a story of how depression intersects with reality

Content warning: suicidal ideation

I woke up on Wednesday morning and, like many of you, saw the news that Donald Trump had been re-elected as 47^th President of the United States. And, like many of you, I was shocked, appalled, and horrified not only at the fact that he had won, but he looks like he is on track to win the popular vote. So many posts on social media were laden with despair and hopelessness that I wanted to offer my perspective as someone who has struggled with suicidal ideation and major depressive disorder for most of my adult life.

First, however, let me be clear. The dangers that a second Trump presidency pose to minoritized communities, LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, and women are clear and present. I am in no way downplaying a culture of fear and hostility that he will likely instill. What I want to offer instead is a bigger picture idea, something that I feel often gets lost in the madness of the modern day – with the internet and social media able to keep people updated to the second, every news cycle stuck in 24-hour mode.

Whether it’s climate change, autocracy, or other existential threats, we often think that the problem is so large, so insurmountable, that nothing, nobody, could possibly make a dent in it. I thought about how at times like these, I still carry a beacon of hope. Currently, it’s about the size of a Christmas tree light, but it’s there. And here’s why: when you’ve been as close to death as I have, in the dearth of hopelessness, meaninglessness, and worthlessness, you know that something worth hoping for is better than not hoping at all.

For those that don’t know me, I have had major depressive disorder since I was a teenager and currently, with medication and therapy, I am in remission and have been for the last year or two. I have had two episodes of suicidal thoughts and multiple times where I wished that I didn’t exist (although, let’s be honest, not having depression is something I wish for every day, but that’s different). To take you into my mind back then, it was simple: there was no path forward. In 2019, I was failing coursework in undergrad and had seemingly no path to medical school, which I had been dreaming of since high school and hadn’t given up on. In 2022, I had returned from a last-minute trip to Canada when a former friend was going through her own mental health crisis, only to be thrown into my own as a result of the tangles mess of feelings stemming from it. There is no easy way to explain how hopelessness feels, but it essentially feels like when you weigh two options, (a) stay alive, and (b) not be here anymore, the latter begins to outweigh the former. There is a common misconception that protective factors, like family and friends, act as a bulwark against suicidal thoughts – and to some extent, that is true. But in the throes of a suicidal episode, the only thing that matters is the thing you are focusing on, which typically is the thing that isn’t looking the best. This is why the National Suicide and Crisis Center was such a valuable resource to have. Getting through those initial intense, overwhelming feelings can lead to a return to a (more) normal psychological state, one where logic begins to remind you of all the things that bring you joy, that give your life meaning.

So, in this analogy, the election of Donald Trump is the crisis. We cannot see a way through it, and so, some argue, we might as well give up. Whether that is moving out of the country or simply resigning to nihilism, we get an idea that no matter what we do, nothing will change, nothing will get better.

Until it does.

We don’t know what the future holds, so we can’t say for certain that something will indeed happen. By definition, it is unknowable. Until it happens, we can have an impact, however small, however seemingly futile it may seem, on this future. To give up before trying is to give those who oppose justice, equity, and morality the upper hand – they are still choosing and acting toward their future – and that becomes a runaway feedback loop. Electing Trump was not a fluke nor was the election stolen. Nearly 80 million people (as of this writing) voted for this man, whether willingly or reluctantly, because they didn’t like what their future looked like. We still have that power, and like I said, until what we fear actually happens, there is still hope.

On a more personal note, I haven’t had the greatest streak of luck lately – my girlfriend and I broke up, I have only gotten MD/PhD rejections and no interviews, my work has been stressful, and, at times, experiments have failed completely. But in my lowest, darkest moments, hope is what kept me alive. It remains today what pushes me every day to make the most of the life I have, however flawed and imperfect it may be, to be a better version of myself and make the world around me a better place for everyone. Yes, Trump’s attacks on vulnerable individuals and our system of government should be vehemently opposed. But I would argue that such opposition is, in itself, the fight we must have to make the future a place we want it to be. Resigning ourselves to defeat because nothing matters does nothing to change the trajectory of the future – the world will keep going, in its forever evolving, extremely inequal way. I will continue fighting, for myself, for my neighbors, for those who cannot or have been victims of injustice before. Change requires hope, because without it, there is nothing worth fighting for.

If you or someone you know is having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please contact the National Suicide and Crisis Hotline at 988. You are not alone, and you can get through this.