What it’s like living with High-Functioning Depression.

Namish Gali
Sep 7, 2018 · 2 min read
One of the deadliest, yet most misunderstood diseases in the world.

Depression on it’s own is hard. Very very hard.

It’s a brutal, savage disease that tears your soul out from the inside. And it’s widespread. Millions of Americans and people from all around the world suffer from it.

But there’s a version of depression that doesn’t get talked about nearly as much.

High-functioning.


Over the years, it’s gone by a few different names (Dysthymia, Persistent Depressive Disorder), but they usually refer to the same thing.

A depression that has little to no outward symptoms or consequences, but still negatively affects a person’s mind, thought process and quality of life.

I’ve probably had it for at least 3 years. But I’ve only consulted a psychiatrist earlier this year. And only recently hit the right medications.

Why?

I thought I was fine all this time.

I was near the top of my class. I had amazing grades.

I was energetic enough for most activities.

I was a fair conversationalist (despite some shyness).

I was loved by teachers and by my peers.

And yet… I was dying inside.


During that awful period, I’d sit inside my room and let my negative emotions ferment.

I’d cry for no apparent reason.

I thought about suicide every other week. My mind was poisoned with destructive thoughts, bitter self-loathing and pain.

I wanted so desperately to talk to someone.

But every time I’d go online, I saw the same things: the symptoms of major depression — most of which I didn’t have.

I wasn’t lethargic. My grades didn’t drop. I could still function pretty much as well as I normally could.

So I thought I was fine.


In the end though, my personal life turned turbulent and shortly afterwards, I was hit with a spell of major depression, which, combined with the mental illnesses I already had, made my life an absolute hell.

So in the August of 2017, I seriously tried to kill myself. The preparations were made, the noose was tied and it should’ve been over…

What happened that day is a story for another time, but the important part was that I survived.

After countless visits to different psychiatrists, I finally settled on a medication that could suppress the dark thoughts of my continued HF depression.

And, thankfully, my major depression spell is over.


But I wished I had known I wasn’t normal earlier.

I wish people wouldn’t stereotype all depression as being lethargic/moody/having falling grades, etc.

Because not all depression is the same.

High-functioning depression is a tragedy — one that needs to be discussed more.

Namish Gali

Written by

A second-year college student. A writer. A son. A friend. A man who wishes to make the world nicer.

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