I’d known I was depressed for a long time. But when I finally went to the psychologist and got a box of pills for it, it suddenly felt like a very real, very devastating diagnosis. I couldn’t even speak to her in my own language in my small town in Serbia so I brought my ex boyfriend along to translate me telling her, “I just don’t enjoy things I used to love to do anymore.”

Back home, I collapsed into my bed and released body-wrenching sobs, over what felt like defeat after working so hard in therapy every week for two years.