Put On A Smile

For as long as I have remembered, I've been different. For a long time, I thought it was related solely to my interests in relation to my family. They liked sports, I liked books. They were extroverted, I am hella introverted. But as I entered middle, I began to notice some changes that spanned beyond typical differences in opinions.

I had trouble getting up in the mornings, and not just because I didn't want to get up. I physically struggled to get up. School came easily to me, so there seemed to be no point in trying anymore. I didn't have the energy to complete my homework, as it seemed like a complete waste of time even though I knew it was meant to help me. I barely had to energy to even attend school, so I started skipping more and more in order to attempt to recharge and feel better.

I didn't know what was happening to me, but I knew that I couldn't let it continue. While I hadn't done amazingly in middle school, I had still managed to gain admission to a prestigious Catholic high school in the area despite my relative lack of effort in middle school. I knew that I had to step up my game. I knew college was the expected path for me, therefore I needed to step up my game and not fall into the same negative patterns that had characterized my middle school days.

Rather than let whatever was affecting my get in the way of my sleep, I began to push through it. You know the phrase "grin and bear it?" That was me. I got up every morning, went to school, did my homework, went to volleyball, and repeated the whole process.

The only problem? I was miserable. I was rarely happy. Doing schoolwork? I did it, but I wasn't pleased. Weekend plans? I set them, but I just prayed they would get cancelled. If they didn't, I'd go and be miserable on the inside. Getting ready in the morning? I went through the motions but just prayed for the day to end already.

You may be asking, "Aren't these normal symptoms of high school?" And yes, they are in small amounts. But to feel this way nearly everyday is not normal in any sense of the word. No one should be so miserable that every moment they are alive and doing something makes them wish they could die; yet that was how I felt.

I didn't understand why I felt this way. But no one seemed to notice how I felt. In fact, I was often praised for the work I did. I maintained good grades in school. I ended up being captain of the volleyball team. I went out on the weekends with my friends and went to family outings. Everything I did made other people happy, but not me.

Once I entered college, I continued acting this way. I put on a front, pretending to live a happy life where I wasn't depressed and suicidal. One of my friends who is now my girlfriend said I was so good at acting okay and normal, she thought I was neurotypical for a large portion of the beginning of our friendship. So long as I was keeping on top of my work, that is what mattered. Who cared if I didn't take any pleasure from what I was doing on a daily basis? No one else seemed to notice, so why I should I care?

I kept this frame of thought until my sophomore year. That was the year I was under a tremendous amount of stress from classes and I found I couldn't handle it; I felt like I was cracking under the pressure. My friends weren't sure what to do. They had never seen me act this way and just ended up tiptoeing around me at the start.

One day, my friend showed me a post on tumblr that discussed the phrase high-functioning depression. She told me that she wanted me to read it before making judgements because it sounded a lot like me. I was skeptical at first, but I trusted my friend, so gave her the benefit of the doubt.

As I read the post, I felt myself clicking with everything it was saying. It talked about acting normal and going through the motions of life without experiencing the typical joy or happiness that one expects. Every action you do is draining emotionally and sometimes physically, but you do it anyway.

I finished reading the post and paused. My entire life up to that point flashed before my eyes. I had high-functioning depression and never knew it. Since everyone had always been happy with what I was doing, I never stopped to question why I myself wasn't happy. That wasn't fair to myself. If you or anyone you know seems to be experiencing these feelings where they go through the motions of life without any joy or happiness, please have them seek professional help. No one should live a life without joy.