Living With High Functioning Depression: Just because I’m functioning doesn’t mean I’m okay

high functioning depression
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High Functioning Depression. Seems almost like an oxymoron.

Depression is supposed to drain your hopes, dreams and desires until you are feebly moving around in bed just to prevent sores. You’re supposed to be a merit and a loner, shunning the outside world.

But what if I told you what the daily struggles are for a person who is severely depressed yet still participates in society as best she can. That person is me.

I was diagnosed with depression about 2 years ago, even though I have displayed the tell tale symptoms since I was 5. I often think my life is wasted, that someone else would cherish it more than myself – life though isn’t transferable or returnable.

Though recently I have revealed bits and parts of my past and past struggles, I still hide behind a mask of dry humor and sarcasm to fit in with the outside world. Everyday is the same when you have depression – bleak and cold.

high functioning depression

My depression has always been a motivator. From age 12 I excelled in art and creative studies while telling my mother I wanted to die. From age 14 I took every honors and AP course I could, while participating in 2 different sports, and 2 different after school clubs; I cried every night wishing I could trade my life for someone who appreciates it. From age 16 I meticulously perfected my portfolio for applying to college while struggling with my self esteem and self worth. And age 20 is when I had my first meltdown while having college, a part time job, and an internship under my belt. Now at age 23 its all hitting me again.

Since I had decided to wear a mask to hide my depression, the mask grows weaker and cracks appear. Every crack is a breakdown and I’m afraid they’re spidering across this fake persona.

During the summer heat, there’s no warmth. During winter’s cozy days I feel a blistering chill. And during the spring I think of death and during the fall I feel like the falling leaves are fleeting happy memories fading with age.

What I struggle with mental health experts don’t understand. How can someone so depressed be so motivated? To be honest it’s the last thing to keep me connected to those I love and to those I will meet. But just because I’m functioning doesn’t mean I’m okay.

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