The Face of Depression: Behind Closed Doors
What does depression look like? Simply put, it looks “normal.”
It looks “healthy.”
My depression looks like a genuine smile. It sounds like gut-wrenching laughter. It smells fresh and clean from a recent shower. It appears organized during my daily work tasks & and responsibilities.
I made it my mission to make others smile, hoping to give them the happiness I desperately wanted but didn’t have.
For some people, depression may look well-rested & and refreshed, or in contrast?—?it could appear tired or restless. If you were looking at two drastically different appearances, well-kept and unkempt, you wouldn't be able to determine which one of the individuals was depressed.
Honestly, depression could manifest in anyone. It could afflict the most successful CEO or the last one on the chain of command as a custodian. Depression could live in a mansion or be homeless. It could be the one everyone loves or the one everyone hates. I won’t go on because I’m sure you get the gist by now. Essentially, depression does not discriminate - it can affect anyone.
No race, gender, socioeconomic status, culture, or religion is exempt from the claws of depression. For some, it may scratch the surface of the brain or emotions. For others, the claws dig in deep.
Though we see different people daily, we often fail to notice their inner struggles. For weeks, I masked my own depression behind a facade of normalcy that fooled even myself. Depression can be obscured by a veneer of order & composure. Having perfected "the look," I concealed my pain not just from others, but from my own awareness.
I would wake up every day & “put on a face.”
For a time, I denied my bouts of insomnia & my cycles of binge eating followed by not eating at all. I overlooked the aches, pains, & digestive issues. I ignored the chest tightness & rapid heartbeat, blaming them on my Red Bull addiction and excessive caffeine intake.
I lacked interest in life & social activities, attributing my apathy to fatigue from overworking and taking on too many tasks, which also caused diminished concentration and memory lapses.
The word "depression" was not mentioned until I began frequently visiting the emergency room and missing work, realizing something was clearly wrong.
The death of my grandmother in 2012 shook me deeply. At that same time, I was emotionally & mentally exhausted by the extreme views of my former church, whose cult leader slandered & defamed me when I was just 19 years old for being pregnant, turning the entire community against me.
Being married to an abusive ex-husband had a profoundly negative impact on me. I became overwhelmed by feelings of exhaustion, loss of appetite, unexplained weight loss, excessive sleep, constant headaches, & an inability to concentrate. My health & work performance suffered tremendously. It was a downward spiral that I could not escape.
While not the only factor, my ex-husband's actions contributed significantly to my physical ailments, exacerbating existing issues and pushing me past my breaking point.
His presence suffocated me, making it hard to breathe. Whenever he got close, the hairs on my arm stood on end. To avoid him, I slept as much as I could, often using my 11pm to 7am nursing schedule as an excuse.
I thought the best way to avoid my feelings was to sleep through them, but I failed to realize those feelings would remain when I awoke.
Once again I found myself in the emergency room, explaining the same symptoms to a new doctor. The results were always the same - normal lab work & unremarkable test results. I grew weary of hearing "everything looks fine," when I knew from my own body that something was wrong.
Though I sensed something was amiss, depression never crossed my mind. In retrospect, I exhibited all the clinical symptoms. I recall feeling offended by the diagnosis, partly because the cult leader & my former pastor had instilled in his followers the belief that a devout or spiritual person would never suffer from depression or have a nervous breakdown. Additionally, I took offense because, for whatever reason, I believed depression could never affect me personally.
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My depression was not mine alone. It belonged to all those around me. Everything I felt and everything I did impacted others—my parents, my partner, my child, my job. I was too preoccupied to wallow in my own despair.
I initially resisted accepting the diagnosis from the emergency room doctor, but a visit to my primary care physician confirmed it was accurate. I was prescribed an anti-depressant (citalopram) & anxiety medication (buspirone) & was officially diagnosed with mild depression with recurrent symptoms (F33.0) & generalized anxiety disorder (F41.1). This formal diagnosis felt like the final blow. Seeing it documented in my medical records made it feel permanent & inescapable. I hid my medication from my then-husband because I couldn't bear for him to know that his behavior had pushed me into mental illness.
I took the medications as prescribed by my doctor. Whether due to my living situation or the low dosage, they provided little relief. My doctor progressively increased the dosage, & I hoped the higher levels would finally end my depression. Unfortunately, that's not what happened. The depression didn't disappear but rather lingered in the background, creeping into my thoughts, feelings, sleep, diet, and focus. It continued to exert control over my life. I even turned to drinking, but that provided no real help.
I tried drinking, but that didn’t help.
Sleep offered only temporary relief from my depression.
Crying became tiresome without understanding its cause.
Journaling brought me some comfort by providing an outlet when I had no one else to confide in.
I quickly realized how little people grasped about mental health. The misconception around depression is the belief that one needs a reason for it. Depression is not just sad thoughts but pervasive low mood. It's not a choice to dwell on the negative.
While the reassurance "it will be okay" aims to help, it rings hollow without knowing when or for how long. Telling someone with depression to stop crying or not be sad is futile, like ordering a dog not to bark. It's the illness, not the person.
Robin Williams. Lee Thompson Young. Don Cornelius. Kate Spade. Mac Miller
Without much explanation, you are probably already aware of why their names are listed. These names illustrate depression's potential toll.
For some, depression is a beat. It holds with crushing force & refuses release. I've learned just to endure each moment, as days are too much. Some days are darker than others. What matters most is surviving, whatever it takes.
My battle is daily - against my mind, my body, my tears. Though I may lose some fights, I won't surrender to this war.
Per MayoClinic, clinical symptoms of depression may be:
If you have any of these symptoms or suspect that you are battling depression, contact your healthcare provider, counselor, or the Crisis Hotline.
"If you or someone you know is in immediate distress or is thinking about hurting themselves, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline toll-free at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). You also can text the Crisis Text Line? (HELLO to 741741) or use the Lifeline Chat" --National Institutes of Health