An Open Letter to My Parents Who Don't Understand My Mental Illness

To My Parents Who Don’t Understand My Mental Illness,

Ever since I was young, I’ve always been different, you both say this endlessly. I’ve always been different than the rest of the family. Honestly, I’ve always felt like a bit of a black sheep even among you guys and my brother. Something about me has always been off though; I didn’t process things the same way you guys did. I took everything a bit more personally, my moods were more unstable and I lashed out more, I was your “rebel kid,” and I’ve always been impulsive; but at the end of the day, I always seemed like a relatively happy-go-lucky girl as I should have been. I come from a family who can provide for me financially and I have been awarded so many amazing opportunities in my life that I am very thankful for, but still, there was always this emptiness inside of me.

There’s nothing you could have done to fix it when I look back at it. I had perfected my ways of hiding how empty I really felt and honestly, more often than not still feel. And although I knew I had all these amazing things happening in my life and around me and I had/have all these amazing people around me, I still just couldn’t shake the darkness that loomed over me. For years, I faked a smile I did everything I could think of to numb the part of myself that felt all this hurt, until I realized I couldn’t carry this burden on my own safely anymore. This is when I was formally diagnosed with major depression, also known as clinical depression.

I understand that this is a topic our family doesn’t really recognize as being a real problem in peoples lives. But for me, and in my life, this is something that is a reality and I feel as though it causes a large disconnect between us, which hurts me. Depression is a hard thing to talk about, and I can only imagine it being harder when it comes to having that conversation with your child. But I feel although it is important that you know some of the things you say about this to me hurt me. It’s not “the blues,” or feeling “sad.” It’s not me being dramatic or seeking attention like you may think Mom. It’s not me playing the victim because “the world is out to get me.” Depression is a serious thing and this is my way to express that to you the best way I know how, by writing it out.

Looking up depression on the internet will not help you understand what I’m feeling. When you put “depression” in the search bar it will pull up a long list of websites and words that do not fully encapsulate what I am feeling and experiencing in my head. Every website you go to will tell you the same thing, that it’s an “imbalance of brain chemicals that result in the feeling of dejection.” But what I feel is so much more than that. Sure, that may be what causes it, but I’m not sitting here feeling sadness and sadness alone. I’m feeling anger, hopelessness, rejection, guilt, emptiness, and so many other things that make every day a challenge to be myself.

In so few words, depression is like drowning. It feels like I’m in a pool surrounded by people but when I slip under the water people think that I’m just playing. As I splash and reach for help, they move away saying I’m being dramatic or making a scene. As I gasp for breath they finally ask if I’m okay, and with fear and pain in my eyes I reach out and scream for help but nobody can get to me fast enough because this is a drowning I can’t escape or save myself from. This drowning is passive, invisible. It happens silently, then all at once. It happens all in my head.

I wake up each morning and for a moment, I forget how last night I cried myself to sleep and my mind is silent for a moment. Then, everything sinks in and my brain sends me back into its cycle of self-hatred and depreciation. I am sick and you need to understand that. The thought of going out and being a part of the outside world causes me so much anxiety when it used to be something I greatly enjoyed and I can’t begin to explain why this is. All I know is that the only thing I ever want to do is lay in bed and sleep, and pull myself away and cease to exist in an actual existence until I can make sense of what is happening to and around me.

I guess what I’m trying to say with this is, it is time to have these discussions. It’s time for you to accept that this is me and not a phase or something that I’m going to beat. It’s something that I, myself, am still learning to deal with and work through because every day is different and evolving. You can’t act like this isn’t a part of who I am, because the fact of the matter is, it is. Depression is a part of me. I feel a lot of the time you just act like this isn’t a reality for me, which hurts and makes me feel disconnected as if you don’t care to learn or try to understand this big part of me. I often feel as though I am going through this journey alone because nobody has done anything to educate themselves on the subject matter and when I try to speak about it to you, I am hushed and silenced and the conversation is redirected to a different subject matter.

I don’t want you to think I’m saying you are bad people or parents for not understanding these things, because I know this is a tough topic to discuss but it should be because without discussion, how can we gain understanding? All I'm saying is that I need you to meet me on the level that I am at with dealing with my depression and all the demons that come along with it.

I love you both and I am thankful for everything you have ever done for me.

Sincerely,

Your Child With Depression