Disclaimer: This is an account of my own experience with depression. I have not officially been diagnosed, but I am familiar with the signs. I have been to therapy, and am in the process of picking that back up again. I have an appointment scheduled with my doctor to talk through next steps. I say all this so you as the reader know that I am doing what I can to take care of myself and so you know that I am not a mental health professional. I use writing to get my own feelings out and connect with others; it has helped me in more ways than I can say. If you are in any way triggered by reading about depression, please do not read this post. If you are struggling with your own mental health, please ask for professional help, I promise it does help.

I am fortunate enough to have been educated on many aspects of mental health and to have the health insurance and finances to go to therapy over the last few years. While I’m grateful for all these experiences, I was still not prepared for what depression could look like or feel like in my life.

While I am decently well-versed in mental health and advocate for it, depression has always kind of scared me. Unlike depression, I’ve had a lot of years to get comfortable with anxiety. Anxiety, at least in my mind, has less of a negative connotation than depression does. I fear depression because I don’t want to be a burden. I fear depression because I don’t want to worry people. I fear depression because I don’t want to worry myself. It feels like a terminal illness and something I will have to deal with for the rest of my life and that’s just not something I thought I signed up for.

I had my first memorable experience with depression a few years ago. I was afraid to admit it and mostly blamed my anxiety or other life circumstances (i.e. a worldwide pandemic, life changes, grief, etc.), but eventually I did recognize that it was depression I was experiencing. Since this moment, I have been able to better fight my own stigma against depression. Depression hasn’t been a big part of my life up to this point, which I’m thankful for, but recently it has hit me hard.

I know what signs to look out for when my depressive episodes begin to resurface. Isolation, doom scrolling, not doing the things I enjoy, not journaling, not exercising, etc. Sometimes I see the signs and I ignore them because I think I have it under control. And it is a lot easier to ignore them than to actually do anything about it. The thing I didn’t realize about depression, though, is that it would ultimately make me feel crazy.

I’m an anxious and overthinking individual. Pair that with depression and the result is constantly gaslighting myself into believing that I’m making everything up and I’m overreacting. I am very aware of how real depression is. I know it isn’t made up and I know that it is out of a person’s control. But me? The person who loves to control almost every aspect of their life? That can’t be true for someone like me. I should just be able to power through and keep going.

Wrong.

Depression, at least in this moment, is harder work than almost any experience with anxiety that I’ve had. It feels less tangible and less manageable than some of my experiences with anxiety. But maybe that’s also because I’ve learned how to cope and live with my anxiety.

Depression heightens my anxiety so that I get the pleasure of dealing with both at the same time. It has caused me to cry at almost anything at any time. It has caused me to dissociate and stop caring about the things I logically know I love and care about. It tries to convince me that I shouldn’t reach out to anyone because I will be a burden and because I’m ultimately overreacting. It has caused me to go from high highs down to low lows in an instant. It has felt, at times, like it has leveled out my anxiety, making me question if depression isn’t all bad as its apathy has provided relief from my worry.

Depression exhausts me to my core and makes me want to sleep all the time. It has stripped away my concentration and focus and left my memory to falter. It makes me feel alone and lonely and like this will never get any better. It makes me question my identity and who I actually am. It makes me wonder if I’m the problem and I just need to fix these parts of myself. It makes me miss a time when I was genuinely joyful and carefree and wonder if that time ever truly existed or will ever exist again.

Depression calls in anxiety attacks for back up. Depression tag teams with overthinking to make me feel like I’m oversharing any time I open up about what I’m going through. Depression feeds into my insecurities and makes me feel like I’m not enough.

I can feel myself fall into an anxiety attack and negative thoughts because then it at least means I’m feeling something. And if I’m feeling something that means it is real and I wasn’t making it up. If I can feel the pain maybe that means it can be fixed or controlled. But the pain is exhausting and the mental wear is more than I’d like to handle.

These are the very real, every day symptoms I have experienced off and on with depression. Like a toxic relationship I can’t seem to part with. Even as I write this I wonder if I’m making it all up. Especially considering at this point in time I am self diagnosed until I am able to see my doctor. I wonder if I’m over-exaggerating. I wonder if I’m too quick to panic and everything will be fine again tomorrow. But again, I believe that is my depression and anxiety at work trying to convince me everything is fine and I just need to do better, work harder.

The reality, though? The reality is I need help. That I’m not alone. And that I shouldn’t battle any of this alone. I’m thankful for the logical part of my brain because somehow its voice is fighting to be heard in the midst of this darkness. It’s using everything it has to scream to me that I am not ok. It has urged me to reach out to friends and family when all I wanted to do was sit alone and cry. It gave me enough motivation and energy to call my doctor and schedule an appointment to talk about getting on medication when I have been so resistant to do so. It continues to tell me that while nothing is inherently wrong with me and everything I’m going through is not uncommon, that I don’t have to live like this anymore; that I can get help to manage these symptoms instead of suffering through them.

When my own voice is incapable of telling me what is fact over fiction, the voices of my family jump in to reassure me that I’m not difficult to love, that I can lean on them, that I’m loved no matter what state I’m in, and that none of that will ever not be true. They are the ones who have consistently shown up for me during this time and I couldn’t be more grateful.

I have been so worried about going back to the dark place I was once in a few years ago when I first recall truly experiencing depression. And now that it is back and in bigger force than it ever was, I realized that I will never actually be back in that place again. Because I’m a different person than I was then. I have grown and learned so much more about myself and about my mental health. I have taken the steps to get help and have learned how to better love myself. Everything I have done between then and now has only helped me better identify when I am depressed, when I need help, and has helped me to better cope throughout the entire process. While I do believe I need more help to battle the depression I am currently in, I also believe that it would be so much worse without everything I have learned and worked on over that last few years.

My negative self-talk is still not great, but I am able to challenge it a lot more than I ever used to. My depressive symptoms and signs are all still there, and arguably worse than they ever have been, and yet I know, and have actively used, many tools to work through each challenging moment. They don’t all always work; it’s not a magic fix as much as I want it to be. But I am proud to recognize that while this time feels worse, which makes it feel scarier, it also feels different than the last time. I am really proud of how far I’ve come, no matter how far I still have to go. And there is no shame in still needing more help, even if at times my depression, anxiety, and pride have tried to tell me otherwise.

So, in a sense, I already know what I need to do to work through this. But depression makes it really difficult to actually do the things you need to do to get better. While this may not be true for everyone, what I need right now is for the people close to me to just love me through it. Be there to sit in silence or talk to me about anything you want, even if I may not be the most entertaining person at the time. Because, believe me, all I want to do is be there for you but depression has taken over my mind. Listen without judgement and believe me when I share the things I’m going through. Encourage me to keep going, but not pressure me to feel like I’m doing something wrong or not doing enough. Because getting out of bed, keeping myself healthy and alive, getting to work and doing my job, is hitting my capacity. And all I really want is a reminder that I can’t push everyone away, that I’m not a burden, that I’m loved and it isn’t difficult, and that just because I’m not doing well doesn’t mean it will define me for the rest of my life. This feels selfish of me to ask, but one day I hope I can be that for someone else.

I’m grateful for the days my mind gets a respite from depression and experiences moments of joy. I’m thankful to live in place where I can talk about this and share my experiences. I’m thankful that our society is getting better at openly talking about mental health. I share all of this so I don’t feel alone and so I can do something with all these feelings that are building up inside of me. And hopefully along the way someone will read it and feel a little less alone and a little more seen and heard. My friends and family who have shared their own stories battling mental health struggles have truly been inspiring and have helped me in more ways than they might realize.

I don’t know what my doctor will say and if medication will help in my situation. I don’t know what the next few days or weeks will look like in regard to my mental health. What I do know is that many people find success on medication and the first step is to ask about it. I do know that I’m not alone in this process despite my anxiety and depression telling me every moment I am. I do know that I won’t feel this way forever, although it does feel that way in this moment. I know that asking for help and sharing my story makes me strong and not weak, even though it feels anything but. I know that I am loved, even if my mind is telling me otherwise. I know that I will be ok, even if I’m not ok right now. And I know that one day the light will shine through this darkness. In the meantime, no matter how hard it will be be, I will lean on my family and friends to shine that light for me until I can see it for myself.

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Read below a few poems I have written during my time living with depression.