No One Told Me I Wasn't Destined to Live and Die Alone

There’s so much about depression that no one told me. 

I suffered my first depressive episode at sixteen when a boy broke up with me immediately after taking my virginity. Having nothing to compare my sadness to, I thought it was normal to cry for weeks on end and drop a substantial amount of weight. No one knew any better.

When an abortion at seventeen caused a second emotional and physical transformation, my fearful parents kept an eye on me 24/7. No one saw this as depression.

When my first fiancée moved out in 1987 after cheating on me, I dropped ten pounds over the weekend and cried at the drop of a hat. Co-workers were shocked at my weight loss. No one took me aside to question my mental health.

My experience as a first-time mother was nothing like they described in the pregnancy books. Bonding with my daughter was nearly impossible and seeing my husband continue his normal routine made me resent the both of them. No one recognized that I was suffering postpartum depression.

When I asked my ex-husband in 2006 for a divorce, my depression was obvious to everyone — including me. I cried non-stop in public and looked like a skeleton after shedding thirty pounds in a matter of weeks. No one had a clue what to do.

After crying less and maintaining my weight a year later, my demons convinced me that I was no longer depressed. Instead, I was a failure whose best days were behind me. No one knew that I had been hoarding pills for years.

When I awoke from a 5-day coma in 2016, everyone questioned what prompted me to overdose, despite the fact that I left a diary clearly explaining my why. No one accepted spending the upcoming holiday weekend alone as a rational reason.

My mother warned me to keep my suicide attempt a secret because she was afraid people would respond negatively and judge me. No one can understand depression unless we bring mental illness to the forefront.

Here’s what I would like to tell you.

Many people can be depressed for years without even knowing it. I’m a perfect example. No one told me that it wasn’t normal to cry for months on end or drop a drastic amount of weight in a short amount of time. 

Experiencing good days fooled me into thinking I wasn’t depressed. But you can have happy moments, or even extended periods when you feel okay. Depression is still lurking right below the surface, waiting to make its move when you least expect it. 

When I spent time with my kids, I thought I couldn’t be depressed because I was in all my glory. But on the way home, I cried on the train while anticipating going back to my lonely existence. I also thought I was okay because I was high functioning at work. While I lacked motivation in every other area of my life, work was my happy place where I continued to thrive.

Depression comes in many forms. That’s why I missed it when my son was depressed. Some people overeat, others practically starve. You might be sad or angry, or both. And it isn’t uncommon for other disorders to hop on the mental illness bandwagon. 

My depression was accompanied by anxiety, especially in social situations. I also developed an eating disorder at 17 to push down my feelings after the abortion. Eventually, it felt like depression took on a life of its own and ran the show—while convincing me that it was somehow my fault.

Depression can also affect you physically. When I was in the throes of my last and worst episode, I landed in the hospital with infectious colitis caused by stress. 

My biggest pet peeve was when people said I should just get over it. But you can’t control mental illness any more than you can control a physical ailment. Like any condition, it’s nearly impossible to manage depression without seeking help. 

Not seeking help for fear of failure is common for people who suffer depression—that thinking played a dangerous role in my journey. I truly believed that I was meant to live and die miserably alone. In my mind, my sadness wasn’t depression or something that could be fixed. 

When I was institutionalized, most patients described their lives exactly like mine. We isolated, felt worthless, were convinced there was no hope, missed out on many special events and lost all motivation to live. You’re not alone.

No matter how long you’ve been depressed, there is hope. You can get better. I had to hit rock bottom with suicide before glimpsing any light at the end of the tunnel. But since I would never hurt my kids like that again, I had no choice but to get better. Once I put my mind to it, a combination of therapy and medication put me on the road from mental illness to mental health. 

The most shocking outcome was when I successfully rewired my brain to be positive through Cognitive Behavior Treatment (CBT). By getting the help you need, you can manage depression and find the happiness you deserve. I’m living proof.

Sharon Greenwald was born and raised in New York. Her personal struggle with depression and suicide inspired her to help others by defining the why behind mental illness. Her book, A Lifetime of Suicide: Defining the Big Why, will be coming out this fall.