There was a time when even brushing my teeth felt like a marathon. Getting out of bed? Everest.

Depression didn’t come crashing in—it crept. Quietly. It wore the faces of tiredness, flakiness, and an overwhelming urge to cancel plans and disappear. I told myself I was just “burnt out.” But deep down, I knew something was wrong.

Therapy helped. So did medication. But what really changed things? Small, stubborn acts of self-care. Ones that didn’t look like what Instagram calls “healing.” They looked like survival—gentle, messy, real.

If you’re in that fog, I see you. Here’s what helped me inch toward the light. Some of these took months to stick. Some, I still come back to when things get wobbly.

1. Letting Go of the Past (Kind Of)

I used to lie awake, replaying old conversations like cringey reruns—things I said, things I didn’t say. Regrets had me in a chokehold.

But I realised letting go didn’t mean erasing the past. It meant loosening its grip on my future. I still remember what hurt me. I’ve just stopped giving it the final word.

One thing that helped? Naming what I was feeling—shame, anger, sadness—and asking, “What is this trying to tell me?” It made things feel less like monsters and more like messages.

2. Forgiving Myself Was the Hardest Part

I was my own harshest critic. If something went wrong, I’d spiral. “Of course it’s my fault.” “You always mess things up.”

Sound familiar?

Learning to forgive myself didn’t happen overnight. But I started small—writing letters to myself, saying kind things out loud (even when they made me cringe), and pausing the internal beatdown when I caught it mid-sentence.

Being imperfect isn’t failure. It’s being human.

3. Walking Saved Me (Not Dramatically, Just… Slowly)

There were mornings I’d sit on the edge of the bed for 40 minutes, trying to convince myself to move. Eventually, I made a deal: just walk to the end of the road.

That turned into five minutes. Then ten. Then twenty.

I didn’t even walk fast. I just moved. No headphones, no pressure. Just air on my face and proof that I still existed outside my thoughts.

Nature doesn’t care how you’re doing. And weirdly, that was comforting.

4. Food Is Mood (I Was Sceptical Too)

Comfort food was my love language: toast, biscuits, pasta, repeat. But it left me sluggish and foggy.

So I started adding—not restricting. A handful of nuts here. Spinach in my eggs. Salmon instead of frozen pizza once a week. Nothing fancy.

The shift was subtle but real. Fewer crashes. Less brain fog. And when I remembered to drink water? Game changer.

5. Joy Looked Like a Spotify Playlist and a Potted Basil Plant

I didn’t “find joy.” I grew it back in tiny moments. Music on full blast while washing dishes. Planting herbs on the windowsill. Doodling badly in a notebook.

At first, it felt pointless. But joy didn’t come with fanfare—it snuck in through cracks in the ordinary.

Don’t wait to feel “better” before doing things you once loved. Do them like you’re trying to remember who you are.

6. Friends Helped Me Recharge—Even in Silence

When I was at my lowest, I pulled away from everyone. I thought I was protecting them. Truth is, I just didn’t know how to show up as “me” anymore.

But a friend once came over to sit in the same room. No pressure to talk. We watched an episode of Bake Off in silence, eating toast. That moment stayed with me.

You don’t need to “perform wellness” around the right people. You need to be.

7. Hydration Helped My Brain Work Again

I used to go hours without drinking water and then wonder why I was cranky and couldn’t focus.

One day, I read that dehydration can mimic anxiety. I started carrying a water bottle with me—a ridiculous pink one that said, “Keep Going, Sweet Potato.” It made me laugh. And drink.

It’s basic. But when everything feels hard, basics help.

8. Routines Are Survival Tools, Not Productivity Flexes

I hated the word “routine.” It reminded me of alarm clocks and burnout. But when my mind was in chaos, routine was the thing that steadied me.

A simple morning ritual—wake, wash, eat something, step outside. A rough bedtime. A loose plan for the day. Not rigid. Just rhythmic.

When you feel lost, anchor to rhythm. Not pressure.

9. Questioning My Thoughts (Even the Loud Ones)

“Everyone’s doing better than you.”
“You’re lazy.”
“You’re a burden.”

Those thoughts felt like the truth. But I learned to challenge them—not by pretending they didn’t exist, but by asking: Is that actually true?

Therapy helped me replace inner insults with inner conversation. Still critical sometimes, but kinder. Less courtroom, more coffee chat.

10. Celebrating the Ridiculously Small Stuff

There were days I’d brush my hair and feel like I deserved a trophy. And honestly? I did.

Getting dressed, replying to a message, making a meal—those were wins. They still are.

If you wait for the “big” recovery moments to feel proud, you’ll miss the ones that matter most.

11. Supplements Helped—but Not Without Guidance

Vitamin D and omega-3s helped stabilise my mood, especially during winter. But it wasn’t a magic fix—and I didn’t take anything without checking in with a GP first.

The internet is full of wellness hacks. Please check with someone qualified before experimenting on yourself.

12. Saying No = Peace

I used to over-commit out of guilt. Even when I had no energy, I’d still say “yes” to plans, favours, and responsibilities. I thought that was a strength. It wasn’t.

Now I say “no” more often. I build buffer time into my week. I protect my slow mornings like they’re sacred.

Your energy is precious. Don’t spend it proving you’re okay when you’re not.

13. Online Support Groups Helped Me Feel Less Alone

I didn’t think I’d be the kind of person who’d share feelings in a group chat with strangers. But I joined one anyway.

At first, I just read. Then I commented. Then I shared.

And one day, someone replied, ‘I feel this too.’ That simple message cracked something open in me — I realised I wasn’t weird or broken, just human.

14. Rituals That Made Me Feel Safe

Lavender tea. Soft lighting. A playlist called “Gentle but Still Alive.” These weren’t solutions—but they were soft landings on hard days.

Self-care doesn’t have to be a full spa day. Sometimes it’s just putting on clean socks and lighting a candle like it’s a ceremony.

15. Professional Help Isn’t a Last Resort

This one’s important.

You can do all the self-care and still need help. I did. Therapy gave me the scaffolding I needed to rebuild. Meds gave my brain room to breathe.

If depression is hijacking your life, please reach out. GP, therapist, support line—whatever’s available to you. You don’t need to be “bad enough.” You just need to be honest with yourself.

Final Thoughts

Depression isn’t just sadness. It’s disconnection. It’s watching the world go on while you feel like you’re moving underwater.

But small things help — the tiny, stubborn, unimpressive ones: walking, drinking water, even texting a friend just to say hi.

If you’re here, still trying—you’re already doing something brave. Keep going. Your future self is quietly cheering you on.