Hiding the Depression

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Since around 10 years old, I've battled with depression and suicidal thoughts. Most people would never know. I laugh and smile and joke when I'm around people. I put on a constant front that everything is ok. Just failed a test? You wouldn't know because I'd act the same way as if I aced it. Stab me in the chest? Whooo you got me good, man, ooh that's a deep one there, high five. Never mind that I'm bleeding internally.

One of the few things I hate more than constantly being depressed is people knowing I'm depressed. I trick myself into believing that I really don't care.. I've gotten through enough sh*t in my life that I try to see the positive in everything. It will get better. It did in the past. I push everything deep down and cover it up so I only have to deal with it when it bubbles to the surface, those times when I'm alone. Because God forbid anyone see me suffer.

But the reality is, I am constantly really depressed. I think of suicide a lot. Sometimes it's once a month. More commonly it's a few times a week. At it's worst, in times like that during which I write this, I think about it constantly throughout the day. I fantasize about how nice it would be to be released. But f*ck, it'll get better, right? It always has in the past, I'll tell myself. It always has in the past...

I used to be suicidal. So I understand. Why do you want to hide it though? Well maybe at work I wouldnt want people to know. But if you let some people like a therapist know they might be able to help you.

Why bother killing yourself now when your just going to die someday anyway.

Theres always something good to be had around the corner. A new friend, lover, band, book, movie etc to be had. So why not take the good stuff while you got it. Get whats yours. Because someday you wont have a choice...

But I get you I guess. Im not suicidal anymore but I think about how nice it will be to be in the after life. Im not religiouse but spiritual. I believe in an after life and reincarnation. Im scared of what the next life will bring.

I hide it because in my experience when people know you are depressed, they treat you like a fragile thing that could break any moment. There's nothing like a solemn "Hey man, have you been doing alright?" on a good day to remind you that, Oh, f*ck, that's right, I'm f*cking depressed. Either that or people avoid you because you're sad and that's bad vibes. They'll think to themselves, Why would you even come out to a show if you're depressed? Nobody wants to see that sh*t.

The biggest thing that stops me from trying to kill myself again is the thought of dealing with the fallout if I survive. The rumors in class or at work. The whispers between the Craigslist roommates and the sideways glances. Or maybe even getting evicted and having to find a new home, because Oh how traumatizing it would be if I came home and he were dead!

Oh, and let's not forget the other social implications. Nobody wants to be your friend because who wants to invest their time in someone when they might kill themselves tomorrow. And sure as hell nobody is gonna want to date me after that. I already had to move away once to escape that stigma. F*ck that sh*t.

Of course, if I killed myself, everyone would go, How didn't we see? They'll start talking about the signs that they missed as though they cared. We miss him so much! Oh what we would do to have him back for one more day... If only we'd supported his passions and helped him chase his dreams! That's what they've said about all of my friends who've died. They never missed any of them when they were here. It's only when the absoluteness of permanence sets in that they are filled with emotions.

But really, when it comes down to it, I don't need people who know me being worried about me. How ever so selfish of me. I find myself feeling selfish right now even writing this. Nobody wants to deal with someone else's bullsh*t. Most people have enough difficulty dealing with their own. I sure as hell don't need them wasting energy worrying about me. Especially because I'll push through.. I always do.

Speaking of my own personal experience and nobody else's, it was a step in maturation before I could admit to significant others when I was depressed. Of course, it was also a type of maturation to build a network of supportive people I could count on to care. Not everyone in my earlier life was a very nice person.

An intermediate and helpful step was the concern of a number of decent therapists who allowed me to be myself and still cared about me anyway.

I still get depressed, but not very often and not very much. I encourage you to think of this illness - depression - as something that can be successfully managed. You do not need to let everybody know your business. You just need a few you can count on. Good luck.

I find hiding my depression is so easy. I just hold up the same mask that I've used to hide my autistic traits for most of my life. There really is no way for people to tell the difference, because it's the same act that I've been practising since I was a child. Those states of mind have been so familiar to me for so long that it's very rare that it would ever enter my head to remark on them. Until quite recently, I never sought help for depression unless forced into it by circumstances, usually at the point where a job has been at stake and I needed to justify poor performance or time off sick by seeing a doctor; never because my personal life was falling apart.

I think that my fear about revealing depression is definitely stronger because of autistic masking. Before I was diagnosed and got to understand autism, I had no idea how to tell which of the weird stuff in my head was from autism, anxiety, depression, or even just some unnamed emotion that it was taboo to talk about. They all got lumped together as things I had to hide because other people seemed to react strangely to them. Hiding my depressive moods was no different than hiding my stimming. My autism comes with a big dollop of alexithymia too, so judging how depressed I am is still very difficult, and it slowly creeps up behind me very easily.

I know that mantra very well. It seems nearly impossible to get anyone to understand that, to me, even suicidal thoughts are just routine; I've been having them frequently for over three decades, and I'm still here; so that's pretty good odds, right? Because I'm so matter-of-fact about it, and not tearing my hair out and panicking, most people, including even a couple of therapists, seem to have no idea how to take it; and their reaction is usually disbelief, panicking on my behalf, or assuming it's just my darkly weird sense of humour (though I can see why they might make that mistake!)

Working with a counsellor who had specific autism training has helped a bit; her experience meant that the counselling never got bogged down in misunderstandings about my autistic traits, and she never freaked out about my matter-of-fact attitude to death. She also realised that working on being more comfortable letting my mask down a bit was just as important as trying to deal with the depression. A regular counsellor may be worth a try if you can get them to take on board those ideas; some will run with them, others may not.

okay, this is one big. i've been hiding those since i was a kid, too. developing a mask personality. spikey. and lying to myself, that my flashbacks are just a case of eidetic memory, that i am not hurt, that its hilarious. spikes, snarks, blazing reselience. i dont need to describe it, it was pretty well layed out here in the topic. so i instead go to the part where im changing.

where first time in my life i start to excommunicating the real me. u see guys, i had been wanting to suicide for over a decade, first i'd hide it from myself, then only from others. i'd been plotting it for months. another few months i'd been held by the prospect of surviving (both stigma and even heavier disability than i have allready), then even that would mess off. i'd rush out several times and my kid would yell her lungs out on COMEBACK. one day i wasnt intending to come back. but there was a person, under a window, just loitering there, and i didnt want to kill him by falling on him. so i went to wait. and then mother would crash my door. instinct? something. she'd come 30 clicks to just check out on me because she felt something. i know that u know why i came. snap OUT of it. dont u dare. so ya that made me stay. just out of respect for her, at first.

then, i came out. i could not support the mask any longer. i'd be totally cut off for a week before suicide attempt and a few weeks after, but then i started crawling out. and people i'd known for a long time, people who'd like the grumpy witch, turned out to all like the real me more. to really so care. hours upon hours of talking. slowly unfolding myself from the breakage. telling people the thruths. yes, there was still harmful people, but the affection others were bathing me in, would protect me. they'd learn the ways to talk to me without touching my triggers. a minefield. they surveyed it. then gradually, slowly i'd start to defuse. then someone would come in and land a precizion strike at my suicide motive. ya, he did a lot of work to manage that feat. we are talking about online friendships here. toy world that is my life. not-real(according to some, not me) friends that saved my life. they are still doing it. i am a long way from safe, but first time in i-dont-know-how-long i learn to excommunicate and more importantly accept myself.

yes, some, even many, people hide. they cocoon against the infohazard of me. they go for self preservation and i dont blame them. i turn to those, who dont. i learn to say "i am hurt", "i am afraid" and "i need support". i am making progress. can i help u, too?

I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 8 years old. I learned a long time ago that "Hi, how are you?" is a rhetorical question, nobody wants to hear your personal problems, and rather than explain things like depression, FND, PTSD, or ASD to someone, you can save yourself a great deal of time and frustration by simply taking a wide indelible Sharpie and writing CRAZY across your forehead in 3" letters; it'll have precisely the same effect.

ya i do that. hey, what do u want from me, u know im crazy, right? (buck (from ice age) mode ingaged)
and i do that again with people who want it so.
but with people who had shown, that their "how are u?" means exactly that, i go honest. and its what making me want to live again.