So this kinda started with me taking off work today. I get sick days, and my inability to get up, crying through trying to repeatedly do my makeup, and then realizing I can’t get out of bed today.. is an illness. It wasn’t until a co-worker made a comment that made everything I had been thinking so much clearer. I took a medical leave from work when I went to Rogers. I only told one person where I was going, and luckily, no one pried. The co-worker informed me that no one, at any point, guessed that it was anything related to mental health, and instead, thought it was something to do with my vagina. Which is fine because I have very appropriate conversations about my vag at work all the time.
He made me realize something I already knew.. that I have THE best poker face in the world, but also that I realized why I get such anxiety when I use my sick time for “crying” days. You can tell when someone has a cold or fever and should clearly stay away from people. But what reason does someone who’s clearly healthy on the outside and not going to a doctor’s appointment have to take a sick day? (FYI.. The emphasis on sick days is because we’re not not even a little bit allowed to abuse sick time.) I obviously drove myself into a spiral of analyzing this and wondering what people are thinking when I up and just get ill on a random weekday 3 times a month. (My office talks a lot of smack too.)
Then I remembered another diagnosis my old therapist told me I probably had: high functioning depression.. which sounds like an oxymoron if I’ve ever fucking heard one. She also said I might be slightly manic because of it.. which I’ve recently also realized is probably true. Anyways. When you’re depressed (or sad or grieving or blah), most people have a hard time functioning.. let alone HIGHLY functioning. So what the fuck does that shit mean? Basically, it means I work my ass off to get through high school while working 35 hours a week, I get through college with two degrees in four years, and then I find and keep full time jobs.. all of which I’m kinda the shit at. Nothing about that looks or sounds like those Abilify commercials with the sad clouds. Yet inside, that’s exactly how I’m fucking feeling. I push myself through the day, staying as busy and productive as I can so I don’t let the suicide thoughts creep in and have to sob in the bathroom. I book myself up after work because God forbid I have time to be alone with just my brain. It’s so much easier to go get drinks or invite someone over because then we can focus on something outside how I’m feeling. Or at least that’s how I used to be.
Now, it’s become so much easier to avoid life. I make it through work, get home, eat, and plop down. I’ve been seeing friends less and less and answering texts has become an annoying chore. Yet at work, at the store, at a friends, with family.. I look so normal on the outside. I remember telling a friend about a year ago about what I’ve been going through, and after being friends for almost 15 years, he had NO clue whatsoever. That’s the kinda shadow I’ve cast over myself and why I think my doctor said I may be manic. I can go to work, perform the way I need to and not cast a shadow of a doubt that, inside, all I’m thinking about is getting to my bed, or just as often, death. Then once I get closer to home and I can be vulnerable, I start to bawl. I change into pj and light a candle, sobbing, and I cook dinner with my tears falling onto the meat I’m defrosting. I watch TV to distract myself and make a drink to make the night go by easier and bedtime to come sooner. But to everyone else, I’m fine. And I continue to amaze myself at the fact that I am where I am in my life despite having absolutely zero energy or desire to get through any of it.
What Are the Signs of ‘High-Functioning’ Depression and Could You Have It?