks she somehow got this job by chance. Another friend shared that he went through a similar breakup process. It’s uplifting to see connections with friends and colleagues becoming meaningful experiences.

One friend mentioned he had been looking to join a gym for a long time, while another wanted a badminton buddy, just like me. Some wanted to go on trips, and others wanted to hang out after work, have a beer and talk about everyday life. A friend from my previous company reached out for help, saying it had become too much for him, and he needed an escape. Grappling with job switching and confiding his issues in me helped him discover new insights. Some of my juniors reached out for help, and we started working together on projects to improve our collective knowledge. Talking to people, sharing my problems, listening to theirs, collectively trying to come up with solutions, and being involved in others’ lives brought a sense of fulfillment.

There are still many things on my list. Now, I find it easier to tick them off one by one. I resumed playing the guitar. I planned and went on new trips with my family, tried out river rafting with my mom and sister, and visited deserts, mountains, and beaches. I resumed my coding community, made new friends, and got busy. I learned that I am not the only one unsatisfied with their cook. I am not the only one looking for a better apartment. We chat about our short stories, lives, and places we come from. Talking about these countless things started lifting me up. I didn’t plan on doing that. It just happened.

I now find joy in simple pleasures: having a hearty breakfast, coaxing colleagues into joining me for fancy lunches, and persuading friends to hang out and spend an evening of fun before settling into bed, weary but fulfilled. An evening stroll, working from a café, catching the latest movies with friends and colleagues, attending stand-up comedy shows, and trying out new beer breweries, gin joints, and pubs before bed have become my daily norm. We spend most of our lunches outside. Time passes by, and we don’t even notice. Amidst it all, I find solace in the conversations and connections made along the way. Together, we navigate life’s ups and downs, finding support in each other’s company.

These conversations transcend the mundane, offering glimpses into each other’s lives, dreams, and struggles. As we share our stories, I find solace in the fact that my experiences are not unique. We laugh, commiserate, and dream, finding comfort in our shared humanity. Visualizing lives from another perspective helps us remarkably. Empathy reigns, and we look forward to living another day more resilient, breaking bread, and gulping beer with each other as we engage in laughter and mutual connection.

We are all stuck here. You might be on the further end of the scale than I am right now. But both of us are here. If I could walk downstairs, you can too. Talk to people, share, watch movies, read stories, get lost in a million other worlds, and address your issues. In the end, it all becomes an act of letting go. It took me some time to figure this out: you take the sourest lemon life has to offer and turn it into something resembling lemonade. Share it with others; live, try, and help others live. Build memories. After all, that’s all we are, really. Memories.

- the evildoer
undersigned