Smiles on the Floor, Silence Inside

Living with depression while working in hospitality feels like choosing my poison every single day.

This industry drains me, challenges me, leaves me exhausted in ways that no amount of sleep can fix… and yet, I love it. I love the chaos, the connection, the rush of it all. But loving it doesn’t make it any less brutal on my body or my mind.

My body aches constantly, it begs me to stop, to slow down, to just rest. And when I finally do—when I get that day off—I don’t feel relief. I feel restless.

It’s like I’m overwhelmed with nothingness, a kind of heavy emptiness that makes me question what rest even means anymore.

People on the outside can’t understand that. It’s hard to explain why I’m tired all the time, why my “day off” doesn’t magically fix me, why I cancel plans or can’t show up fully in my social life. It feels like I’m always apologizing for something I can’t control.

Hospitality is demanding in ways most people will never see. It takes my energy, my health, my relationships, piece by piece. And depression only sharpens the edges of it. Some days, just making it through a shift feels like survival. I’m pouring myself into serving others, into creating joy, while inside I feel like I’m running on fumes.

Still, I keep showing up—because despite the toll, I can’t imagine walking away.

Hospitality is like poison I willingly swallow, because I love it too much to let it go. It’s the only thing that makes me feel alive and completely drained at the same time. And that’s the paradox I live with: depression in an industry that feeds my soul while also breaking it down.