I WANT TO DIE BUT I WANT TO EAT TTEOKBOKKI

Born in 1990, Baek Sehee studied creative writing in university before working for five years at a publishing house. For ten years, she received psychiatric treatment for dysthymia (persistent mild depression), which became the subject of her essays, and then I Want to Die, but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki, books one and two. Her favorite food is tteokbokki, and she lives with her rescue dog Jaram.

“At once personal and universal, this book is about finding a path to awareness, understanding, and wisdom.” –Kirkus Reviews

“Honest and authentic throughout . . . A sincere attempt at self-discovery that will resonate with young people who suffer from similar forms of depression and anxiety” –Library Journal

“Candid . . . heartfelt . . . Sehee’s mission to normalize conversation about mental illness is an admirable one.” –Publishers Weekly

“A testament to the gradual nature of therapy’s cumulative healing effects, I Want to Die should resonate with anyone who eagerly transcribes every nugget of advice they get.” –Buzzfeed

“Earnest . . . clever . . . [Baek Sehee] uses months of (real) transcripts from her therapy sessions to explore her own depression and anxiety, always tiptoeing toward something like selfawareness.” –Chicago Tribune

“An eye-opening view into a person’s most vulnerable moments in a new way.” –Cosmopolitan

Prologue

‘If you want to be happy, you mustn’t fear the following truths but confront them head-on: one, that we are always unhappy, and that our sadness, suffering and fear have good reasons for existing. Two, that there is no real way to separate these feelings completely from ourselves.’

 – Une parfaite journée parfaite by Martin Page

This epigraph is one of my favourite bits of writing, one I often go back to. Even in my most unbearably depressed moments I could be laughing at a friend’s joke but still feel an emptiness in my heart, and then feel an emptiness in my stomach, which would make me go out to eat some tteokbokki – what was wrong with me? I wasn’t deathly depressed, but I wasn’t happy either, floating instead in some feeling between the two. I suffered more because I had no idea that these contradictory feelings could and did coexist in many people.

Why are we so bad at being honest about our feelings? Is it because we’re so exhausted from living that we don’t have the time to share them? I had an urge to find others who felt the way I did. So I decided, instead of aimlessly wandering in search of these others, to be the person they could look for – to hold my hand up high and shout, I’m right here, hoping that someone would see me waving, recognise themselves in me and approach me, so we could find comfort in each other’s existence.

This book is a record of the therapy I received for dysthymia, or persistent depressive disorder (a state of constant, light depression). It’s also full of personal and sometimes pathetic details, but I’ve tried to make it more than just a venting of my dark emotions. I explore specific situations in my life, searching for the fundamental causes of my feelings so I can move in a healthier direction.

I wonder about others like me, who seem totally fine on the outside but are rotting on the inside, where the rot is this vague state of being not-fine and not-devastated at the same time. The world tends to focus too much on the very bright or the very dark; many of my own friends find my type of depression baffling. But what’s an ‘acceptable’ form of depression? Is depression itself something that can ever be fully understood? In the end, my  hope is for people to read this book and think, I wasn’t the only person who felt like this; or, I see now that people live with this .

I’ve always thought that art is about moving hearts and minds. Art has given me faith: faith that today may not have been perfect but was still a pretty good day, or faith that even after a long day of being depressed I can still burst into laughter over something very small. I’ve also realised that revealing my darkness is just as natural a thing to do as revealing my light. Through my very personal practice of this art, I hope I can find my way into the hearts of others, just as this book has found its way into your hands.

A Letter from the Author

To the readers of the English edition,

Four years have passed since I published my first book. This very personal story, which I wondered if anyone would ever bother reading, has appeared in seven Asian languages and is now getting ready to come out in English. A fascinating turn of events, and not a little intimidating. Because for all the positive feedback I’d received, there was quite a lot of critical takes as well. My desire to speak freely of my mental suffering was matched only by my desire to hide myself from it all. I doubt if I could ever again be as candid in a book as I was in this one.

I hope there are points of connections between you and me between these two covers. And my desire to be of help and consolation is as powerful as ever.

Finally, I wish to leave you with some words that I find myself returning to repeatedly whenever I feel myself growing weak. They’re from an overseas reader of unknown gender, nationality, or appearance (I’ve never met them), and they’re also the words I wish to say to you, the people reading this book.

I love and cherish your story. And I am your friend.