Quote from Lily Chen on September 22, 2025, 7:20 pm

I’ve always prided myself on being even-keeled. The kind of person who could roll with life’s punches without losing their cool. But lately, that version of me feels like a stranger. My moods have become a rollercoaster-one minute I’m laughing, the next I’m snapping at the smallest things, and then I’m spiraling into guilt for being so unpredictable. It’s exhausting, and I’m not sure how to find my way back to steady ground.

It started subtly. A few months ago, I noticed I was more irritable than usual. Little things-traffic, a delayed coffee order, a misplaced sock-would set me off in ways that felt disproportionate. I’d catch myself mid-outburst, shocked at the intensity of my reaction. ‘Why am I so angry?’ I’d ask myself, only to feel worse for not having an answer. I chalked it up to stress, to the weight of adulting, to the fact that life had been throwing curveballs left and right. But when the irritability lingered, I knew something deeper was at play.

Then came the mood swings. One day, I’d wake up feeling on top of the world, only to crash into a fog of apathy by noon. Other days, I’d feel so overwhelmed by sadness that I’d cancel plans last minute, leaving friends confused and me feeling isolated. The worst part? I couldn’t pinpoint a trigger. It wasn’t grief, not exactly. It wasn’t burnout, though that was part of it. It was like my emotional thermostat had been broken, and I was stuck in a cycle of highs and lows with no off switch.

I tried to fix it on my own. I cut back on caffeine, practiced mindfulness, even started journaling to track my moods. But nothing seemed to stick. The swings kept coming, and with them, a creeping sense of shame. ‘Why can’t I just be okay?’ I’d think, as if my emotions were a choice I was failing to make. I avoided social situations, not wanting to risk lashing out or withdrawing. My partner noticed, of course. ‘You’ve been different,’ they said gently one night. ‘Not in a bad way, just… distant.’ That’s when I realized I wasn’t just irritable-I was disconnected. From myself, from others, from the life I loved.

The turning point came when I finally admitted I needed help. A therapist helped me unpack the layers-chronic stress, unprocessed emotions, even hormonal fluctuations I’d ignored for years. We talked about boundaries, about how saying ‘no’ doesn’t make me selfish, and how my body might be signaling something deeper than ‘just moodiness.’ I started small: therapy, better sleep hygiene, and, most importantly, giving myself permission to feel without judgment. It’s not perfect. Some days, I still snap or withdraw, but now I meet those moments with curiosity instead of shame.

I’m sharing this because I know I’m not alone. How many of us have been told to ‘just cheer up’ or ‘calm down,’ as if our emotions were a switch we could flip? How many of us have internalized that frustration, turning it inward until we feel like we’re failing at being human? I don’t have all the answers, but I’m learning that healing isn’t linear. It’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to ask for help. And it’s okay to not be okay-even when the world expects otherwise.

To those who’ve been there: What helped you find balance when your moods felt out of control? How do you navigate the guilt that comes with emotional ups and downs? And to those who’ve never struggled this way: How do you support someone who’s fighting an invisible battle? I’d love to hear your stories, your wisdom, your hard-won truths. Because sometimes, the first step to healing is knowing you’re not alone.