Depression Isn't a War You Win

I write from the heart, and lately, that has led me into some pretty dark places. I never thought of myself as a depressing person, but these days, I have been really struggling with depression. I talk a lot about mental health on my blog and with my friends because I truly believe it is fundamental to who we are.

Why have I been feeling this way? Blogging and social media have been great outlets for me, and I will never stop sharing. But there is a downside. I read so many inspiring stories about people with GBM who are defying the odds, but I also come across heartbreaking ones—stories of death and spouses grieving their partners. It is hard not to picture my husband writing about me someday, and the thought of someone else filling my place in his life makes me even sadder, even though he swears he will never remarry.

Finding Peace in an Unstable Reality

Talking about death is tricky because everyone has different beliefs. This is not about religion, so I will not go there, but I have found it really hard to shake off this depression lately. I have become more at peace with the idea of death and have few regrets, which I know is rare. I cling to the simple things that keep me sane: I have never gone hungry, I have always had a roof over my head, I have always been loved, and for the last ten years, I have had an amazing partner who will take care of me until the end. These are the things that keep me from falling apart.

But depression does not care how many blessings you count. It is a wave that still crashes. It sneaks up in quiet moments and throws a dark filter over everything. Some days, it is a fog; other days, it is a scream. But it is there. Persistent. Relentless.

The Weight of Anticipation

What makes this all harder is the mental time travel. Wondering how my story ends. Who will be there. How people will remember me. Even in moments of joy, I feel the countdown clock. And it is not self-pity—it is awareness. I am living with a terminal diagnosis. This is not a chapter in a book that ends happily ever after. But it is still my book, and I am still writing it.

And what has that writing brought me? Connection. I have reconnected with old friends, bonded with fellow warriors, and built something that feels meaningful. But it also brings emotional exhaustion. Sometimes, after posting something vulnerable, I find myself withdrawing—avoiding messages, going quiet. I love the engagement, but I also need time to reset.

Choosing to Keep Talking

Even in the darkest times, there is always something to hold onto. And that is what helps me beat depression. Knowing that I have had a good life, that I have been loved, and that I still have people who care about me—it is these small things that keep me going. I have also started to join a support group for others with GBM, reconnected with my mentor, and been more honest with my spouse.

It is so easy to type all my feelings, but when it comes to talking about them, I tend to hide. Is that silly? Maybe. But taking these steps is helping me open up, and it is making a difference. I am realizing that vulnerability is strength, not weakness.

Gratitude and Grief Can Coexist

One of the hardest things to understand is that you can be grateful and grieving at the same time. I can be grateful for my husband’s love and still grieve the time I may not have. I can be proud of my strength and still feel crushed by exhaustion. These things are not contradictions—they are truths that sit side by side.

I am trying to accept both. On the days when my head is clear, I savor them. On the days when I can laugh, I laugh harder. But when the cloud of depression returns, I do not fight it as hard. I sit with it. I write through it. I talk about it. Because pretending it is not there never helped me. And silence only made it worse.

Ways I Cope When the Fog Rolls In

• Writing everything down—even if no one reads it
• Getting sunlight, even if just for a few minutes
• Calling my mentor, who listens without trying to fix me
• Watching comfort shows or listening to old songs
• Letting my husband hold me and not pretending I am fine

These things may not cure depression, but they keep me grounded. They are like lifelines tossed into the deep end. And sometimes, that is all we need—not rescue, just something to hold onto until the tide shifts again.

Final Thoughts

Depression is not a war you win. It is a full-time battle you learn to live with. And that is okay. There is no finish line. No medal ceremony. Just days. Good ones and bad ones. Light ones and heavy ones. What matters is that we keep going. That we keep reaching out. That we remind each other we are not alone.

So, if you are struggling too, I see you. I am with you. And I promise, even if today is hard, tomorrow might be better. Hold on.

Helpful Resources

• National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI)
• Headspace – Guided Meditations
• More Mental Health Reflections – JohnVsGBM

Tags: Depression, GBM Survivor, Mental Health Struggles, Grief and Gratitude, Journaling, Terminal Illness, Coping with Cancer, JohnVsGBM

Disclaimer: This blog reflects personal experiences and is not a substitute for professional care. If you are struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please reach out. In the U.S., you can call or text 988 for immediate, confidential support. You matter. You are not alone.