My older sister was diagnosed with depression and bipolar disorder during her teenage years. Back in the early ’90s, information about mental health issues in adolescents was scarce. My father dismissed her struggles, convinced she was merely seeking attention, and was reluctant to pursue treatment. Thankfully, my mother stepped in to support her, especially after their divorce, allowing my sister to take antidepressants, which my father had previously opposed.
I also have two younger sisters who faced their own battles with mental health during their teen years and began taking antidepressants in their twenties. My youngest sister initially tried to manage her struggles alone; however, after the birth of her daughter, she found herself unable to cope and spent days isolated in her room, feeling as though she was submerged underwater.
It was only after this that my paternal grandmother revealed the extent of mental health issues within her family, highlighting that many relatives were on antidepressants — a fact she had hidden. Now, even my father has started taking medication and has undergone a significant transformation, but this change came only after considerable persuasion from his siblings, and he was in his 60s by then.
As for me, I’ve always felt guilt for not experiencing depression when my sisters and family did. I often questioned why I was different and struggled to empathize with their situations. When plans were canceled because my sister was too depressed to get out of bed, I felt frustration. Family gatherings where my siblings were withdrawn left me baffled. Hearing them discuss needing time off for mental health reasons made me think they just needed to toughen up. Perhaps my father’s attitude, which dismissed depression as laziness, influenced my perception. Regardless, I simply couldn’t grasp the feeling of being unable to rise from bed or engage with others.
Then I Turned 40
My own experience with depression began subtly, manifesting as a constant sense of unease without an obvious cause. I confided in my then-husband, expressing my confusion about my feelings. His response — that everything would be fine — left me feeling unheard and invalidated.
That was six years ago, and my mental health has since deteriorated. I view my anxiety and depression as a persistent presence, always simmering beneath the surface, even during periods of happiness. When it flares, it drains me completely; I struggle to think, lack energy, and find myself staring blankly at the ceiling or TV for hours. It’s as if my anxiety leaves me in a numb state before I can re-emerge.
This change has reshaped my life in ways I never anticipated. It affects me physically, and I often think of my sister on those days when lifting my head feels impossible. Recently, I found myself missing my kids while they were with their dad. I spent the day sleeping intermittently, going to bed as early as 7:30 PM. I wasn’t sad or hungry; I just had no interest in anything. I couldn’t engage in conversation or respond to messages, feeling an unusual heaviness in my body. It dawned on me that I was finally experiencing what my sister had described, and I regretted not being more understanding in the past.
That realization prompted me to contact my doctor for help. I had previously assumed I was immune to depression, as I had been the only one in my family not on medication. While I had experienced postpartum anxiety and the “baby blues,” I believed I had escaped the clutches of depression. Yet, as I navigated my 40s through significant life changes — my children growing up, perimenopause, and a divorce — I found myself struggling.
It’s a daunting experience to transition from feeling vibrant, happy, and engaged to someone overwhelmed by anxiety and depression. But this is my reality now. It’s about embracing self-acceptance, taking life day by day, and recognizing my needs without comparing myself to who I used to be.
I refuse to tell myself — or anyone else facing similar challenges — that everything will be okay and then walk away. Tough love doesn’t alleviate depression. Finding help makes the journey manageable, so if you relate to my story, don’t hesitate to seek assistance rather than waiting for it to pass.
If you’re interested in more insights, check out this related blog post for additional support and information.
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In summary, my journey through depression began unexpectedly in my 40s after a life of relative emotional stability. Understanding and acceptance are crucial as I navigate this new reality, and seeking help is essential for managing my mental health struggles.
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