When you feel like giving up: the night Nico told his brother

Nico was a team lead at a call center in Manila. His team liked him. He remembered birthdays, covered shifts and always had a joke ready on a rough night. Nobody would have guessed how he felt when he got home.

It crept up over a year. A breakup. His father's illness back in the province. A promotion that came with longer hours and less sleep. He stopped going to his brother's for Sunday lunch. He stopped answering the group chat. He would get home at seven in the morning, close the curtains and lie in bed with his phone, too tired to sleep and too tired to get up.

Somewhere in those months, a thought started showing up: he didn't want to wake up anymore. He wanted everything to stop.

It scared him. He told no one, because he didn't know how to say it, and because he was the one other people leaned on.

Nico was sure that saying it out loud would make things worse, or make him a burden, or frighten his family. He also told himself that other people had real problems. He had a job and a roof. What right did he have to feel this way?

That kind of thinking is common in a dark season. Pain can make the future look like a closed door and make you believe nobody would understand. Those thoughts can feel like facts. They are a sign that you are hurting and need help, and they can change.

So Nico kept going to work, kept smiling and kept saying "Okay lang" when anyone asked. Every day the smile took a little more out of him.

One Saturday night his older brother, Paul, texted: "Lunch bukas? Miss ka na ni Mama." Nico started typing an excuse. Then, for reasons he still can't fully explain, he typed the truth. "Kuya, hindi ako okay. Minsan ayoko nang gumising."

Then, for reasons he still can't fully explain, he typed the truth.

Paul called within a minute. He didn't lecture. He asked, calmly, "Iniisip mo bang tapusin ang buhay mo?" Nico said that sometimes he did. Paul said, "Salamat at sinabi mo. Pupunta ako diyan."

Paul stayed on the phone the whole drive over. When he arrived, they sat together on Nico's bed and called the NCMH Crisis Hotline on 1553. A calm voice listened, asked questions and helped them think through what to do next, starting with that night and the next morning.

Paul slept over. In the morning he made coffee, and they talked about finding a doctor.

Getting better took time, and it had ups and downs. It started with a doctor, who listened to everything and started him on treatment. Then a counselor, once a week, who helped him untangle the year he'd had and find words for what he felt.

His family made a few plain promises. Paul would text every morning, even just a thumbs up. His mother would call on Wednesdays. Nico agreed to tell one of them whenever the dark thoughts came back. They did come back a few times. Each time he said something, it got easier.

He went back to Sunday lunch, and a few weeks later to church with his family. He didn't feel much at first. He went anyway. One Sunday the pastor read Psalm 23:4, and Nico heard it differently. He had been in that valley. He was still walking, and someone was with him.

He had been in that valley. He was still walking, and someone was with him.

At work he talked to HR about his hours and moved to a day shift. He started sleeping at night again, most nights.

A year later, Nico says the worst part is behind him. He still has hard days. Now he knows what to do with them: tell someone, rest, keep the next appointment.

If you are reading this because you feel the way Nico did, thank you for still being here. The pain you feel is real, and so is the help.

Tell one person tonight. A sibling, a friend, a parent, a pastor. You can use Nico's words: "Hindi ako okay." If saying it feels impossible, type it.

If you are thinking of ending your life, call the NCMH Crisis Hotline, 24/7: 1553 or 0917 899 8727. If you are in immediate danger, call 911.

If you have felt low or empty for more than two weeks, talk to a doctor or counselor. That is a normal next step, and treatment helps.

If you would like more support today, HopeBegins is free. Pick how you feel and you get one small thing to try today, calming tools, someone to pray for you, and an e-coach you can message on Messenger. I feel depressed has more on what to do next.