04/10/2026
My therapist said, “People who struggle with anxiety and depression often can’t remember much, because they’re too busy focusing on how to get through each moment. They don’t fully experience what’s happening, which keeps them from forming the memories they should have.” And I felt that.
I felt it deep in my chest, like someone finally put words to something I’ve carried for years but never knew how to explain. It made so much sense why entire days, months, even years feel blurry to me.
Why people talk about memories I was physically present for, yet emotionally absent from. I wasn’t lazy. I wasn’t careless. I wasn’t ungrateful for life. I was surviving.
Every ounce of my energy was spent just trying to breathe through the heaviness, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling, trying to make it to the next minute without breaking down.
When you live in anxiety and depression, your mind is always on high alert.
You’re scanning for danger, bracing for pain, rehearsing worst-case scenarios, or numbing yourself just enough to get through the day.
There’s no space left to be in the moment, to soak in joy, laughter, or even ordinary peace. So memories don’t settle. They pass through like fog.
It hurts realizing that some of my life slipped by while I was just trying to survive it.
But it also brought me a strange kind of relief. It reminded me that forgetting wasn’t a failure; it was a coping mechanism.
My brain was protecting me the only way it knew how.
And maybe now, as I learn to feel safer, calmer, and more present, I can start creating new memories - ones formed in moments where I’m not just surviving, but finally living. 🤍
