Baek Sehee and her book, ‘I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki’, is a mirror held up to the quiet pain so many people live with but rarely talk about. In this deeply personal and vulnerable work, the South Korean author chronicled her own experiences with dysthymia, or persistent depressive disorder, through candid therapy sessions and reflections. Her words resonated around the world because they felt honest and unfiltered, giving voice to the struggles that often stay hidden behind polite smiles.
The title itself captures the paradox of being alive, wanting to give up, yet still wanting something simple, comforting, and familiar. It is a gentle acknowledgment that despair and desire can coexist. Baek Sehee’s gift was her ability to articulate this contradiction in a way that made readers feel seen.
The Power of Speaking About Mental Health
In a society where talking about mental health can still feel taboo, Baek’s openness was revolutionary. She invited readers into her therapy sessions, letting them witness her doubts, insecurities, and gradual steps toward healing. By doing so, she helped normalize therapy and the idea that seeking help is not a sign of weakness, it’s a step toward self-understanding.
Her conversations with her therapist showed that healing is not a straight road. There are relapses, moments of frustration, and days when nothing seems to change. Yet, through those ups and downs, she demonstrated the quiet courage it takes to keep showing up both for therapy and for life. Baek’s story reminds us that even when the darkness feels overwhelming, talking about it is the first step toward light.
Breaking Generational Silence
Beyond her personal experiences, Baek’s story touches on something universal: the burden of generational silence. Many of us inherit unspoken rules from our parents and grandparents to stay strong, to keep our emotions to ourselves, to not question the way things are. These lessons, while meant to protect us, often become chains that keep us from expressing pain or seeking help.
Baek’s writing breaks that cycle. She shows that acknowledging our mental health struggles is not selfish or shameful, it’s a way of healing not just ourselves, but our families and future generations. By daring to say “I’m not okay,” she opened the door for others to do the same. In a culture where stoicism is prized, her vulnerability was a radical act of self-compassion.
Her Untimely Passing and Enduring Legacy
Tragically, Baek Sehee passed away on October 16, 2025, at the age of just 35. The cause of her death has not been made public, but in her final act of generosity, she chose to donate her organs, saving the lives of five people. Even in death, she embodied the compassion and empathy that defined her writing. Her passing was met with an outpouring of grief from readers around the world, people who saw themselves reflected in her words, who found comfort and courage in her honesty.
Her death is a heartbreaking reminder of how fragile life can be, but also how deeply one person’s words can touch others. Baek Sehee may be gone, but her voice continues to echo in countless conversations about mental health, vulnerability, and healing. Her book remains a safe space for anyone who feels unseen, unheard, or alone in their pain.
Why Her Message Still Matters
Today, in a world that often demands constant productivity and perfection, Baek’s message feels more relevant than ever. Conversations about therapy and mental health are growing, but stigma still lingers especially in communities where emotional struggles are misunderstood or dismissed.
Her story also reminds us that breaking cycles of generational trauma begins with honesty. It begins with saying the things our parents couldn’t say, with feeling the emotions they were taught to suppress. Healing is not about forgetting the past, but about choosing to face it with compassion.
The Heart of Baek Sehee and her Legacy
Baek Sehee once said that she wrote her book because she wanted to help even one person feel less alone. Judging by the millions who have found comfort in her words, she did far more than that. Her honesty gave language to the pain that so many couldn’t name, and her courage gave others permission to begin their own healing journeys.
Her passing is an immeasurable loss, but her work continues to remind us that it’s okay to ask for help, to be vulnerable, and to keep choosing life even on the hardest days. I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki remains not just a book, but a quiet companion for anyone struggling to hold on.
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