When I first officially immigrated to Canada, I was 10 years old. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I quickly realized that adjusting to a new country wasn’t just about learning a new language or culture—it was about figuring out where I fit in the world. During my teenage years, the struggle of not knowing where I belonged became overwhelming. Those who arrived later seemed to have their identity already established, but I felt lost in the mix.
Between the ages of 12 and 16, I wrestled with understanding who I really was and what parts of myself I should embrace. My family life was turbulent, and I often felt like I was drifting in a storm. I couldn’t pinpoint why I felt disconnected from everyone and everything around me. It wasn’t until my early thirties that I came to a realization: for almost two decades, I had been living with what I can only describe as low-grade depression. (There is an official diagnosis called persistent depressive disorder (PDD).) It was something I carried with me throughout life without truly understanding it.
I never sought formal help during those years, largely because, except for a few episodes, I never got so depressed that I was no longer functional. It wasn’t until 2022, when I reached a breaking point after repeatedly trying to get my life back on track, that I decided whatever was looming in the background, pulling me back into the void, was beyond anything I could tackle on my own. That was when I decided to get a diagnosis.
The weight I was carrying had grown too heavy, and I could no longer manage it on my own. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety, moderate depression, and ADHD. The diagnosis simultaneously shocked me and didn’t—it confirmed what I had been suspecting for a long time. It put an official description on my experiences, allowing me to let go of shame and shift away from self-blame. The year prior, I had been working intensely on self-improvement, trying to understand myself better, so when the diagnosis came, it felt like the answer I had been searching for all along.
Through this journey, I began to see that my experience of the world was different from others. I always had my own approach to life, my own way of navigating the chaos in my mind. But I often felt out of sync with the framework that society had established, never truly fitting in. My memory was unreliable, my emotions were turbulent, and my personality was full of contradictions and extremes. But finally, I knew why I had this persistent feeling of sadness and uncertainty, and why I felt like I belonged nowhere.
The road to understanding who I am has been long and winding, but seeking help was a turning point. It was only when I recognized that I couldn’t handle things alone that I found the support I needed. It’s a process—learning to embrace the parts of myself that once felt chaotic and broken. But I no longer feel lost. I have finally found confidence in myself and firm footing in the world.
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