Why You Probably Wouldn't Know I Have Depression

People are often shocked to find out I have clinical depression. I’m usually the loud-mouth, fun-loving girl. The first one to be there for a friend at a drop of a hat. And the last one to say no to a good time.

They don’t see it, though. They don’t get to see the hair so tangled because running a brush through my hair feels like lifting a dead weight.

No one knows now that I work full-time, I feel as though I have no more energy for anything else.

They don’t see sometimes I’m too exhausted to eat.

Or that, even on my best days, I still feel as though I’m not doing enough.

But you know what? In a twisted way, I’m proud those around me don’t see it. That means I’m handling it well, right? Well, at least that’s what I think it means.

That’s not always the case. But I like to think it is. I was diagnosed two years ago with clinical depression. I now take medication for it every day.

Each day is a new piece of my story. And even though I find I’m more tired these days, I’m proud I’m still here to keep writing a new page.