What Does High Functioning Depression Look Like?
Appearing to cope doesn’t mean your mental illness is “not real”.
For years, I played the role of someone who was doing well, who was happy, even though I barely knew what happy felt like anymore. I was consumed by the need to harm myself, starve myself, punish myself. I didn’t know what was happening to my mind, it was no longer my own. I was weighed down by a heavy anchor of depression, which was easily masked by how well I could still function, thrive even. Every single day was torture, but no one could tell from the outside. I was doing so well in all of my classes, I had friends and I even did volunteer work. I was absolutely miserable, and the worst part was knowing that no one would even believe me if I told them.
I often wonder what people who knew me years ago would think if they saw my posts and articles, if they were to meet me again today and hear how casually I discuss my mental illness. I like to think they would be surprised, but who knows?
Because I seemed fine, I seemed more than fine, you could have easily thought I was thriving and having a great time. But behind every excellent grade was self-loathing and pushing myself past my limits. Behind every smile in a photo, were the thighs I had to hide in long trousers. I walked through the party with a…
