Highly functional but depressed people:

We often think that depression comes in a particular outfit and it’s easy to tell who is going through such a phase but the truth can never be further than that. At the peak of my depression, that is when I made the most money in my life. How did I do this? Well, I used work to escape from everything. When I was depressed at home, work became my refuge, my way out of the anxiety, the pain, and the stress. It was my way of proving my self-worth, that I was not a failure, that I was still good at something ……and so I gave it my all. When I put all my energies and focus into work, everything became OK, people affirmed me and my work and as a result, the money came in with its cousins and neighbours too.  

All was well, right? It was not. 

I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t understand it yourself. Besides, I thought I had everything we had been told that its acquisition was supposed to make someone happy……the career, the spouse, the children, the money, a nice home e.t.c, only thing is I was not happy at all. So I turned into prayer and fasting. You see I was a good Christian ( read-wife material). I played by the rules (well, most of the time), I was always on time for church, I tithed, went for bible study..…, and all I wanted in return and prayed for was just one small thing. I wanted God to change my spouse so that we could then live happily ever after. You see, according to yours truly, he was the problem. If only God could strike him with lightning and change him, then things would be perfect. I wasn’t even asking for much, was I? But God seemed to be dragging his feet in that department. 

Despite the endless prayers and fasts, nothing was moving on that front. So I turned to what my friends and I call. 'throwing money at your problems'. I started buying things to hide the pain; I went on a shopping rampage. I bought myself shoes, handbags, watches, dresses you name it……anything to dull the pain ( who doesn’t smile and feel good when strutting in a new pair of heels? Nobody, that’s who). No sooner these things started bringing issues at home because they were too much. So I started buying and hiding them. I did not how to stop, stopping would have made me crash. These things were my band-aids. When I put them on, I did not have to deal with the wound, I could go on and act like it never existed.

I did such a good job of pretending all was well that only a few people knew what was going on and I avoided them like the plague. Why? Because I did not want them to ask me how I was doing and then feel sorry for me, that would have only made me feel worse. 

The darkest day of my life happened to have fallen on the same day that I was to present the yearly accounts for our Chama having served as the F.D. Too many psychologically tiresome events had happened that week and I had not slept a wink the night before the meeting. However, by 6 am I was already up and sitted polishing the accounts. I walked into the meeting with red puffy eyes, excused myself, and told them I had a stomach bug and as a result, I had a lousy headache because I hadn't slept well. In reality, I was tired, my soul was weary. I had reached my breaking point but I was embarrassed. How could I have told them that as I stood there my world was falling apart? That I was in a dungeon of darkness and there was no way out? That I was drowning? That all I wanted was to fall asleep before everything fell apart? 

Where could I have even started explaining from? It was so much easier to say I was fine and leave it at that. But I was not fine. In the middle of the presentation, when I felt I was about to break into pieces, I would go to the bathroom, sit and cry my eyes out, then I would wash my face, put on some eye drops, and walk right back into the meeting like nothing had happened. Who cared anyway? Besides, everyone was so well put together, I did not want to be the odd one out, so I put my game face on but on the inside nobody was home...…