Dear mind, I mind.

When I was diagnosed with depression, I remember thinking it was no big deal—after all, it was just grief and sadness. Little did I know, depression was multi-faceted. It came as a package with its second cousins—anhedonia and personality changes.

I remember how much alive I felt before this “madness” hit me. I used to love the feeling of the morning sunlight on my face, I used to love dressing up and hanging out with people, and I used to devour books left, right, and center. Enter depression—I barely had the energy to get out of bed in the morning, I hated socializing, I struggled with the same book for a year, and I stopped enjoying everything I once loved.

It was then that my therapist labelled this loss of interest in everything as anhedonia.

What is Anhedonia?

The word is derived from the Greek word hēdonē, meaning pleasure, with the prefix an- meaning “without.” Put together, it literally means “without pleasure.” Anhedonia, simply put, is the inability to feel pleasure in otherwise pleasurable activities.

On a typical day, you feel pleasure, and you can distinguish between what you like and what you don’t—what you enjoy doing and what you absolutely despise. That’s because your brain’s reward system is working as it should, giving you little bursts of pleasure when you do something you like—whether that’s sipping your favorite coffee, laughing with friends, or hearing that one song that always lifts your mood.

With anhedonia, that system goes quiet. As a common symptom of depression, it strips away the emotional “spark” from your experiences, making you lose interest in things you once enjoyed. Things that were once fun aren’t as pleasurable anymore. Things that once made you happy hardly have any effect on you, suddenly making everything feel flat. The sights, the sounds, and the flavors are all still there, but the feelings that they used to evoke are not.

Anhedonia reduces the intensity of your positive emotions; in some cases, it can make a person completely numb to them, as if joy is something happening in another room that you can hear faintly but can’t quite reach.

Types of Anhedonia

Social Anhedonia—This is when spending time with others no longer feels enjoyable or rewarding. You used to look forward to Friday dinners with friends, chatting and laughing for hours. Now, the thought of going out feels exhausting, and even if you go, you feel disconnected—as if you’re just “there” but not really in it.

Physical/Sensory Anhedonia—The loss of pleasure from experiences that engage your senses, like food, music, or physical touch. Your favorite Arrabiata pasta, once a mouthwatering treat, now tastes bland. Watching the Marvel movie that used to give you goosebumps barely registers. Even a warm hug feels emotionally flat, like your body notices it but your heart doesn’t.

Motivational Anhedonia—A lack of drive to begin activities you used to enjoy, even if you know they usually make you happy. You used to love painting on weekends. Now, you keep staring at your art supplies in your cupboard, unable to muster the energy to get up, set things out, and start—so the brushes stay untouched for months.

These can either be anticipatory anhedonia—where you don’t expect to have fun (when in reality, you might or might not)—or consummatory anhedonia—where you don’t experience pleasure in the moment during the activity.

What causes anhedonia?

Let’s talk about dopamine. Whenever you do something that you like, dopamine, or the “happy hormone,” acts as a messenger telling your brain, “Hey, this feels good. Do more of it.” It’s what lights up when you eat your favorite dessert, hear a song you love, or share a laugh with friends.

Now, anhedonia is caused by the lack of activity in the brain’s ventral striatum, which contains the “pleasure center” that receives and produces dopamine. This means that the dopamine signal is weaker or less responsive. As a result, even if an activity is pleasurable, your brain may not register it the same way that it used to before.

With anhedonia, your system is like a faulty vending machine. Though you put your money in (the enjoyable activity), you never get your snack (the feeling of pleasure) as the machine doesn’t recognize the money. Over time, you might stop putting coins in altogether because you’ve learned not to expect a reward.

Depression and anhedonia?

Anhedonia is a common symptom of depression. According to the research conducted by the University of Bologna, up to 70% of people with depression experience anhedonia. Depression research shows lower dopamine release and fewer active dopamine receptors, meaning reward signals don’t reach full strength.

Also, depression often comes with weaker communication between the ventral striatum, the prefrontal cortex (decision-making, motivation), and the amygdala (emotion processing).

Additionally, in many people with depression, especially major depressive disorder (MDD), cortisol levels tend to be higher than normal. High cortisol can interfere with dopamine pathways and shrink connections between the ventral striatum and the prefrontal cortex. Without these strong links, even when the brain detects a potentially rewarding event, it doesn’t fully translate into motivation or pleasure.

Also, depression is sometimes linked to increased inflammation in the brain. Inflammatory molecules can interfere with dopamine production and reduce neuronal activity in the ventral striatum.

All these factors work together to dampen the brain’s reward system. Over time, if your brain keeps experiencing “flat” responses to activities, it learns not to expect pleasure—a process called reward learning impairment. This psychological effect can further suppress ventral striatum activity, even without a chemical cause.

This blunted response doesn’t just rob you of joy in the moment; it can reinforce withdrawal and isolation and create a feedback loop: low pleasure → less activity → deeper depression.

How to break the cycle?

Recovering from anhedonia isn’t about forcing yourself to “just be positive.” That approach can backfire, making you feel even more frustrated when joy doesn’t instantly return. Instead, focus on gentle, realistic steps that slowly nudge your brain’s reward system back into gear.

Gentle exposure to previously enjoyable activities

Start small. If you used to love reading, you don’t have to finish a full book—just pick up a book and read a page. If you loved hiking, begin with a 5-minute walk in your neighborhood. Even short exposures can start retraining your brain to re-engage with pleasure cues.

Physical movement

Light walks, gentle stretching, or dancing to one song can boost endorphins and improve blood flow to the brain. Physical activity also helps regulate cortisol levels, which may indirectly support dopamine pathways involved in pleasure.

Connecting with one supportive person

Socializing can feel overwhelming when you’re struggling. Instead of large gatherings, reach out to one trusted friend or family member—even if it’s just for a quick phone call or text exchange. The goal is connection, not performance.

Mindfulness or grounding exercises

Activities like deep breathing, guided meditations, or simply noticing five things you can see, hear, and feel can help anchor you in the present moment. Mindfulness can reduce rumination and make it easier to notice small, positive sensations.

Seeking therapy or medical help

Anhedonia often needs professional support, especially if it’s linked to depression, trauma, or other mental health conditions. Therapists can help you break patterns of avoidance, and psychiatrists can explore treatment options—including medications that target dopamine or serotonin systems.

Most importantly: It’s okay if joy doesn’t come back overnight. Healing the brain’s reward system can take weeks or months. Celebrate tiny improvements—a brief laugh, a moment of interest, or a few minutes of engagement—as signs of progress.

Conclusion

Anhedonia can feel like living behind glass—you can see life happening, but you can’t quite touch it. It can convince you that joy is gone forever, that you’re somehow broken. But it’s important to remember: this numbness is a symptom, not your identity.

Recovery isn’t about snapping your fingers and feeling happy again. It’s about taking small, consistent steps—sometimes so small they barely seem worth mentioning—that slowly coax your brain’s reward system back online. It’s about allowing the possibility that pleasure can return, even if it feels impossible right now.

With the right support, patience, and self-compassion, those shades of color start to seep back in—at first in faint strokes, then in fuller, richer tones. And sometimes, they reappear in places you least expect: the smell of rain, a quiet smile from someone you love, or a song you forgot you liked.

Healing is rarely linear, and there will be days when the colors feel faded again. But each small moment of interest, each flicker of enjoyment, is proof that your capacity for pleasure is still there—waiting to grow.