Living with a mental illness is its own kind of hell. Constantly dealing with people who either tell you to “just get some sun” or remind you that you “don’t look sick” or that you “don’t look like you have depression.”
Spoiler: We know.
We’re painfully aware that we don’t look sick in the traditional sense that there’s no cast, no stitches, no visible aid to point at and say, “See? Here’s the proof!” Unfortunately, when we leave our front door, it’s not socially acceptable to look the way we feel. We have to put on the mask. We have to show up, pull our shoulders back, force a smile, and perform functionality just so people don’t look at us like we’ve failed some invisible test of being human. And also because we need money.
And when we don’t keep the mask on, because t’s too heavy to carry on some days, and when we show up without the energy, without the small talk, without the fake laugh, it’s not compassion that greets us. It’s judgment. We’re “moody.” “Unmotivated.” “Difficult.” “Cold.” “A bitch.”The labels pile up quickly, burying us under words that sound a lot like disappointment.
But the truth? We’re fighting our own fucking mind on a day-to-day basis, trying not to seem depressed to protect your feelings. We’re using every ounce of strength just to stay upright, to not crumble, to not let our thoughts consume us whole.
Depression isn’t always crying in bed or missing work. Sometimes it’s brushing your hair for the first time in three days and calling that a win. Sometimes it’s forcing yourself to answer a text you’ve been avoiding because the weight of socializing feels like dragging a boulder uphill. Sometimes it’s laughing too loud at a joke because you’re overcompensating, trying to convince everyone (including yourself) that you’re fine.
Our world isn’t built for people who are “not fine.” We glorify productivity, positivity, resilience, but here’s the kicker: only when it’s pretty. We love a “mental health awareness” post as long as it’s wrapped in pastel aesthetics and self-care buzzwords. But we don’t talk about the dark stuff.
The paralysis.
The guilt.
The shame of knowing you should be doing more, but your body and brain are battling each other and neither one winning.
And when we finally vocalize out loud and admit “I have depression” everything changes.
People treat you differently.
Conversations change.
Invitations stop coming.
The silence gets louder.
Suddenly, you’re fragile to them.
Or worse: a problem to fix. They mean well, but the words sting anyway: “You just have to think positive.” “You need a hobby.” “Other people have it worse.”
As if we haven’t tried to outthink it. As if logic could rewire a brain that’s tired of its own existence. Now, I’m not knocking it, sometimes those things do help. Without them, it would be worse.
Depression isn’t about being sad all the time. It’s about feeling nothing when you know you should feel something. It’s the disconnect between what your life looks like on the outside and what it feels like on the inside. Which can best be described as hollow. (For me anyways, I can’t speak for others)
And that gap? It’s lonely. It’s exhausting. It’s the reason why so many of us keep quiet. Because trying to explain it get’s exhausting when you wish you could just put them in your brain for a day to show them.
So no, we don’t look like we have depression. But we do.
We live with it. We work with it. We raise our skin babies and our fur babies, we maintain relationships, and we try to chase our dreams. All while dragging an invisible weight that the world refuses to see because it’s not “aesthetically sad” enough.
Maybe one day, we’ll stop measuring pain by how visible it is.
Maybe one day, “You don’t look sick” won’t sound like an accusation.
Until then, we keep showing up.
Quietly.
Because even when it’s invisible, survival is still worth celebrating.
~Next Life Loading
Want to contribute to letting people know just what living with a silent killer is like? Visit my Submit Your Story page and submit it. Just remember, I’m not a therapist or some mental health guru. I’m just a neurospicy trying to bring a real awareness to living with depression.