I dropped out of university for five months. It changed my life.

The night before my sophomore accounting exam, I drove to an abandoned parking lot outside Ann Arbor, Michigan and stress-ate $1-burritos from Taco Bell. I had fashioned the purple Live Más wrappers into a sad excuse for a plate on my lap, and the words taunted me as I ate.

That was when the thought first occurred to me.

I can’t do this anymore.

I had spent the previous eight months attempting to hide my Major Depressive Disorder diagnosis from everyone in my life. The result was subpar grades, failing friendships, unfulfilled extracurricular commitments, and a university experience that felt nothing like the “best years of my life” that had been promised to me.

Something needed to change. That summer, it did. In July of 2024, after months of agonizing over my choices, I decided to take an indefinite leave of absence from university to prioritize my mental health.

I knew time away was necessary, and I was fortunate to have the support of my family, friends, and advisors. Still, asking for help felt like failing. I frequently thought about my nani and nana, who had achieved the quintessential American Dream after immigrating from India to the United States in the 60s. Issues like poverty and racism seemed much more impactful than anything I would ever have to experience, and given that, I assumed that I could and should overcome any challenge with enough willpower and grit. That mentality defined my high school and college experience, with “work hard, play hard” becoming the norm, and conversations about mental health often devolving into competitions for “most sleep lost.”

It’s ironic that, despite my academic focus on sustainability and social change, I couldn’t recognize the myth of meritocracy in my own life. It took months of therapy for me to forgive myself for seeking help and accept that my disability wasn’t my fault. Much like physical disabilities, mental illness creates barriers that require more than pure determination to overcome. You wouldn’t tell a person with a broken leg to walk it off. Yet, for the first nineteen years of my life, that’s exactly what I had tried to do. In therapy, I learned techniques that function similarly to a crutch or brace — mechanisms that lessen the pain and ease the burden, though they are not “cures” in and of themselves.

What else did I learn in my time away?

❤️‍🩹 Healing doesn’t have to be lonely.

Often, our self-knowledge surpasses our ability to communicate our experiences. I can’t always explain my emotions, thoughts, and behaviors to my therapist and friends. That can be an isolating thing, but it’s also completely normal. Conversations are most productive when we focus on what we’re ready to share instead of what we’re holding back. Even a five-minute exchange can open the door for more authentic connections down the line.

✋🏼 Enforcing boundaries is hard, but necessary.

A need for productivity screams at me for each hour spent on self-care instead of perfecting a deliverable, especially as I watch my peers vie for top marks and prestigious job placements. I’ve learned my limits the hard way. I know that, to maintain my mood, I need consistent sleep and balanced meals. I need to follow a strict schedule when taking my medication. I need frequent social interactions. I also know that good friends will put wellbeing first and respect boundaries, even if they don’t always understand the consequences of deviating from my habits. Communication, accountability, and delegation are my favorite self-advocacy tools.

🎁 Happiness is a gift.

I hit a major milestone this week — full remission from MDD! While my depressive symptoms may not play a huge role in my life at the moment, my healing journey remains non-linear, and I’m treasuring every good day. I also know that framing matters — we have a choice to appreciate the good or to fear the bad. There is no healing without hope.

TL;DR: Mental health can suck, but there is always light at the end of the tunnel. Check out my blog for weekly wellbeing insights based on my personal struggles with MDD.

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