(NOTE: This is an edit and update from a previous post I had done on depression.)
“You are one of the most un-depressed depressed people I know,” Kat said to me one morning on our usual Friday morning runs. When she said that to me, I had to smile. Thing is, she wasn’t the first person that has ever said that to me. She isn’t going to be the last one either.
That’s right. I’m coming out and admitting it in a public forum. I have severe clinical depression.
It used to be my “dirty little secret;” something I kept from people because I was afraid of what they would think of me if they knew that I was seriously screwed up in the head. The few people I tried to talk to about it, family included, used tell me that it was just a case of the blues or that I didn’t really have a reason to feel the way I did. I actually had someone close to me tell me that they didn’t understand why I was taking anti-depressants and that I was weak because of it. I had it pretty great, why did I feel like I did?
I don’t have an answer for you that you are going to understand other than “I just do.”