You're Not Depressed, You Just Feel Blah

Just like many people, I hid my depression from everyone to begin with. I still hide it from some because I know they'll somehow blame themselves for it. And no, it's not their fault.

At first, I tried to hide it from myself. It seemed like anyone who had a bad day was declaring on social media that they had severe depression. Then, a few days later, they'd talk about how they were all better and had overcome a major mental illness faster than the common cold.

I didn't want to sound a false alarm. I didn't want any extra attention. Hell, I didn't want to be depressed. I had seen first hand what it did to a relative. Needless to say, I left behind friends who thought it was okay to fake it just to get attention and sympathy. No one who has ever seen or experienced depression would ever want to fake this.

The First Admission and "Diagnosis"

It was during a random conversation with my then boyfriend in the car that resulted in my first admission and diagnosis. He kept badgering me about what was wrong and why I couldn't just get over things like he did.

I kept trying to explain that it wasn't about getting over something. I was way past whatever was going on at the time. I was just extremely low and couldn't find any way to be happy even though I had plenty to be happy about. But, no, that wasn't a good enough explanation.

Finally, I blurted out, "I'm depressed." Until I spoke the words, I didn't realize how true they were. I wasn't just going through a simple low point. Feeling better was like being asked to do a burpee with an elephant on my shoulders.

There was a moment of silenced before he turned and told me, "You're fine. You're just feeling a little blah. I felt like that last week, but look at me now."

Sure, someone who's usually pretty happy and perky saying they're depressed might be a shock. So I tried again. His next response just pissed me off and made me realize it's not just the stigma of mental illness that keeps people quiet. It's the fact that many people just won't believe you.

Instead of being supportive and asking me why I thought I was depressed, he told me, "You can't be depressed. You're not only any medications and you're fine hanging out with people."

For the record, I wasn't fine hanging out with people and he knew that. Social anxiety had already become a constant companion for months. His solution was to keep trying to find me friends for me and being surprised when I told him I wasn't interested.

I could just say he was a clueless boyfriend, but several friends had similar responses. Nope, I wasn't depressed. I wasn't on medication. I didn't have a therapist. I was just having a bad case of the blahs.

Don't The Blahs Ever End?

Everyone has had a case of the blahs before. Usually, it lasts anywhere from a day to maybe up to a month in a severe case. But, I was going on six months of feeling zero joy in my life. If I tried to fake it, I'd almost start to feel something akin to happy before I'd plummet even lower than before.

It'd been a few months since my first admission. So, I tried again. Nope, I still had the blahs. After all, his friend was super depressed and on three medications. She was depressed, not me. Sadly, she actually wasn't dealing with depression. She was just stressed out over college and blamed it on depression so her parents wouldn't hold her accountable. She only took one of the medications because it was a stimulate to help her study.

Coming To Terms With Reality

I always thought something major had to happen before depression shrouded you in its dark cloud. I was wrong.

I kept telling myself I was fine. I wasn't just another statistic of a generation that seemed more prone to mental illness than previous generations. I didn't want to lose myself and constantly use depression as an excuse for not reaching my full potential.

Suddenly, I had to face reality. I was depressed. Not only was I dealing with depression, but multiple other issues, namely anxiety and OCD.

I had to change the expectations I had for myself each day. I couldn't put myself down if I needed an extra hour in bed before getting up. I couldn't berate myself if I took twice as long to write an article for a client because my brain was too foggy to understand the research I was doing.

No, it wasn't easy to admit it to myself. Yet, it was easier to admit to myself than to others.

A Long Road Ahead

I'd like to tell you that coming to terms with reality and being kinder to myself has made all the bad stuff go away, but it hasn't. While I have gotten therapy, I've yet to take medications. Due to other health conditions, it's not safe for me to take most of the depression drugs available.

I've reached a level that's manageable for me, though. Some days are better than others and I'm functioning almost normally from the outside. On the inside, I still feel like a mess. I feel like I'm failing myself.

But, I've just got a multi-year case of the blahs, so I'm fine, right?

The truth is, I'll be fine, but depression isn't something that just goes away. It's a serious illness that no one asks for. And, if you don't have it, be grateful. But, please, don't tell someone they're not depressed. While they might not be, hear them out. Having that one person be supportive means the world.

I'd given almost anything if I'd found a supportive friend early on. Just being able to talk and not feel like an out of control freak might have made my early journey far less bumpy.

I'm writing this to make other people battling mental illness feel a little less alone. And, to let the friends and family of those people know that we need you. We need a shoulder sometimes. No, the way we feel doesn't make sense to you, but the way we feel is real and your support is just as important as any other treatment.