The Year Depression Wore the Face of a Productive Person

Nobody knew because I was still showing up.

I was still going to work, still hitting deadlines, still laughing at the right moments. From the outside I was fine — better than fine, actually. People around me said I seemed focused.

Inside I was running on fumes and a very practiced performance.

The specific type of depression I had was not crying in bed. It was: waking up and feeling nothing. Doing everything that was expected of me while feeling like I was watching myself from a distance. Smiling while somewhere behind the smile a light had gone out.

I did not recognize it as depression because I had learned that depression meant collapse. Mine did not look like collapse. It looked like a very functional version of not being there.

The thing that cracked it open was a Tuesday with nothing scheduled. No meetings, no deadlines. Just silence. And in the silence everything I had been running past caught up with me.

I sat on my bathroom floor for an hour.

Then I made an appointment with a therapist.

If you are high-functioning and quietly not okay: you are allowed to not be okay even if you are still performing. Productivity is not wellness. Please reach out to someone.