[True Story] Chapter 3: What Does It Mean to Support Someone? What I Could Do for My Best Friend with Depression
When someone precious to you is quietly breaking down right before your eyes—
what would you do?
What can I do, when I am neither an expert nor a doctor?
The answer was, "Just be there."
This chapter depicts the long, quiet time shared between him, as he faced depression and a sense of apathy, and me, as I struggled with the helplessness of being unable to do anything.
Supporting someone isn't just a pretty sentiment.
It is the story of my origin—of being lost, getting hurt, and yet, wishing to "support" him.
If you are wishing to be by someone's side, I hope this chapter can be of some help to you.
This story is written in a serialized format. Before reading Chapter 3, I would appreciate it if you could read "Chapter 1 | One Day, My Best Friend Died" and "Chapter 2 | What 'Normal' Destroyed," as I believe they will help convey his suffering and my feelings more deeply.
I would be happy if you could read through Chapter 3 after understanding the background of the story.
I also share insights and daily thoughts on X (formerly Twitter). If you think, "I might be a little interested..." please feel free to follow and take a look.
Some time after receiving his diagnosis, he decided to take a leave of absence from work.
"You should just step away from everything and rest for a while."
Told this by his doctor, he gathered the courage to decide to take a leave of absence.
However, despite being on leave, messages for him kept arriving on his smartphone incessantly. "What's the status on such-and-such?" "This is your responsibility, right?" Such messages drove him further into a corner.
Eventually, he began to feel palpitations every time a notification sounded, even from personal friends. Every time the ringtone went off, his body would flinch in reaction.
Before long, he turned off all notifications.
I think he had reached his limit even with interacting with people.
I wanted to do something for him. I truly felt that way.
But, honestly, there was nothing I could do.
Even after researching the illness and studying mental health care, I was repeatedly crushed by the feeling of helplessness that "there is nothing I can do as someone who isn't an expert."
But even so, I never gave up on just "being there."
Once a week, I went to his house to see him. We would go for walks, go to hot springs, or eat lunch together. We didn't talk about serious things. I didn't try to pry into his worries.
We just talked about trivial things and laughed like we used to.
"It helped that you were there with me."
That is what he told me.
I thought I couldn't do anything for him, but perhaps "remaining the same as his best friend" did have meaning for him.
Months passed, and little by little, changes began to appear in his demeanor.
A little bit of light returned to his eyes, which at first had looked as if his soul had been drained away.
When we went outside, he would mutter, "The wind feels nice," and when he ate ramen, he would smile and say, "This is good."
When he started talking about the future, saying things like, "I wonder if I can work soon," I was happy from the bottom of my heart.
"Maybe he's okay now."
That is what I thought. At that time, I truly believed it.
However, that was just like a fleeting moment of spring.
The next thing that attacked him was a quiet "sense of apathy."
The symptoms of depression and panic seemed to have settled down, but
in their place, his emotional ups and downs began to disappear.
"I don't have the energy to hang out with friends."
"I don't know what I'm living for."
I could tell, even from being by his side, that emotions like "joy" and "hope" were gradually fading from within him.
He didn't say, "I want to die."
But he didn't say, "I want to live," either.
That silence was more terrifying than anything else.
I wanted to be there for him. But no matter how much I wanted to save him, my words felt like they were spinning in circles, failing to reach his heart.
Even when I went to see him, the number of times he smiled kept decreasing.
The "clumsy but straightforward kindness" and "unique perspective" he once had seemed to have vanished somewhere, too.
"Maybe he's never coming back."
There was a part of me that thought that.
Still, I wanted to believe
that "the him from back then" was still alive inside him.
What does it mean to "support" someone?
Is it doing things for them?
Is it saying the right words?
Honestly, I didn't know.
But looking back now, I think.
"Being by their side"
"Facing them head-on"
Maybe that was the greatest support of all.
You don't have to encourage them. You don't have to give advice. Just being there, smiling, and having someone who keeps coming back to see you—he taught me that that alone gives a person a reason to live.
He still hasn't fully recovered.
Even so, little by little, he is trying to look forward.
There are times when he is emotionless, but the light in his eyes seems to have become stronger than before. Back then, while being by his side, there was one thing I felt strongly.
"I want to save someone like this."
If there are others who are being rejected and broken because they don't fit into society.
If there are people in society who are crying in silence, unnoticed by anyone.
I want to be someone who can accept that person's 'differences' as their individuality.
I want to be the kind of person who can tell them, 'It's okay to just be yourself.'
That is why I decided to become a psychological counselor.
That night, the moment my best friend broke down in tears, is the starting point of who I am today.
I am sure I will continue to struggle and feel lost in the future.
But I will never let the tears of that night go to waste.
And someday, I want to be a 'place' for those who struggle because they don't fit into society.
So that no one has to give up on living as themselves anymore.
Thank you so much for reading this far.
It might have been a slightly long and heavy story.
Even so, I am sincerely grateful that you used your precious time to read this.
This story is entirely true.
A version of myself who wanted to support someone but couldn't do it well.
The things that were conveyed just by 'being there,' even when it felt like I couldn't do anything.
And the figure of someone who, while struggling with 'normalcy' and suffering from their 'differences,' is still trying to live.
If even one person thought, 'Maybe I've felt this way too,' then I believe there was meaning in writing this.
'What does it mean to support?'
'What can I do?'
If these three chapters, written while I struggled with those questions, could offer even a little comfort to your heart as you think of someone right now,
that is enough for me.
I intend to continue my work of shining a light on people's 'true selves' from here on out.
And to ensure that there is even one fewer person suffering in society.
May your 'differences' and the 'differences' of others never be denied.
May this world become even a little easier to live in.
Thank you truly for staying until the end.
Chapter 1: One Day, My Best Friend Died
'It might be impossible now.' The night my best friend, who had been smiling, broke down in tears. He was alive. But his heart was broken. This is the story of a man destroyed by 'normalcy'.
Chapter 2 | What Normalcy Destroyed
In childhood, it was an 'interesting personality.' But the moment I entered society, it turned into a 'flaw.' A mind and body that broke down because they didn't align with the normalcy demanded by society.
Chapter 3 | What Does It Mean to Support? What I Could Do for My Best Friend with Depression
The smartphone that wouldn't stop ringing even after he took a leave of absence. What can I do for a best friend who is becoming unable to connect with anyone?
From depression to lethargy—while repeatedly feeling the helplessness of his wavering heart, I believed in the 'power of being there' and quietly took a step forward.
This is the story of one friend who wished to provide support.
And a record of my own origins as I walk the path of psychology.