For six weekends my girlfriend and I parked ourselves at a coffee shop and planned our first big international vacation. She hadn’t left the country since high school, so her excitement was contagious. I felt eager to share my love for Europe with a significant other for the first time. This was going to be perfect!!! ....cue the narrator saying "annnd it was not going to be perfect..."

It’s interesting what looking forward to a vacation can do for the mind and spirit, over-planning, telling everyone you know you will be missing for two weeks, and the anticipation leading up to that first flight. I saw my therapist right before leaving and she noted my mood and energy seemed much better the last few weeks - what had changed? My only answer to her was that I had a vacation coming up! That was enough!

Now…I could write a whole think-piece about how “vacation” and “the escape” lead us to unrealistic, idyllic expectations, but let’s skip the over-intellectualizing. The truth is: the trip wasn’t at all what we hoped for.

First stop: Italy. Nothing like a quaint little town on the lake, tourist season dying down, and pasta and espresso as far as the eye can see. The dream! What we quickly learned was that the locals made it painfully clear we weren’t welcome. After weeks of practicing Italian, I expected at least one warm smile to my “Come stai?” We walked every inch of that place, lingering in restaurant doorways, trying not to bother anyone in the town that was already very bothered by our presence. We could not admit to ourselves that the vibes were off until, on our last night, the one kind waitress admitted to us flat-out: they don’t like visitors. Ah yes, of course, salute!

Next up: Spain. Usually one of my happiest places. We boarded what was supposed to be a six-hour train to the northern coast, only to get rerouted on a bus in sweltering September heat with no AC. It was a long day already and after sweating through our clothes for hours, we got misdirected to a random suburb while trying to find our hotel. I started frustrated-crying (of course), my partner took over, and we found our hotel eventually. Ordering room service in our robes helped a bit despite the sign over the ancient air conditioning warning us... “do not touch” …not a great sign.

But the mishaps weren't finished. To catch our 6:15 a.m. train out of the town, we were warned that cabs were “unreliable” and buses didn’t start running until 6 a.m. Translation: be ready to walk at 5 a.m. with your bags. Oh and it was supposed to rain all morning. Our cab driver did show up, but not before adding “sleepless night worrying about making the one train out a day” to our trip full of woes. 

Finally: Madrid. A real city with more food, kinder people, and sunset walks that reminded us why we were excited for vacation in the first place. Hell, we even met a few friendly faces along the way, finally! We booked a massage and shopped around the beautiful neighborhoods, releasing the stress of the last ten days. I remember when we were planning the trip, we were talking about how sad we would be at the end, imagining us not ready to leave our beautiful vacation-land! The reality was, with a martini in my hand, we counted down the hours til our flight home. 

Here’s the thing: I know I am not the only one looking for an escape these days. Whether that be via a plane ride thousands of miles away or a reality tv show I can binge for hours. The idea of escaping this extremely intense world right now is seductive, but also a luxury and a privilege I can’t really enjoy. Life doesn’t take a holiday just because you booked one. People can be really rude, trains and buses can break down, and air conditioning might not be guaranteed. Life is still going to life…and maybe that isn't the worst thing.

Even though our vacation was not the best, my relationship with my girlfriend came out stronger than ever. What we wanted was a break and some days we did get that. The reality was not what we hoped for but it gave us a new appreciation for the city we do live in, communities we are a part of back home, and the air conditioning that exists in every... single... room. 

Now if only I could muster the energy to book those Thanksgiving flights home. Sorry, Mom.

Join us for a very raw talk on how depression manifests in our lives

As I revisit our filmed depression event from months ago, I’m struck by how much of me feels the same. No matter the day, I live between highs and lows, especially as an entrepreneur running a mental health organization. I bite my nails, I take myself on walks, I eat my vegetables. I’ll have a week where I feel nothing matters and I do not understand myself. Then another week where I feel so empowered and interested in myself, my work and the incredible conversations I get to call my career. 

Three years ago, I wrote the Our Story section on saymore. To send that personal story to my tech team felt like the beginning of being open—even with strangers on the internet—about my depression.

In one section, I wrote:

“I still believe that my body is missing the air filter, the sliding screen door that helps filter thoughts and feelings before they hit me straight to the core. Every story I heard, every tender moment I experienced, every good or bad thing landed right on my chest, knocking the wind out of me every time.”

Looking back, I realize how long I’ve been circling this question - why I do this work and why I keep going personally and professionally. See below the response I got from my project manager now friend from across the world.

I am seeing friends experience depression who I never thought would. While we exist in our algorithms, our real lives gently mirror that in ways as well. I think my world is stretching into other avenues of joy, other routes of growth and room to be surprised. But I have always been somewhat depressed. And as I recognize that in myself, I do think I can recognize that in others too. So just my small perspective, this is what I am seeing and reading.

Do Antidepressants Help with Depression? My Experience

A friend recommended Lost Connections by Johann Hari, which challenges the “chemical imbalance” explanation for depression. Hari argues that lack of social connection, community, and purpose are often more central to depression than serotonin levels.

When I started antidepressants at twenty-two, they worked for me. I’ve joked that I’m a “placebo girl,” but even if that’s all it was, the relief was real. A friend of mine is starting anti-depressants for the first time and she is very worried about the side effects so she might find different results. It really is everyone’s unique experience so listen to your gut. And also… if your gut thinks you should just “grin and bear it”…maybe check into why you are fine with making your life harder when you might not have to suffer. Break the cycle!!!

Stress vs. Burnout

The word “burnout” is everywhere now. Research suggests stress often leads toward anxiety, while burnout leans more toward depression (Calm Blog). That framing makes sense: many people are tipping over from stress into burnout, especially in today’s climate.

Here’s a quick stress vs. burnout chart that highlights key differences:

This shift - from stress to burnout - may be why so many are experiencing depression who never thought they would. It IS confusing so take the time for compassion to determine what might be the best next step for #selfcare going forward. 

What Depression Looks Like: Different Experiences, Different Symptoms

As I get older, I seek out others whose depression feels like mine. Just like I wouldn’t take skincare advice from someone with a completely different skin type, or fashion advice from someone half my size, I look for people whose experiences mirror my own.

My depression doesn’t always look like the textbook definition I was taught - never getting out of bed, not showering, crying constantly. Very rarely it might, but more often it looks different. The worst days of my depression feel like a heavy dread where every sad story I hear or angry comment I read on the internet makes me feel like we are on a rotting, terrible, irredeemable planet. Other days are just completely grey, where my mind does what it does and we get by with a little sunshine and a good sweat hopefully. 

I think we do each other a disservice when we say this is what you should do, or shouldn’t do. I do think therapy helps, I do think medication can help but it is what works for you. But it’s not the same for everyone, and we should allow for that complexity and nuance.

I once said on TikTok that I wish no one else knew what depression felt like. I hate when people relate to my darkest moments. And yet, when someone can’t relate, my reflex thought is: must be nice.

As an empathetic person, I believe we’re evolving. It makes sense that sometimes we want to hide in a dark room because the noise, online and offline, is too much. It makes sense that inherited pain from past generations, especially women, still weighs on us. Against that backdrop, “seeking joy” every day feels oversimplified and unrealistic.

Soooo... Do I Still Have Depression?

Depression isn’t a one-size-fits-all condition. It doesn’t always look like the stereotypes, and it doesn’t always respond to the same treatments. It shifts over time, in different bodies, in different lives.

For me, it’s an ongoing relationship - sometimes heavy, sometimes quiet, always requiring attention. For others, it may look entirely different. What matters is making space for that range of experiences and staying curious about what works.

So maybe the better question isn’t “Do I still have depression?” but “How do I keep learning to live with it in ways that let me keep going?”

My all time favorite poet passed away this week and I have fifteen years of love for them and their work stored up into all of these formative moments in my life that I wanted to share. 

I was first introduced to Andrea Gibson when I was in high school, catholic high school. I took a creative writing class where my teacher introduced me to Andrea’s work. Andrea is a queer, non binary writer, poet, and speaker. Growing up in a sports-centered family, words held a lot of power but not a lot of responsibility. Early on I loved their poem, the Nutritionist, which helped make me feel so much less alone, struggling with my depression from a young age.

“But knowing as bad as it hurts,

our hearts may have only just skinned their knees

knowing there is a chance the worst day might still be cominglet me say right now for the record, I’m still gonna be hereasking this world to dance, even if it keeps stepping on my holy feet.”

Even when I was actively religious about six years ago, Andrea’s mention of god was a god I really wanted to believe in. With Andrea’s identity, I was surprised that their poems had god in them at all, a god that sounded far kinder than the one everyone else was talking about. I will never forget seeing Andrea perform in North Carolina, I felt so much. I really wanted to talk to them after, and I did while I asked them to sign a poster for me. What do you say to someone who inspired you to read and write for yourself, who made you cry at their words, who felt like you felt? I knew they had probably heard it all from their fans but I was the most star struck I have ever been. It was the closest to feeling holy I had ever felt...in connection with this beautiful person. 

"I said to the sun, 

'Tell me about the big bang.'

The sun said,

'it hurts to become.' "

And on the way home my religious friend said, “Wow that was amazing. Too bad she is probably not going to heaven because she is gay.” Whoa….I did not know I was queer yet myself, but that comment always stuck with me. Watching this incredible person go up there, share their poems, their heart… and you still leave the function condemning them to hell based on their sexuality. 

"Once I found a butterfly’s wing on the sidewalk.

I wanted to keep it but I didn’t.

I knew there were things I should never find beautiful. 

Like death.

And girls."

It is a really weird feeling to have someone that helped you through your darkest moments die from cancer so young. The person that has somehow lit up every other corner of my life and led me to where I am now. What scares me the most is that I will never hear any new poems from Andrea ever again. They are gone, at forty nine years old. And now their life is taken from them when they used to write about wanting to die. I think anyone can relate to that fear. The one where you might not want to be here anymore but then not having the choice. Or the illusion of choice.

"Tonight I’m catching nothing but the lightning bug

My body is a mason jar

transparent as a jellyfish

I wish for a heart you can see straight through

for a voice that glows in the dark"

Andrea Gibson lived a life where their words touched people deeply. They touched me to my core. They kept me alive some nights. Ex friends and lovers of mine will recognize their name. They inspired me to believe in more, to articulate myself better, and to try and be here with all the feeling. I want to leave you with this poem of theirs that has stayed with me the most. 

"The soul misses the unforever of old age, the skin that no longer fits.

The soul misses every single day the body was sick, the now it forced, the here it built from the fever

What else could touch a screen door and taste lemonade?

What else could come back from a war and not come back? But still try to live?

When a human dies the soul moves through the universe trying to describe how a body trembles when it's lost, softens when it's safe

How a wound would heal given nothing but time. 

Do you understand? 

Nothing can fathom the landscape of awe, the heat of shame. 

The fingertips pulling the first grey hair and throwing it away.

I can't imagine it, the stars say.

Tell us again about goosebumps. 

Tell us again about pain."

- Stephanie Kaiser, Founder

I left my job back in February and immediately felt a huge amount of pressure come off me. However, I quickly switched into nomadic planning life. Full time traveling is fun, however having to always make decisions can get hard. My inner thoughts of "I shoulda done ..." or "If I had only ..." have been getting louder these days. I notice these inner dialogues are easy to fuel as pushing a decision 1 day can mean an extra $100 on that plane ticket, or no more availability at that Hostel. 

I stick with my affirmations and journaling however ... I would love to hear if anyone else has left something really stressful to do something that seemed less stressful for it to actually create an almost equal amount of indecisive procrastination stress.