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I always saw depression as this cloud of darkness that follows someone around everywhere they go, on display to anyone within 20 feet.
But people don’t blush depression. It’s hidden. It can’t be seen like embarrassment or shyness.
Depression is the sum of many small parts including social insecurities/anxiety, stress, high expectations from teachers, parents, and partners, and the dreadful regrets a person has experienced that act as a chain strapped to them without a key to release the weight.
“I look so fat in this outfit. I should’ve just worn a sweatsuit.”
“Why can I never pass my tests in school and get good grades?”
“I wish I could be free of my past and not have those nightmares live over my head.”
If these thoughts flood a person’s mind throughout their day and cause the weight of life to intensify, it’s only logical to think the mental infection, known as depression, could start developing and become part of a person’s mental makeup, dragging them further down into an inescapable well.
I have a friend named Vivi, who I’ve competed with in gymnastics since I was in fifth grade. When she confessed she was suffering from depression a couple years ago, I stepped back and the signs jumped out at me. Without the knowledge of her condition, I never would have put the pieces together. Everyone has bad days, and I figured something was affecting her, but the depressive traits went unnoticed.
I never knew that after her ACL injury, which was the breaking point in her diagnosis, that she isolated herself in her room away from her closest loved ones throughout the 10 months of her recovery.
I never knew she fell to her knees after slipping in rainwater, crying in her parents’ arms because of how weak she had become due to her injury, and worse, that the overload of her physical and mental recovery caused her to become suicidal.
I never knew this part of her life stayed blocked from her memory to this day because she lost herself inside the constant thought: I will never be able to compete again.
Seeing firsthand that there are people out there drowning in the darkness on the inside, but with a smile that beams a light brighter than the sun on the outside, has made me realize depression isn’t a thought bubble above someone’s head – it requires observation, detail, and worry for an outsider to recognize the signs.
Pay close attention to the people around you, even strangers, and realize the smile they painted on when they woke up that morning may be fake. That the jokes they told that day were rehearsed in their bathroom mirror before they left their house, just to make it look like they were “happy.”
Even still, depression shouldn’t be stereotyped as a disease that can never be beat. There’s always a way to slam on the breaks and save yourself from the potentially fatal car accident acting as depression.
Vivi went on Lexapro, the most common antidepressant, to improve her mental state. The dosage started off too high and had the opposite effect, causing her serotonin to imbalance, which made her episodes of isolation and self-deprecation stronger than before. This spiral created a sense of hopelessness where she convinced herself she would never be rid of this curse. She was left with the thought, “If the highest dosage won’t help me, what will?”
As the doctors examined why the medication wasn’t working, she began to feel like a guinea pig in a test lab; constantly being the riddle awaiting a solution talked about over coffee in the breakroom between doctors.
Then the doctors determined they had miscalculated her dosage, and when her medication was adjusted, she felt her mental state improving. I immediately noticed the changes: she started to laugh and smile more, go out with friends again, and was able to enjoy her time on family vacations instead of feeling dragged through them.
Finally, after 18 months, she was granted the gift of being taken off antidepressants and set free from the grasp the medication had on her life.
“Never been happier” were the words she used to describe what it felt like after being taken off her antidepressants and moving away to attend Florida Atlantic University in the fall semester of 2024.
She relearned how to appreciate life after the wear-and-tear journey it took to wrap up the vicious cycle of depression.
The trauma from this journey is still carried with her, acting as a giant tattoo stamped across her forehead that states “I suffered depression,” exposing the stigma associated with mental illness. However, the experience of fighting and beating the illness is a lesson learned that pounds awareness into her head and enables her to spot signs of depression in others wherever she goes.
There’s a hopefulness in the journey of depression. It’s estimated 70 to 90 percent of people with depression respond well to treatment, according to a 2021 study reported in the American Psychiatric Association. This should strengthen the effort put into fighting against depression and the ill it reigns on people worldwide.
Being a helping hand guiding someone through depression by just listening or caring also has its own rewards.
I became the first person Vivi gave updates to on her doctor’s appointments, expressing how much progress she was making and the improvement on her happiness.
I became the first person Vivi asked on vacation and watched as she rediscovered joy within her life.
I became the first one she sent videos to of her walking without the support of a trainer, and better, noticing the fire in her eyes burning once again.
People may have a hard time approaching friends and family, admitting they could be battling one of the world’s deadliest mental diseases. Opening that window for them, instead of them having to seek help, facilitates the process.
Despite bad test grades, relationship drama, and parent struggles, find time to check in on friends showing the slightest signs of depression. One quick phone call or text reaching out to someone who’s struggling, or simply asking how they’re doing, could be the difference between the next McDonald’s run after school, or their funeral.