At the very start of the film, a sickly Tony Stark, stuck in the empty void of space, leaves a dying message for his beloved Pepper Potts. Many people who live with illness, physical or mental, have contemplated this message. “If I died tonight, what is the final thing I would say?” Although the circumstances are all different, the sadness is universal.

When Nebula tries to help Tony, he says, “I’m fine,” even though he clearly is not. He repeats this again when he is hooked up to an IV, reunited with the Avengers. This idea of lying about being fine is reiterated throughout this film. Thor says it to Hulk when Bruce finds him depressed and intoxicated. In another scene, Steve surprises Natasha and says he came “to see a friend.” Nat responds, almost through tears, “Clearly, your friend is fine.” I sat in the audience thinking, How many times have I done this? How many times have I lied about being fine? Watching Rhodey’s concern for Nat, and Steve’s concern for Nat, made me realize how much of myself I see in the hero played by Scarlett Johansson. It is much easier to distract ourselves with helping others than it is to be vulnerable and honest with ourselves when we need help.

In another part of that scene, Nat tells Steve, “If you’re about to tell me to look on the bright side of things, I’m about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich.” I felt this in my soul. I can’t tell you how many times people have told me to cheer up, look on the bright side or that happiness is a choice. Although our heroes end up rewinding time, I want to make this clear: In real life, sometimes, there is no bright side. Sometimes awful things happen, and it just sucks. I think when a person tells you to look on the bright side, it’s often a coping tool for them because they do not know what to say. Sometimes just having someone there, so you are not alone in your hardest moments, is enough.

So much of the healing done in this film revolves around being vulnerable. I watched our superheroes put their armor down, both physically and mentally, and be the most vulnerable versions of themselves. I watched this bleak world they found themselves stuck in, and how purposeless they felt. I know this feeling. If you asked my therapist the one word I use the most in therapy, it would probably be “stuck.” That is exactly what they were. A nightmare you can’t get out of? That sounds like depression.

I watched the group-therapy scene featuring Steve and a cameo from director Joe Russo, as Russo talks about a date he had where the man cried, and so did he. I oddly didn’t feel sadness. I felt relief. How great to be able to be honest and cry in front of someone and have them cry alongside you (and ask you on another date). This was one of the most vulnerable moments in the film. It reminds me that, even in the most seemingly embarrassing and saddest times of our lives, we can find companionship. Steve replies, saying “You did the hardest part. You took the jump, and you didn’t know when you were gonna come down.” To me, that’s life with depression. We don’t have the luxury of freezing time. We don’t have the luxury of waiting for things to get better. We have to get up and continue on with the day, despite tremendous pain or loss. We must find purpose.

Perhaps the character who struggles the most with finding purpose is Thor. We meet him again when he has buried himself in booze, completely isolated from his people. Thor is suffocating in extreme guilt. At one point, he begs Tony to let him use the Gauntlet just so he can be useful. Even if it means he dies, he just wants to be useful.

To watch Thor, the God of Thunder, repeatedly cry was healing. He’s cried before, but I selfishly always want to see more men in media cry. Crying doesn’t make him any less of a man. If anything, it makes him a man. He is us. He is relatable. I don’t relate to being a super-powered god. I relate to feeling regret. I relate to feeling like I have no control. I relate to being scared to try again. Trying again means you can get hurt again. Why give us hope when it can be taken away? But trying again also means things can get better. One of the best things I learned in therapy is to not think in absolutes. “I will never get better.” Is this true? How do I know it’s absolutely true? I don’t know the future. I’m not Doctor Strange. It’s possible it can get better. Depression makes it difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am lucky to have people in my life who see the light, even when I don’t. For Thor, this was Bruce.

Our Hulk, Bruce Banner, comforts Thor, saying “You’re in a rough spot. I’ve been there myself, and you know who helped me out of it? You.” I watched this scene of two hulked-out men essentially saying, It’s OK to cry. I got you. You can do this.

Out of everyone, I am proudest of Bruce’s evolution. He and the Hulk are now one. When the remaining Avengers ask him about this, he says he used to see the Hulk as a disease. I know how this goes. Like Bruce, I have spent years of my life resenting parts of myself. Bruce knows depression very intimately. In the first Avengers film, he admits that he tried to commit suicide. He says he put a bullet in his mouth, and Hulk spit it out. If he had killed himself, he never would have known how strong he would be now. How, one day, he would reconcile the very thing he hated so much about himself. In Endgame, when Bruce is nervous about the time machine, Nat points out that he became one with Hulk, saying “You pulled this off. I remember a time that seemed pretty impossible.” I felt that about my own healing. With depression, we often forget to stop and take stock of our own progress.

We also got more screen time for Nebula, one of the most tormented souls in the MCU. Here we have a character who feels like her brain is broken, like she has no control over her own thoughts. I know that feeling. She believes she must prove herself to someone who repeatedly hurts her. She is trapped in an abusive situation, and when Gamora points out that 2014 Nebula can change, she responds hopelessly, “He won’t let me.” Thanos is death. Thanos is depression. He is every terrifying thought you have ever had about not being good enough, that you are only delaying your failure. He taunts the Avengers, saying “I am inevitable.”

And yet, he was defeated. Yes, death is inevitable, and depression can make it feel like it is constantly knocking at our door. But life is worth holding onto. It’s worth fighting for. Just because we can’t see our purpose at the moment, does not mean it isn’t there. As someone with depression, I can tell you there were so many days I didn’t want to be around. And yet I watched these characters who want nothing more than to get another day, just one more day, with the ones they loved. How many of my days have I taken for granted? This film made me revisit my own mortality and, in many ways, be thankful for my progress and the days I have made it. You, reader—and I—have survived 100 percent of the worst days of our life. And we are here. Perhaps I am closer to these heroes than I realize. I know that throughout the course of 22 films, these superheroes have defeated countless villains, but their vulnerability in this movie is one of the bravest things they have ever done.