Not Just Me: Finding Myself Beyond Anxiety and Depression

  Why watching other lives makes you doubt your own is something I didn’t notice happening at first. It didn’t arrive loudly. It didn’t feel dramatic. It happened quietly — through scrolling, observing, and measuring myself against moments that weren’t mine. At first, it looked harmless. Inspiration, I told myself. Motivation. A way to stay informed. But slowly, something shifted. I began feeling behind without knowing why. Inadequate without evidence. Restless even when my life was objectively stable. I wasn’t failing — but I felt like I was. Every time I watched someone else’s progress, achievements, or happiness, I subconsciously asked the same question: Why am I not there yet? What I didn’t realize was how incomplete the picture was. I was comparing my full, complex life to someone else’s edited highlights. Over time, that comparison didn’t just affect my mood. It affected my self-esteem. This is how comparison works. It doesn’t attack confidence directly. It erodes it ...

  Introduction  Self-esteem is built through small daily actions , not sudden confidence or dramatic change. For a long time, I believed confidence would arrive once I felt “better.” I thought healing from anxiety and depression meant waiting until motivation returned. But that belief kept me stuck. What I learned—slowly and sometimes painfully—is that self-esteem doesn’t come first. Action does. When your nervous system is overwhelmed, confidence feels unsafe. Big goals trigger fear. Even simple decisions feel heavy. I know this space well. I spent years questioning myself, pushing past exhaustion, and ignoring my body’s signals. Each time I did, my self-trust weakened. Healing didn’t start with self-love. It started with small daily actions that told my body I was safe. Drinking water when I woke up. Resting without justification. Saying no when my chest tightened. None of these actions looked impressive. But together, they changed how I related to myself. Each sm...

  Introduction  Self-esteem after emotional struggles was not something I expected to lose. I assumed that once the depression lifted, once the anxiety quieted, I would feel like myself again. Instead, I felt unsure. Fragile. Almost hollow in places where confidence used to live. After emotional struggles, I didn’t doubt my survival—I doubted my value. I questioned my strength, my choices, and whether I could trust myself anymore. I looked back at the version of me who struggled and quietly judged them. I told myself I should have been stronger, faster, better at coping. But here’s what no one really prepares you for: surviving something difficult can still leave you feeling diminished. Not because you failed—but because your nervous system spent so long in survival mode that self-worth became secondary. At Not Just Me , we talk about the parts of healing that don’t get applause. This is one of them. Self-esteem after emotional struggles doesn’t magically return. It has t...

  Introduction Low self-esteem didn’t show up in my life as hatred toward myself. It showed up as a quiet voice — one that whispered criticism when no one else was around. It spoke when I made mistakes. It spoke when I rested. And it spoke most loudly when I was already struggling. At first, I thought that voice was realism. I believed being hard on myself would keep me safe, productive, and accountable. But over time, anxiety sharpened it, and depression deepened it. The voice didn’t motivate me — it wore me down. Low self-esteem is often misunderstood as arrogance turned inward. In reality, it’s relational. It develops through repetition. It grows when the nervous system is overwhelmed and the mind tries to regain control by criticizing itself. In moments of anxiety, my inner voice rushed ahead, predicting failure. In depression, it followed behind, reminding me of everything I hadn’t done well enough. And slowly, that voice became familiar. Normal. Trusted. This is why Not...

The paralyzing grip of fear is something many of us know intimately. It whispers doubts, amplifies risks, and can freeze us in place, especially when battling anxiety or depression. For a long time, I believed courage meant the complete absence of fear. This misconception fueled a cycle of self-criticism, making me feel inadequate whenever fear reared its head. However, a profound shift occurred when I began to understand that  acting despite fear  isn't about eradicating it, but about consciously choosing to proceed alongside it. It's about finding a delicate balance where fear's pervasive influence doesn't override one's inner compass. This isn't an innate trait, but a learned skill, honed by small, deliberate steps. It’s a powerful path to reclaiming our choices and living a life guided by purpose, not paralysis. Embracing the journey forward, even when the echoes of fear linger behind. Understanding Fear: Why  Acting Despite Fear  Feels Impossible Fear is a ...