When I first joined a company, I was always bright and proactive.
I would push forward saying, "I'll do anything," and people would say, "We've got a good person here."
However, as the work became more serious and the number of tasks I had to do alone or situations where I had to act independently increased, I suddenly became unable to report, contact, or consult, and I spoke less.
As a characteristic or common point of people prone to depression:
"They are unusually energetic only at the beginning of a new workplace."
I didn't realize it at the time, but the reason I overextended myself with a strange brightness at first was the flip side of a lack of confidence.
The fear that I wouldn't be accepted as I was came first. So, I tried to secure my place by acting like a "capable person."
But that act doesn't last long.
When my true self—someone who is clumsy and slow to learn—begins to be exposed, I worry, "Is it okay to ask something like this?" and blame myself, thinking, "How can I not even know this?" The gap between the false image I first created and my real self takes away my words.
The more you overextend yourself, the deeper the fall.
I suffered from this throughout my 20s.
However, as I struggled through it, I found two ways to escape this suffering.
① Maintaining a Listening Posture
Instead of trying to say something yourself, maintain a "listening posture" from the start.
Listening was not passive; it was a healthy form of activity that allowed me to engage without overextending myself.
However, there may be people who are already suffering in the workplace from the gap between the false image they created and their real self, and are unable to move. I was, in fact, one of them. In such cases, the following was effective.
② Listening to Your Own State First
For a long time, I perceived the inability to report/contact/consult and the decrease in speaking as communication issues. I thought I was bad at socializing. But I was wrong.
The issue was not in "how I relate to others," but in "how I relate to myself."
While repeating cycles of depression and adjustment disorder, I continued to evaluate myself as "useless." I had a deep sense of inferiority.
So, I felt I had to at least be bright. I thought I shouldn't hold anyone back. Without checking what was happening inside me, I was just getting through the moment, thinking only about not causing trouble.
After realizing this, I made it a point to report to myself first—before reporting to anyone else—about "what I don't understand right now," "what made me anxious," and "what I couldn't say." It's like an image of listening to and observing my own current state first.
I used to write these things down in a notebook.
I would write them down as specifically as possible—the scene at the time, my physical state, what I thought, etc. For example, "I trembled during that meeting and couldn't explain well."
By writing it out like that, the problem becomes limited to "that scene." When the scope narrows, it's easier to handle.
"Next time, I'll make notes before speaking" or "If I anticipate what will be asked, the trembling might not happen"—a next step naturally became visible.
Listening to your own voice is not about affirming yourself. It's about not ending with "I'm useless" and dealing with yourself a little more carefully.
When you can listen to your own voice, you create margin in your head and heart. Only when that margin exists can you calmly listen to others without having to be unusually bright. You stop falling into despair through over-interpretation or becoming afraid by imagining things that weren't even said.
Have you been able to listen to your own voice lately?
