Okay I did not manage to keep track of my every step as I said I would so a double catch-up post is in place and will both be published today. After this I’ll be up-to-date and you updated and I should be back on this grind. I could just skip this bit and fast forward to today, but I feel like this was an inevitable and even vital part of the journey; so here we go.

It seems almost as an universal law that shit needs to get worse before it gets better. And so it did; first worse, then better.

After I had published my #1 Confession of a Millennial Burnout blog, I found some salvation in bearing my broken soul for the world to see. I was truly overwhelmed and empowered by all the open-hearted conversations that derived from it. It was amazing how me opening up to the world was instantly met by so many people opening up to me and telling me their own stories. I want to thank you all so much for that and hope we can keep this streak of radical openness going, for it has been the foundation of some of the most meaningful interactions I’ve ever had. It gave me a quick-fix on strength and acceptance but also many lasting insights on the structures of society and modern day life that cause these conflicts.

Thriving of the positive comments, incredibly inspiring conversations and sense of mastery this brought me, I thought that from thereon it would probably get better and I’d slowly find more of that balance I had promised to give myself. Looking back, I laugh at recognizing this characterizing pattern of mine and the pitfalls in my pragmatic approach of ‘getting it over and done with’; thinking that after passing a certain hurdle and ticking it off my to-do list I would magically start to feel better as if my emotional and spiritual self wouldn’t need to do any catching up. Bit by bit I’m growing my self-awareness through observation and reflecting and rather than judging it with thoughts of blame and guilt, I try to laugh at myself, my flaws and my utmost humanity.

Being the creatures of habit that we are, that was not the only pattern I fell back on. Although there was a short yet delightful streak of smiles, it came closely followed by a contrasting dark casting shadow that would make me come face to face with my inner demons; those very demons that I had been avoiding for many years. I went through a short-lived yet gloomy episode of depression. For those unfamiliar with how such things happen, I’d say depression does not await an invitation or comes knocking, it just kicks in the door (waving the 4-4?).

Running around so madly it caused me a burn-out; I see now this is one of the things that I had been running away from. Having struggled with depression and the likes since I was about 9 years old, I had built a perfectly dysfunctional mechanism for myself to cast away these deeply dispirited feelings. Everytime this state of depression would surface, I would take on a new job, move a new place or do something else a little bit, or a little bit much, crazy. Anything that would allow me to bury those unsettling feelings under the urgent and stimulating senses of newness, novelty and excitement. To stick with the Biggie reference; whenever depression would kick in the door, I would simply climb through a window, turn my back and abandon the house. It would work marvelously for some time, being fully absorbed in the external and extravagant sensations all around us, until things would slowly settle down again and those feelings would catch up with me for a reunion; wherever I was, however wonderful the situation. My issues kept stubbornly re-surfacing, but this beautifully dysfunctional way of coping has surely resulted in one hell of a life story.

How could I have been so blind, I wonder now; that to think running and hiding from my problems would make them cease to exist? But honestly, I don’t think I truly believed that; it was just the best way I knew how to deal. Until now.

The cycle continued and so this escape around, on a study exchange to the beautiful country of Spain, it all repeated itself once again as it had so many times before. Liveliness departed my being. For 2 more weeks, I would still force myself to do things as I always had; I kept putting myself out there, meeting people and doing ‘fun things’ as well as working on projects for the idea of having attempted at least. But joy neither gratification was anywhere to be found.

My reality was so far from everybody’s assumptions of me having the most wonderful time on my study exchange. Still determined to let my guards down (although in the hopelessness of it all I couldn’t put myself to keep up the blog) I came out with it through a tiny, but truthful post on the Gram.


no smiling selfies these days. the span of this blanket the scope of my world #thisiswhatdepressionlookslike #keepinitreal #endstigma

A photo posted by ’93 til infinity ✌️ (@nadiapiet) on


I ran out of motivation to keep trying, or get out of bed for that matter. And so for the first time ever, I stopped running, I stopped trying. Admitting that this all must have a root, a meaning, I decided to give in and investigate. Instead of hiding from those feelings; I would sit with them, give into them. With my social anxieties at an all-time high I was so uncomfortable around people I could hardly bare being in this world, and so I didn’t; I retracted and I declared the span of my bed’s blanket the scope of my world, where binge-watching School of Life’s philosophy curriculum, art documentaries and Wes Anderson movies allowed me to find some sense of enjoyment again.

It was pretty dark; literally – with all the doors and curtains closed, daylight expelled – and emotionally – being all by myself and so absorbed in those feelings I had for so long tried to cast away. However gloomy this period was, it was also liberating in a way to no longer be forcing and fighting myself but just give into the melancholy that I had always tried to deny, to myself and to the outer world, and truly see it for what it was.

The situation had no foreseen changes and me seeing myself slippin’ away further into darkness (like War), and my housemates and friends and family back home rather worried about my condition, I knew I had to make a move. Take the next step with me into entry numero tres to find out what that was: #3 Finding The Strength to Give Up.