Hiding My Depression in Plain Sight
Felt cute. May be hiding under my bed crying ugly tears later. IDK. Where’s the best place to hide when you have depression? In plain sight.
My husband says that I go through clothing phases. I had a black phase, a dots phase and my latest phase – loud bright prints. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” of course. At least, this is what he tells me.
But it was here in this moment with my hair curled, makeup perfected, loud jumpsuit on point, on a press trip full of cocktail parties and fancy dinners that I realized that I was hiding – all of the anxiety, stress and deep dark thoughts of hopelessness – but yet I could smile and carry on conversations and even laugh with ease. Little did I know that it was in this moment that I would break.
I am good at hiding. At least, this is what I tell myself. I thrive on making people believe that I am lively and fun to be around – when inside I’m crying bitterly in a fetal position. High functioning depression is what they call it. I googled it, so it must be true. The ability for everything to look like the highlight reel on social media, while inside everything is shutting down. This is my life, a duality of personalities. And to be honest it’s utterly exhausting.
Holidays, stressful days, Thursdays (y’all know how much I hate Thursdays) – basically anything ending in the word “day” could set me off in a downward spiral. Tears, despair, and out-of-control behavior, I feel like I’m watching my life in an endless loop of depressive stages, helpless to stop the cycle.
And lately, it’s gotten worse. Do you know why I never posted that Easter family photo? Because I never got one. I spent Easter alone in my depression instead of with my family. Another holiday ruined. Another family memory lost. Another “Christie” meltdown. The next time I would have a moment? Just yesterday.
3 years after finally admitting that I have depression, this is still my reality. Nothing has changed. Not really.
I went through more cycles of “trying” something new. More travel. Different exercise routines. Losing weight. Joining mom groups and bible studies and attempting to make “friends” before finally working up the courage to see a doctor for medicinal intervention.
Except that never worked out.
My Asian genes kept me from making an appointment for over 10 months. Too proud? Maybe. Too stubborn? Definitely. Too reliant on myself and my nursing skills to get me through without crazy med side effects? Oh yes. Too scared to admit that I needed help? Absolutely. But it was here in that cold doctor office over 3 years ago, with bland walls and sterile smells that I sat with the tech who didn’t speak English as her first language, trying to take down my medical history. It didn’t take long to realize that this appointment wasn’t going well.
“What is this?”
“Adopted.”
“What?”
“Adopted. I’m adopted.”
“What?!” as she shakes her head.
Finally googling how to say adopted in Spanish and explaining why I didn’t know my family medical history (so painful) – we finally got to why I was there in the first place.
“I have depression.”
“Ok. Good. Good. How long?”
“10 months.”
“10 days?”
“No, months.”
“Days?”
“MONTHS.”
Taken aback, she types in her computer (probably still writing the word “days”) as she led me to another cold sterile room. Only, it wasn’t my room. After waiting yet another 15 minutes, the staff had gotten me confused with another patient, and I had to be walked back out to the lobby. The LOBBY, y’all.
I should have taken that as a sign and left then.
But I waited. And waited. And 45 minutes later, I was led back into a patient room that would finally be my room. For like 1.5 nanoseconds. The doctor (a lady who also did not speak English as her first language) asked me why I was there. The only difference – she really didn’t care why I was there. I don’t think she heard a word out of my mouth as she looked away as she handed me papers full of lab draw orders and a “have a good day” mentality.
Door shut.
But I went and got those labs filled. Because in my mind I was thinking – once she sees that all of my labs are normal, I can finally get depression medication. I’m going to get help.
But then I went back.
2 weeks later I was back at the funny smelling office again. And this time when I saw the doctor, she pulled up my labs. Vitamin D deficiency. Aka, I need more sun. Which if I wasn’t already 1000% anxious, I could have laughed. A Florida gal who needs more sun? Knee slapper.
But instead, my doctor insisted that I take a special prescription of Vitamin D pills. And when I tried to explain that I was there to talk about depression and seek medication help – I was blown off. “Here’s a list of psychologists. Go talk to one of them instead.”
And then I walked away.
Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt that day. As a nurse, I should have known better. I should have been more vocal. I should have made her listen to how desperate this situation was. Stood my ground, demanded that she prescribe me something for depression – anything. But I just left, disappointed, alone and scared. Humiliated that not one person took my mental health issue seriously. It would be another 2 years before I would make my next appointment.
Oh and by the way, that was a few days ago.
No wonder it’s so hard for people to get mental health help. 10 months of working up the courage for the first appointment, 2 weeks of waiting, and another 2 years of working through my emotions for the next appointment – scared that I would have the same experience if not worse. At this point, I’m feeling defeated. I’ve been living over 3 years with self-diagnosed depression/anxiety and still without a “real” way to cope. Am I scared that my life may become fake, someone who I am not? Yes. Am I scared that depression medicine will change who I am forever? Absolutely. But when you’re at your lowest (no pun intended), what else can I do?
I can’t keep living this cycle. I can’t keep allowing the darkness to take over. I can’t keep hiding my feelings, even in plain sight.
I need your help.
June 24th, in case you wanted to know. That’s my appointment date. And every day that gets closer, my anxiety builds. I can’t repeat that doctor visit again. It will break me from ever seeking help again. So I’m asking for your help. Those days that I “go dark?” That’s when I need you to check in. Reach out. Ask how I’m doing. Because it won’t be the days where I’m on Instagram Stories laughing and asking goofy questions. It will be the days when I post nothing, the days when I am silent – that’s when I’m at my low.
And why do I share all of this? Because I know that someone out there has been me too. Scared to get help, but knowing that they need help. Paralyzed in indecision, worried that any choice is the wrong one. And when you’re low, really low? You’re silent too.
Some days, I hide my depression in plain sight. And I hide it well. But the days I don’t hide well? I’m hiding from the world. It’s May 1st today. A new month. A new chance to break out of hiding and into the light. Hold me accountable. Check in. And check on those friends and family who have depression/anxiety too.
They need you. And so do I.
Read more about my depression journey:
- What Depression Really Looks Like (post gone viral)
- My Depression One Year Later
- What I Wish Everyone Understood About My Depression
Follow Raising Whasians for more of our honest family moments, recipes, crafts, and travel tips.
Jackie says
Thank you for being candid and open in an effort to help someone that may be in your shoes. And thank you for opening the door to us, welcoming us to check in. I promise, I will.
Tracey Skafidas says
Christie,
When you posted this I had literally just been thinking about whether I should write a post or make a video about what depression looks like, because so many people just don’t understand. My struggle has been long and part of why I started my blog, I want to share my story as well. I would encourage you to make an appointment with a psychiatrist asap (because June 24th is TOO LONG to wait), not a general doctor, because they have no idea about various anti-depressants and their side effects. You’ll be left to your own devices without much assistance in determining what might work best for you. (I speak from years of experience). The best practitioner I have ever seen is a psychiatric nurse practitioner and he is extremely knowledgeable about medication. He views me not only as a partner but as the sole decision maker when he presents my options! The point is, I know the struggle, and I know how easy it is to hide especially once you finally get into the doctor’s office! The best time to go is now, and I know how hard it can be to get appointments, but try, try, try!! Sending love and understanding…this probably should have been an email …but I hope it helps you and maybe even someone else. You matter, your health matters, if it were a broken leg you wouldn’t wait until June 24th and wouldn’t be expected too, either!! One last push….even though this is hardest time to have to advocate for yourself, you MUST! Keep calling, find someone who gets you in asap. YOU MATTER and by helping yourself, you are showing your kids how STRONG you are! xoxoxo
Nicole says
So sorry you’re going through this. It’s hard to feel judged for mental health issues, but your absolutely taking the right step toward healing. I pray you find the help you need.
Meg says
Whoa. This was deep and vonerable! Thank you for sharing .Thank you for being honest. Thank you for asking for help and letting us in.
Christy S Maurer says
I hide mine in plain sight too. I don’t think people get it. We might look happy, act happy, act “normally” while inside we feel dead or anxious or ready to break down and cry. It’s like that meme that says, “I’m not faking being sick; I’m faking being well.” I’ve been seeing a counselor and psychiatrist for 5 years, but I’ve suffered from anxiety and depression for much longer. But after Kevin (my husband) died, I knew that just getting an anti-depressant from my MD wasn’t good enough. Just having someone to talk to once a month about how things are going has really helped me cope. If this doctor doesn’t help you, I hope you can find another. I know insurance dictates who we see sometimes 🙁 Speak up and tell your doctor exactly how you feel and don’t let her leave that room until you are satisfied that she understands. You deserve help. And I don’t feel like my medication has made me different, and it isn’t a cure. I know you know that there isn’t a cure. But I feel like it does make me feel a little more normal. Now instead of being in the darkness everyday, I might just have a couple of days a week that I feel that way. Some months/weeks are worse than that, but I know that I have been much worse than my current bad days (if that makes sense). I’m here to listen. I know we’ve only met a couple of times, but I do want you to know that you’re important to me. I look up to you as a blogger too. Message me anytime you are in that darkness. I understand it. I’ll be praying for your appointment to go well!
Jill H says
There are people out there that care!!! If you don’t feel good about the provider go somewhere else!! I find out within the first few minutes of conservation wether we click or not. Try to find someone who can relate. For me I don’t want someone that’s young enough to be my daughter…Vitamin D and Vitamin C do help with depression. You also may be lacking other things . I myself do not do well with any medication s but have many friends that have done quite well on antidepressant. I hope you find a confident that you can talk to.
Terra L Heck says
Girl, I feel for ya! I will keep you in my prayers. Thanks for sharing your journey. I admitted myself to the psych unit in early March and blogged about it. I can’t say the stay itself helped much but it got the ball rolling on setting up a counselor, having a doctor that really cares, and figuring out my meds. I’m still a mess (officially diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder) but I have to get through this. And you do too!
Rebecca Bryant says
Sending up prayers for you. It’s a hard road. It took me a year to get someone to hear me about my son. Everyone kept telling things like it’s normal teenage behavior, it’s normal for highly intelligent kids to close off, it’s normal for boys to be more introverted, and the list went on. I finally had to say to everyone stop, I know my kid I carried him for 8 months, I raised him for 15 years I know when he is fighting something deeper and darker than normal teenage behavior. Finally, after a year a doctor listens and he was diagnosed with depression. Like you, he is very good at hiding it. He smiles and functions but I see it takes everything he has to do it. We now work on a scale of 1 to 10 to determine how is the day is going. 1-3, not good 4-6 we are ok 7-10 it’s a great day. You both inspire me. You are so strong and brave. Sharing this story will definitely help someone and sharing it shows how brave you are. You are inspiring a nation to come forward and embrace their true self. Thank you.
Susan & Shawnee says
We got you, Christie, and we’re right there with you. Everything you’re saying is valid and you are a warrior! Love you, beautiful!😘❤️
B. says
Sometimes it is easier for doctors to pawn off patients when it comes to depression. Though, in the same breath, many doctors are way to willing to prescribe the drug de joire of that moment.
I was lucky because I have had the same primary care doctor for over 30 years. He listens and comforts more than trying to push me out the door for the next one in line. He was the one who suggested my problems were from some form of depression.
Of course, I had to go through panic attacks, possible, heart problems and various types of GERD before diagnosing me with depression. I won’t go into the specifics of what I actual “have” in reference to depression; but, I will say that my wife, family and (yes) drugs have helped stem the constant fear. They and Paxil…saved me.
Now, I wish I could say that is my happy ending. It is not. I still have “moments” when I get a tunnel-vision feeling. I feel like I am over 200 degrees and my pulse feels like it is going to pound out of my body. Those days still happen…but they are fewer…and the thought of them don’t linger in the back of my mind. Peace of mind is there for all who suffer…keep trying and know that your family and friends are there….B.