The Weight I Carried: Depression, Illness and the Fatigue That Never Left

Four years ago, I was in the worst place of my life.

Not because of one big event. But because of a slow erosion.A long, painful unraveling of who I was and what I could no longer carry.

I was in a loveless relationship.

I knew it was dead.

I felt it in my gut.

But I stayed.

I tried.

I fought.

I kept believing I could fix it.

Because I was used to brokenness.

And fixing it felt familiar.

Safer than walking away.

The Relationship That Confirmed What I Already Knew

He was distant.

Secretive.

Always on his phone.

Always one step removed.

Work meetings that never added up.

Conversations that never went anywhere.

And yet, I stayed.

Even when my body was showing signs of the truth:

I drank more.

I gained weight.

I couldn’t sleep.

I was always tired—so tired.

And I was constantly overthinking, doubting, second-guessing myself.

But I kept showing up.Because that’s what I’d always done.

Lockdown, Isolation, and the Amplification of Pain

When COVID hit, everything that was already hard got worse. Isolation intensified the loneliness.

Routine fell apart.

There was no escape from the overthinking.

The fatigue got heavier.

The light felt further away.

And still, I didn’t reach out.

Not because I didn’t have people.

But because I didn’t know how.

I hated the idea of failing.

Of admitting that I was drowning.

So I stayed silent and carried on—because that’s what trauma teaches you to do.

The Pattern Beneath It All

It wasn’t just the relationship.

Or the pandemic.

Or the drinking.

It was everything that came before it.

Growing up in a broken home.

Being the quiet, awkward, sensitive one.

Feeling everyone’s emotions before my own.

Learning to please people so I wouldn’t be rejected.

Trying to make my dad proud and never hearing the words I needed.

Masking my autism and ADHD for decades.

Over-functioning.

Over-feeling.

Overthinking.

It all adds up.Until the body says, enough.

When Fatigue Becomes Emotional

This wasn’t ordinary tiredness.

It wasn’t just poor sleep or low energy.

It was bone-deep exhaustion.

A kind of weariness that settles in your organs.

Your thoughts.

Your voice.

Looking back now, I know this wasn’t just depression—it was emotional fatigue.

The weight of years of unspoken feelings.

The cost of holding space for everyone else and never making room for myself.

How Sound Brought Me Back

My healing didn’t start in a therapy room or in conversation.It started outside.

Walking in forests.Singing in the mountains.

Letting music move through me when words couldn’t.

That was the moment something inside me began to shift.

Then came my first soundbath.And I was hooked.

The depth.

The stillness.

The movement.

The silence.

I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—myself.

From there, I dove in head first.

I started researching.

I trained.

I explored every aspect of sound therapy I could find.

And slowly, I began to shape my own approach—one that honoured sound as a doorway back to presence, calm, and connection.

I’m still learning.

Always will be.

And I’m inspired daily by the incredible sound and energy healers I meet along the way.

But more than anything, I’m grateful.

Because sound gave me a way to hear myself again.

Let’s Leave You with This

If you feel exhausted in a way that sleep doesn’t fix...

If you’re carrying the weight of years without realising it...

If you’ve been fighting to hold everything together without knowing how to ask for help—

Please know:

You’re not broken.

You’re not lazy.

You’re not doing life wrong.

You’re tired because your body has been protecting you.

You’re tired because you’ve survived things others never saw.

You’re tired because you’ve felt everything—sometimes for everyone else.

But you don’t have to keep carrying it alone.

Healing doesn’t always look like action.

Sometimes it looks like surrender.

Like sound.

Like breath.

Like letting yourself be seen—finally, by yourself.