When I look at my stories now, I can also see how much of what I’ve experienced has found its way into them.
Many of my characters struggle with depression. They feel isolated. They lose people. They question their worth. They struggle to ask for help or convince themselves they have to handle everything alone.
And yet, somewhere in those stories, someone usually reaches for them.
Someone stays.
Someone sees them.
I’ve realized that’s important to me.
I don’t write about depression because I think sadness makes a story deeper. I write about it because I know what it feels like when getting through an ordinary day takes more effort than anyone around you realizes.
I want someone reading one of my books to recognize that feeling and think, Someone understands.
Even if that understanding comes from a fictional character.
Maybe a character can sit beside them for a few chapters. Maybe they can hold someone’s hand through the pages until things feel slightly less lonely.
If one of my stories can do that, then there is meaning in writing it.