Finding a Light Off the Beaten Path: A 24-Year-Old’s Restart from Depression and Hikikomori

Finding a Light Off the Beaten Path: A 24-Year-Old’s Restart from Depression and Hikikomori

Introduction: A Quiet Resolve

Before I knew it, I had decided to quietly step off the “conventional” track that society seemed to have laid out. Graduate university, get a job. That path, which many walk as a matter of course, never quite resonated with me. I’d visited support centers a few times, clinging to a faint hope that a way might open up. But even when I talked to the staff, I couldn’t shake the feeling of a disconnect. The suffocation I felt, the turmoil swirling inside me, couldn’t quite take shape within the prepared frameworks. That experience, rather than disheartening me, perhaps sowed a strange resolve within me. “I can’t rely on someone else to show me the way. I have to find it myself.”

I am now 24 years old. To the world, I might be labeled “depressed,” “hikikomori (a recluse),” “unemployed.” I have no intention of turning away from these facts myself. But that doesn’t mean it’s the “end” of my life. It’s just “where I am now.” And from this current position, how will I walk forward? I decided to document this, for myself, and perhaps for someone else who might be standing still in a similar place.

This writing, therefore, is not a success story. It’s not a dazzling tale of self-help. It is simply an unvarnished record of a human being, at times faltering, yet still trying to search for something. It may not have a special message, but if someone reads this and thinks, “Ah, so there’s this way of living too,” that alone is enough. Of course, I wish to keep private matters concerning my own privacy, information that could identify my whereabouts. This is because it’s a modest declaration of my intent to walk a new path on my own two feet.

Part 1: Tuning In to My Inner Voice

Chapter 1: The Kitchen Table as a Laboratory

My day usually begins with yogurt, a banana, and kinako (roasted soybean flour). It’s less a fixed routine and more a habit continued out of a vague sense that it’s “good for my body” and its convenience. When you’re dealing with depression, paying attention to your meals can sometimes feel like one of the few things you can control.

Natto, kimchi — fermented foods. Soba noodles and sweet potatoes. And since hearing that eggs are good for depression, I’ve made a conscious effort to eat them too. The time spent choosing ingredients at the supermarket can be, in a way, a creative time. “What if I combine this with that?” Such small curiosities bring a modest stimulus to days that tend to become monotonous.

A recent hit has been “soba noodles with kinako and coffee.” It might sound strange just hearing it. I was skeptical at first too. But when I tried it, it was “not bad.” It’s not like, “Wow, this is incredibly delicious!” Honestly, there’s no such dramatic feeling. However, the gentle fragrance of kinako surprisingly doesn’t clash with the flavor of the soba, and to that, the subtle bitterness of instant coffee is added. Combined with the chewy texture of the soba, it becomes a truly profound, comforting flavor.

It might not be a dish I can confidently recommend to anyone. But for me, it was a valuable experience to discover a “new taste” with my own senses, unbound by existing recipes or conventions. “I combined things that are good for the body, so it must be good.” Moments like that, where I can affirm myself a little, sometimes arise from the dinner table. The kitchen table, for me, is a modest laboratory and a place to nurture myself.

Chapter 2: Moving and Being Still

My daily life includes time for physical movement and, conversely, time to quiet my mind. This, too,_ is one of my attempts to find a balance between mind and body in my own way. After breakfast, or whenever I feel like it. There’s no special program; I just refer to videos I find on YouTube or simply stretch my body within a range that feels good. Arching my back in a cat-cow pose, or deeply folding forward to feel the gentle stretch in my hamstrings. Even with my stiff body, as I move slowly with my breath, I can feel the tensed muscles gradually loosening.

Sometimes, I put a little more load on my body. A few squats, or twisting my body while engaging my core. Lately, I’ve also been doing burpees or mountain climbers sporadically, trying to raise my heart rate even for a short time. Honestly, I don’t do it religiously every day. On days when I’m not in the mood, or when my body feels so heavy that even getting up is a chore, I don’t force myself. But the fact that “I managed to move even a little” seems to affirm me, just a tiny bit. When I sweat, I sometimes feel as if the fogginess in my head flows out with it.

In contrast to movement, meditation is also part of my daily routine. This, too, is nothing grand. I sit cross-legged, set a timer for 30 minutes, and just quietly focus on my breath. Of course, distracting thoughts quickly arise. “That thing from yesterday,” “What should I have for dinner tonight?” “I wonder what happens next in that video…” Thoughts surge one after another like waves. But I notice them and gently bring my awareness back to my breath. It’s a constant repetition. I don’t achieve perfect silence, but it’s a practice of observing the thoughts without getting swept away into their vortex. I feel like this is, somehow, leading me to be less swayed by emotional waves, or maybe not. The realization is still vague.

Of course, I don’t spend all day engaged in such conscious activities. There are days when a wave of apathy washes over me, and I sink into my bed or sofa, just waiting for time to pass. At times like these, I leave Amazon Prime Video on and gaze blankly at the screen. The other day, I tried to watch “Bad Boys: Ride or Die,” but I found myself dozing off, and most of the story didn’t register. I think, “I’ll rewatch it later,” but I also try not to blame myself too much for it. “This is just that kind of time,” I simply accept.

Moving, being still, and sometimes, just drifting. There’s probably no single right answer. I try to do what I can, within my limits, according to my state at the time. In this way, in my own fashion, I continue to listen to the voices of my mind and body, searching for balance.

Chapter 3: Gathering Small Lights

In the midst of days filled with oppressive feelings, there are moments when something like a light shines through. It’s usually a very modest “new discovery.” The other day, I found some apple jam cookies at a shop I happened to stop by. I wasn’t particularly expecting anything, but when I took a bite, I was a little surprised. The cookie dough, with its crunchy texture, had a hint of saltiness. And the apple jam inside was thicker than I had imagined, and a sweet and sour apple flavor spread in my mouth.

“Ah, this is delicious.”

The fact that I could genuinely feel that way seemed somehow very precious. My taste buds could feel joy. That simple fact felt like it lit a small, warm light within my often-dimmed heart. Discovering new tastes, having first-time experiences — these things bring a little change and color to a daily life that can feel stagnant.

Similarly, I’ve recently been reminded of the importance of “basking in the sunlight” and “getting enough sleep.” Previously, my days and nights were often reversed, and I’d spend a lot of time in rooms with the curtains drawn. But when I consciously try to get even a little sunlight in the morning, I definitely feel different. The scientific basis (something about serotonin or vitamin D) is something I understand intellectually, but when I feel it in my body, the conviction is completely different. It’s a sensation that my body and mind naturally seek it out.

Sleep is the same. It might not be that “just sleeping longer is good,” but at least since I started consciously trying to secure enough sleep time, I feel like the waves of my mood during the day have become a little calmer. Of course, it doesn’t have an immediate effect, and on some days, no matter how much I sleep, I don’t feel refreshed. Still, the awareness that “I’m trying to take care of my body” itself might be slightly supporting my self-esteem.

Diet, exercise, meditation, and sunlight and sleep. None of these are miracle cures that bring about dramatic changes. However, each of these small attempts and discoveries is like a fragment of light found groping in the dark. I gather these lights, one by one. That’s how I somehow manage to get through each day. Even when I feel like I’m about to be swallowed by despair, searching for the small lights that might be lying at my feet — that might be the best resistance I can offer right now.

Part 2: Weaving a Future in the Digital World

Chapter 4: Encountering Code

Amidst melancholic days, my interest gradually turned towards the digital world. The trigger might have been something truly trivial. While searching for information online or watching videos, I might have idly wondered, “How is this website made?” Or perhaps, upon encountering a useful tool or app someone had created, I felt, “It might be interesting if I could make something too.” I can’t recall exactly, but before I knew it, I was standing at the entrance to the unknown world of “programming.”

HTML, CSS, JavaScript, Python… At first, I was overwhelmed by these words, which seemed like a string of incantations. But at the same time, there was a vague sense of anticipation, as if new possibilities were unfolding there. For me, who had mostly spent my time passively, the act of “creating something myself” resonated deeply.

I started by fumbling around. I peeked at online learning sites, skimmed through introductory books. Displaying simple text with HTML, changing its color and size with CSS. Even just that, when my written instructions (code) transformed into a visible form on the screen, I felt an unexpected sense of fun. “Ah, so this is how web pages are made.” It felt as if I’d glimpsed a part of how the world works.

Of course, I hit walls quickly. Trying to add slightly complex movements with JavaScript resulted in a stream of errors. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and the time spent staring at the screen increased. Even writing a simple calculation program in Python, when it didn’t work as intended, I’d feel like giving up. Honestly, it’s difficult. It requires logical thinking skills and perseverance.

And yet, mysteriously, a part of me can’t completely give up. The small sense of achievement when I pinpoint the cause of an error, fix the code, and it finally works as intended — that’s an intellectual thrill, different from the joy I find in daily meals or exercise. On the other side of the screen lies a world that is logical, yet creative. There, the code I write holds the potential to create something new.

I don’t know yet how this encounter with code will change my life. But for now, I just want to cherish this newfound curiosity and the process of trial and error itself. It might be more than just a way to pass the time; it could be the sowing of small seeds for the future.

Chapter 5: AI and Beyond

As I gradually began to navigate the vast world of programming, my heart has been particularly drawn to the field of “AI (Artificial Intelligence).” The advancements in AI reported in news and articles are remarkable, and sometimes it’s spoken of as a threat, but to me, it feels more like a frontier with immeasurable potential.

Why AI? For one, I feel that in the society ahead, the skills to understand and utilize AI will become increasingly important. I don’t know how the world will change. But rather than just riding the wave of change, I have a desire to know how that wave is occurring. And, if possible, I’d like to be on the side that uses that technology to create something.

There’s another, more personal reason. I have a vague anticipation that if I combine my own experiences — namely, depression and social withdrawal — with AI technology, something new might emerge. For example, a system that understands and empathizes with human emotions and conditions. Or a tool that helps rebuild connections with society. I don’t have a concrete form in mind yet, but AI’s ability to “learn, infer, and make decisions” might enable different approaches to complex human inner worlds and social issues. When I think about it that way, my heart beats a little faster.

Of course, my current skills are still far from touching the core of AI. I’m at the stage of tidying up the appearance of web pages with HTML and CSS, or learning basic data processing with Python. Incorporating AI into a system is, at this point, close to a pipe dream. Machine learning algorithms, handling vast amounts of data, ethical issues… The walls to overcome are high and many.

Nevertheless, by setting the goal of “being able to incorporate AI into a system,” I feel that a path emerges for my daily learning. Deepening my Python studies, learning the basics of data science, and eventually, trying my hand at machine learning libraries. It’s a long road, but each step should surely bring me closer to the future.

AI is not just a technological trend. It possesses the power to expand human intellect and creativity, and even to change the very fabric of society. To understand that power and be able to wield it — that is one major goal and hope I have found in this digital world.

Chapter 6: Writing and Earning

Parallel to my interest in programming, another resolution has begun to take clear shape within me. That is, to make a living by “writing.” Specifically, I aim to share my experiences and thoughts on a platform called Note and turn that into an income.

Why write? Perhaps it’s because, for me, writing is the most effective means of understanding myself. Even the chaotic emotions and thoughts swirling in my head seem to become somewhat organized when I put them into words and write them down. Words like “depression,” “hikikomori,” “unemployed 24-year-old,” which can sound negative, feel like they can be reframed as mere facts, or as my own unique story, when I retell them in my own words.

And to have someone read it. I feel there’s meaning in not just keeping it to myself for satisfaction, but in sharing it in the open space of the internet. My records might catch the eye of someone grappling with similar hardships, and they might think, “I’m not alone.” Or, someone in a completely different situation might feel their world expand just a little, thinking, “So, this way of living exists too.” I don’t want to have a grand impact. But if my existence can create even a small ripple in a corner of someone’s heart, that would make me happy.

I chose Note because it has a system for writing articles and monetizing them. Of course, I don’t think it will be easy to generate income. Although I’ve set a target of “300,000 yen a month,” it’s not hard to imagine how high a hurdle that is. With so many people publishing, for my writing to be read, for its value to be recognized, and for people to pay for it — that will be no mean feat. I must abandon any naive thinking.

Still, I want to try. All I can offer is my own experience and thoughts. Records of my daily meals, my mental and physical trial-and-error, my programming learning journey, and the scenery visible from a place off society’s beaten path. I will write these things honestly, without embellishment. That’s the only way I know how to fight my battles.

In the future, the programming skills I acquire might also be useful for this writing activity. I could create my own website or blog, not just relying on Note, to have a freer space for expression. Or, it might not be a dream to release some small web service based on my experiences. Writing and writing code — I imagine these two interacting within me, giving rise to new possibilities.

Writing, for me, is self-expression, an attempt to seek connection with others, and also a means to make a living. I am prepared for it to be a tough road. Nevertheless, with my own words, I want to build my own place in this digital world.

Part 3: Yearning for Freedom, a Path to the Lakeside

Chapter 7: Seeking Liberation from the Past

There’s something I strongly wish for right now. It’s to leave this place and start a new life in a new land. Why do I want to relocate? The reason isn’t just a desire for a simple change of environment. Deeper down, there’s a desperate yearning to be liberated from the shackles of the past.

The place I’m in now is, for better or worse, strongly tied to my life so far. Relationships with family, memories from school days, things that didn’t go well, expectations I couldn’t meet. I feel as if fragments of that past are always flickering in the scenery I see and the people I pass by. It feels like an invisible force is holding back my feet as I try to move forward.

Of course, I know that just changing physical locations won’t make the past completely disappear. My own memories and personality will follow me wherever I go. Still, I have this hope that by completely changing my environment, I can press a psychological reset button. A place where no one knows me, where I can exist as my current self without being seen through the filter of my past self. There, I might be able to breathe more freely, more lightly.

“I want to be free.” That feeling grows stronger day by day. Free from what? If asked, I might not be able to answer clearly. Societal expectations, the gaze of others, the limitations I’ve created for myself, and the clinging memories of the past. I want to distance myself from all of these things, just for once.

So, relocating isn’t just a simple move for me. It might be a kind of ritual to break away from my past self and start living anew as a new self. “Casting everything away” might be an exaggeration, but at the very least, I want to set down the heavy burdens I’ve carried throughout my life so far and become unencumbered. And then, with a fresh mind, I want to start a life where I can use my time solely for myself.

Is it escapism? Perhaps. But I now think that sometimes, running away is necessary. Facing things head-on isn’t the only form of strength. Moving to a safe place to protect and regenerate oneself — I want to believe that’s a valid strategy too. To be freed from the suffocation I’ve endured in this place and to spend my days with a calm heart — that is the greatest wish I entrust to this relocation.

Chapter 8: The Place I Aim For, By the Shores of Lake Shinji (Tentative)

There’s a place I vaguely picture as the setting for my new life. It’s around Matsue City in Shimane Prefecture, a town overlooking a large lake called Lake Shinji. If you ask me why there, I can’t explain all the reasons clearly. It’s just that several coincidences converged, and it became a place that captured my heart and won’t let go.

While browsing Japanese landscapes online, a photo of Lake Shinji at dusk caught my eye. The water’s surface was dyed crimson, and the silhouette of Yomegashima Island, floating in the lake, stood quietly. I was strongly drawn to that calm, somewhat melancholic, beautiful scene. It felt as if a leisurely time, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, was flowing there.

Of course, a single photograph doesn’t tell you everything about a place. If I actually lived there, there would likely be aspects different from my imagination. Harsh realities might even await. Nevertheless, the desire to live in a place overlooking that lake doesn’t fade. Days spent gazing at the vast lake scenery, away from muddled thoughts and a daily life driven by anxiety. That, to me now, seems like the most luxurious time imaginable.

If the relocation materializes, I first want to thoroughly use my time “solely for myself.” Without worrying about anyone, waking up at my own pace, eating, strolling, reading books, writing code, and penning articles. Not doing anything special, just quietly facing my inner self amidst the gently flowing time.

Strolling along the lakeside, borrowing books from the local library, drinking coffee at a small café. A life where I can find modest happiness in such everyday occurrences. That’s the ideal image I entrust to the city of Matsue. It might just be a one-sided longing for a land I’ve never even visited. That’s why I’ve added “(Tentative)” to it.

However, by setting a specific place as a goal, I feel that my vague desire to relocate has taken on a slightly clearer outline. The calm surface of Lake Shinji, for me, is a symbol of freedom liberated from the shackles of the past and the new life that is about to begin. To make that scenery my everyday reality someday, I must now steadily accumulate what I can do, little by little.

Chapter 9: A Roadmap to a Fresh Start

Starting a new life by the shores of Lake Shinji. That is a big dream and a goal for me right now. However, just longing for it won’t change anything. To turn dreams into reality, a concrete plan and the diligent effort to put it into action are necessary. This is the roadmap to a fresh start that I have set for myself.

First, I need to deepen my information gathering. Rent prices around Matsue City, living expenses, internet environment. I also want to check if there are any support systems for new residents. Blogs and personal accounts of people who have actually relocated would also be helpful. It’s important to grasp a realistic image of life, not just ideals.

And the biggest challenge is earning a living. How will I achieve the target income of “300,000 yen a month” through my writing on Note and, in the future, my programming skills? This will likely be the steepest path. First, I need to continue publishing on Note and improve its quality, writing articles that readers will find valuable. Simultaneously, I must steadily advance my programming studies and explore ways to turn those skills into income. Perhaps, at first, I won’t even come close to the target amount. Nevertheless, by setting small income goals and clearing them one by one, I want to build up confidence and achievements.

Financial planning is also crucial. Relocation involves initial costs: moving expenses, contract fees for a new home, and living expenses for the time being. How will I cover these? I need to calculate specific amounts and create a savings plan. This is by no means easy for me, but it’s an unavoidable path to achieving my goal.

This roadmap will certainly not be smooth. There might be times when I feel like giving up midway. There will surely be many things that don’t go according to plan. Still, by drawing a concrete path, I feel that my vague wish to “relocate” is transforming into a firm will to “relocate.”

The scenery of Lake Shinji is still distant. But if I keep moving forward, even one step at a time, I should definitely be able to reach it someday. Believing in that day, I face my keyboard today, write code, and pen this very article. This is a promise I have made to my future self.

Conclusion: The Search Continues, But I Move Forward

Up to this point, I have written about my current situation and my thoughts towards a fresh start from here. Rereading it, what I see is by no means a cool figure. Struggling with depression, off society’s rails, living a reclusive life. Yet, within that, the modest joys I’ve found, the small hopes for the future, and the will to keep trying to move forward, even while struggling — that is my “as-is” self right now.

I don’t know if this record will be helpful to anyone. But if there’s anyone who has read this, and if there’s something I want to convey, it might be that “it’s okay not to be perfect.” Things not going well, moments of stagnation, feeling pathetic about oneself — all of these, I think, are part of one’s own story.

My search will continue. My writing on Note, my programming studies, my relocation plans — they have all just begun. I’m sure I’ll hit many walls, get lost, and feel down many times. There’s no guarantee that my “depression” or “hikikomori” state will dramatically improve.

Nevertheless, I have decided not to stop walking. I will listen to the voices of my mind and body, cherish small discoveries, and strive to acquire new skills. And I believe that someday, by the shores of Lake Shinji, feeling the gentle breeze, the day will come when I will write the continuation of this record.

This is not the story of someone special. It is the record of a single human being, living earnestly, albeit awkwardly, in a corner of society. If this writing has, even for a moment, touched someone’s heart, there is nothing that would make me happier. My journey has only just begun.