Reasons To Stay Alive

Matt Haig begins by recounting the abrupt collapse of his mental health in his early twenties when he was living abroad. What initially appeared to be ordinary sadness suddenly spiraled into a terrifying and overwhelming experience that left him unable to function. Rather than a gradual fade into darkness, the crisis emerged like a trapdoor beneath his life, dropping him into panic, confusion, and a sense of unreality. He describes waking up and feeling physically unable to continue existing, a type of pain that was emotional yet felt intensely physiological—heart pounding, breath short, thoughts racing like an alarm siren.

This period marks his first real understanding that depression is not simply prolonged sadness. Unlike sadness, which has definable roots and a predictable emotional arc, depression plunged him into a state where everything—light, air, time—felt hostile. During panic attacks, standing upright required monumental effort. Even walking to the kitchen from another room could feel like a journey through heavy fog while carrying emotional boulders.

Haig explains how shame intensified the crisis. He believed he should be able to control his mind, and that belief became another weapon used against himself. He feared telling others, terrified of being dismissed or misunderstood. When he finally reached his breaking point and considered suicide as an escape from pain he could not articulate, he describes it not as wanting death but as wanting relief. The moment he confessed his condition to his girlfriend Andrea was the first turning point—an act of fragile honesty that allowed another human voice to interrupt the voice in his head insisting he was broken beyond repair.

Depression as an Unseen Battle

One of the central themes of Haig’s story is the invisibility of depression. Because it exists internally, others frequently underestimate its intensity. He compares it to an internal storm—one that rages violently behind the eyes while the outside world sees an unmoving surface. People often described him as intelligent, funny, and capable, unable to reconcile those qualities with the thought that he was barely holding himself together.

The lack of external evidence leads to misunderstandings. Well-meaning people suggested sunshine, exercise, or thinking positively, phrases that sounded as absurd to him as telling someone with a broken leg to “just run.” Depression restricted his ability to eat, sleep, socialize, concentrate, or experience joy. Pleasure disappeared. Time stretched into a suffocating endlessness in which each minute felt unbearable.

He emphasizes that depression distorts perception. It rewrites reality like malicious software altering a computer’s operating system, convincing sufferers that they are worthless burdens who cannot recover. He gives examples of waking up and fearing the next hour, not because events would be bad, but because existence itself felt intolerable. A walk to the grocery store required strategy and rehearsed bravery. Phone calls were terrifying. Even holding a conversation required effort equal to physical labor.

Living With the Dual Weight of Depression and Anxiety

Haig describes depression and anxiety not as independent experiences but twin forces that amplify one another. Depression slowed his thoughts, trapping him in fog; anxiety sped them ...