Negativity gave me strength.

During the Covid period, I was seeing two psychologists and one psychiatrist. Life had thrown me so many curveballs that my depression worsened significantly. I isolated myself at home for a whole year, not stepping outside or speaking to anyone. I remember talking to my psychologists, but they mostly just listened in silence, offering no real advice. There were days when I would break down in tears, sharing the depths of my inner struggles, but as I cried, the therapist would gently say, “Time’s up, see you next week.” Their schedules were packed, and sometimes I had to rush straight from therapy to lead a brainstorming session at Google as a designer. I would wipe away my tears and put on the brightest smile, forcing myself to be positive for my team because they needed that energy to collaborate. I pushed through, even though inside, I was broken.

After the meetings, the smile would vanish as quickly as it came, and I’d lock myself in my room, staring at the wall, questioning how my life had reached this point. Things only got worse. My psychiatrist recommended I take anti-depressants, and it was a long process of trial and error to find the right medication. My body felt like a test subject—one month I would try one drug, only to feel completely drained and filled with uncontrollable anger. I became someone I didn’t recognize. In meetings, I couldn’t control my emotions or reactions, and afterward, I would cry so hard, feeling like I was losing my mind.

There was a moment of quiet, alone in my room, with my hair and beard grown out, staring at myself in the mirror, feeling like I had hit rock bottom. I asked myself: Is this it? Am I still the Vinh I used to be? I had lived my life to the fullest, traveled the world, and achieved so much… but is this the end? My health was deteriorating, my emotions out of control—what was the point of anything anymore? The house, the car I loved, relationships, family—none of it seemed to matter when I couldn’t even control myself.

Every day, I walked around like a ghost, with no hope left. My mind repeated over and over: Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m the problem.

I stared at myself in the mirror and said, “I hate your life.” At that moment, I wished the mirror could speak back, reassuring me that it wasn’t true. That longing for a voice of comfort sparked the idea for Murror. The word “Mirror” reflected how I felt—“I don’t like myself.” But I wanted to shift the perspective, replacing the “I” with “U.” Instead of mirroring my inner doubt, it would say, “U are better than you think.” With my background in AI, I transformed my frustration with medication and therapy into a solution—a product that could provide the kind of support I had been searching for but never found.

One day, I shared this idea with my psychiatrist, and they laughed, thinking I’d lost my mind. But I worked tirelessly, day and night, not thinking about anything else, as if I was searching for my own light in the darkness. I came across a Facebook group called “Flex ??n h?i th? cu?i cùng,” where everyone seemed to be living such beautiful lives. And I thought, what about me? Is this the end of my story? In just 10 minutes, I wrote my first post to that community in Vietnam, and that’s how people started to know about me.

It wasn’t about marketing myself—I was just desperate at that point. But the post led to thousands of messages from people sharing similar stories. Journalists flooded in with interview requests, and many took my story and images without permission, writing their own versions of my life. It impacted me in ways I wasn’t prepared for, but amidst all that, I realized I had inspired many. Some people found hope in my words and changed their outlook on life.

Gradually, I stopped feeling alone. I realized that many others were going through the same struggles, and they began to live more positively just by reading my post. That’s when I understood—this is my purpose. To help young people discover self-love.

Two years later, when we tested the beta version of Murror, 80% of users felt confident and satisfied with the app’s value, and some even cried while using it. It felt like I had achieved something small but meaningful in this long journey, and I’m incredibly proud, even though this is just the beginning.

But the most beautiful realization is that even at the lowest point of my life, I was still able to create change—by persevering, stumbling, but never giving up. Everything will be okay if we keep trying. There is always light at the end of the tunnel, and pain can inspire transformation. Each of us has our own path in this world, but I’m here, and I created Murror with the hope that I can do something small to ensure you never feel as lost as I did—and that you always love yourself.

Have a wonderful weekend, my friend, and enjoy your life—whether it’s filled with joy or sadness.

If you are interested in learning more about: Murror.app