I truly believe it when people say that depression is an illness, a chemical imbalance in the brain. It requires treatment, medicine. Prayer, exercise, and therapy can also be tools people use to battle their demons. But more and more, the world is trying to fight off the idea that depression is just "being sad about something". Across multiple online platforms, people have been sharing their stories, encouraging others to take the leap, reach out, and get help. I think it’s beautiful. I’d like to take it one step further and share my own little story.

I didn’t gain a better understanding of depression until a few years ago. Growing up, I’ve always experienced instances where, despite the fact that I was enjoying myself in the present moment, my mind went under attack. In an instant, and for no reason, all the happiness emptied out of me like someone flushing a toilet. My head would be flooded with this unexplainable feeling of hopelessness. Actually, it wasn’t quite hopelessness, it was also sadness, and fatigue. 

The first time I can really remember this happening was back in 2013, I think. I was having dinner at a friend’s house with my sister. We were all talking and laughing, and I was truly happy, it was a beautiful summer evening. As I was sitting there, I remember feeling this wave drain me of all my joy in that present moment. Absolutely nothing had triggered that, I was still at the table, and the conversation hadn’t become unpleasant. If anything, I think my friend’s brother had just made a joke. But in a matter of seconds, I felt as though I had no reason to laugh anymore. I couldn’t understand why that had happened, and I didn't like it. I wanted to enjoy what was happening around me, but my emotions had started playing tricks on me. It was a lot like the feeling you get when you remember it’s a Sunday night and you have to tackle another busy week of school or work, except a lot more intense. After a couple minutes things went back to normal, and I didn’t think too much of it. It continued to happen sporadically as I got older, and I could never understand why. 

Maybe what I’ve experienced in the past when my mind flushes out all my good feelings is a totally different thing, but still, it just seemed to make sense. I remember thinking to myself, "that’s what that is, I’ve had that happen before, I know what that is”. When I experience my inexplicable hopelessness, it interrupts my day to day life randomly and only for a few minutes. It broke my heart wondering if some people were dealing with that for maybe days or weeks at a time without relief. Thinking something was wrong, feeling utterly hopeless, believing they had to hide away what was going on in their heads.

I can also understand the sense that your issues are yours only to bear, that reaching out would be futile or awkward. When I was sitting at that dinner table years ago, it would’ve been so odd to pipe up and say “I’m feeling sad now.” I mean, we were eating lasagna and literally laughing. But, what could’ve happened if I had? I was surrounded by people who cared about me, and yet for whatever reason I told myself to just keep appearing normal and silently fight through the waves. 

Lately, with the widespread push to destigmatize mental health, and be real about what’s behind our smiles, I wanted to share my own experience. I am not clinically depressed. I go through my waves of good times and bad just like everyone, but sometimes I silently battle sadness that happens for no reason—and that’s okay too. 

Over the years I’ve learned that the best thing to do for myself when I feel those temporary chemical imbalances, (as I’ve been calling them) is not to fight it, or shy away from it. It’s perfectly normal to feel the sadness, the hurt, the depression and want to run from it. When I sat at that dinner table I started reminding myself of all the things I had to look forward to the next day, I focused on the conversation around me and tried grasping at joy again as though it was something that had slipped from my fingers. 

Now, I just let it sit. I marinate in it, I greet it, I analyze it, and I briefly allow my mind to roam to sad things. Allowing myself to simply feel it for a moment instead of shying away from it has actually helped the “imbalance” pass quicker than immediately trying to cheer myself up again. Actually, I think I first tried embracing the sadness after watching an interview with Louis CK where he talked about how he pulled over to the side of the road and simply allowed himself to just feel the sad and cry. It inspired me to push to accept my bad feelings as well, and I’m so glad I have, it helped me move through my bad times in a healthier way. 

I’m not pretending to be an expert on this stuff. In truth, I know very little but have been learning more and more about what others have experienced because I believe this information is necessary to cultivating more compassion within this world. I experience mental illness in a very small way. I think we all experience it, but I think we are still fighting against it silently because sometimes it’s actually scarier to be vulnerable and admit when we are feeling weakness. I completely understand this. 

When I’m sad, I hardly ever actively reach out to someone just to talk. It’s messy and uncomfortable, and saying what I feel out loud can also make me feel foolish. But like I said, I’ve come to realize that accepting and validating what upsets me has also helped me to move through the sadness and meet a resolution. 

Could you imagine how much more compassionate we would be if we got out of our own way and started a conversation about how unhappy we secretly are? I think the whole world would take on a whole new vibrancy if we continued to push ourselves to be honest about what we feel. True feelings have this stigma that’s synonymous with weakness, but they’re also apart of being human. This kind of goes back to that cliché, over used but never understood point that we want to be perfect, we like to think we’re perfect, but we are never perfect. I could go on to tackle the whole “what is perfection anyway?” debate, but I’ll save that social justice tirade for later. 

In conclusion, my name is Kennedy and occasionally I feel deep sadness for no reason in very short, sporadic bursts. It’s not much, I haven’t struggled like others have. But this is something I’ve experienced, and I believe it’s so important to be honest about what I’ve gone through, no matter how miniscule I think it is. You never know when sharing your truth will inspire someone else to do the same.