For years, I told myself I was “fine, “I just needed to stay busy.
I smile, joke, and always keep busy. I carry papers at work, so people think I am on a mission. But deep down, I could tell I wasn’t right. I didn’t call it depression. I just thought I was tired. Or lazy. Or too soft. For years, I would make excuses to go to bed early. This safety net was my chance to let go, but not be seen by anyone. I wasn’t weak. I was hiding my depression — and I was ever so good at it.
You might be doing the same thing without even knowing it.
It’s not your fault. Hiding pain can feel safer than facing it. I know because I’ve lived that way for years.
Here are 10 quiet signs I missed for a long time. Maybe you’ll see yourself in some of them.
1. Overexplaining or Saying, “I’m Fine” Too Fast
When someone asked how I was doing, I had my script ready:
“I’m fine. Busy, but good.” If they asked, “How are you,” I always, always had a positive response. Even if I didn’t feel close to OK, I would say I was good. And then I would ask how they were doing.
I said it fast, like pressing a “don’t look too close” button.
Inside, I wasn’t fine at all. But that didn’t matter. The answer was always, “I’m darn glad to be here.” Regardless of how I was actually feeling, fine was what I wanted my answer to be. Plus, I wanted to believe that fine was the right answer.
2. Becoming the “Reliable One”
I still love helping other people.
It makes me feel needed. But I also use it to avoid looking at my own pain. Even as a write this, I wish I could speak about being reliable in the past tense. But this is still a work in progress. I started working when I was 9, OK, I was supposed to be 10, and was very close when I sort of fudged the answer. I worked full time through high school, and it never crossed my mind to ask others to pay for what I needed.
If I fixed everyone else’s problems, maybe mine would just disappear.
Spoiler: they didn’t. I was 12 when my Dad took a position at Langley AFB in Hampton. This kept him in NASA, but he was back in research and development. It took over a year to sell our current home in Maryland, so my Dad would drive the camper to VA every Sunday night, and come home Friday night.
Before he left that first Sunday, I was put in charge of the family as the oldest male.
I took that responsibility seriously. So, taking care of others has been a “thing” ever since I was 13. It is all about what I can do for others, not what they can do for me. After a year with my current therapist, I am finally beginning to see what that mindset created for me.
3. Telling Myself “Others Have It Worse”
I’d think, “Other people have real problems, I shouldn’t feel this way.”
But pain isn’t a contest. When we push our own feelings down, they don’t go away — they get louder. It was only recently that I began to examine myself in this way. I have always been quick to give others leeway or compassion if they were going through a tough patch.
But I didn’t, and still mostly don’t, give myself the same consideration.
And it is mostly the “I shouldn’t feel that way” part that gets in my way. I am quick to see what others may need, and I have been known to go out of my way to provide it. I still have a lot of work to do in this area.
4. Feeling Nothing at All
I thought depression was just crying or feeling sad all the time.
But some days, I don’t feel anything. Not happy. Not sad. Just… blank. Or worse. I feel up against the wall, with no way forward. I cannot tell you how many blog posts I have written on this subject. And it wasn’t until very recently that I discovered that while trying to be happy, I was doing it at the expense of being sad. Neither one was working, and the end result for years has been that I really don’t feel anything.
That nothingness is heavy, and can be a tough thing to conceal, even if I think it’s working.
5. Always Feeling Tired
No matter how much I sleep, I could always stay in bed longer.
My brain was running a quiet marathon just to keep my mask on. Concealing my depression takes up a ton of energy, And that energy is often more than can be “recharged” in a single night. As I said, I would often say something like, “Well, I’ve got to be up early, so I am going to bed now.” I would say that with a straight face, even if it was only 8:30 PM.
Depression doesn’t just live in your head — it wears out your whole body.
6. Overthinking Everything
I can take a small thought and spin it into a full movie in my mind.
I can write the ending before the story even begins. And I am an excellent time traveler. I can get into the future and know what the outcome will be. Then I can come back to the present, knowing that I no longer need to speak with anyone. The answer is clear. Depression becomes my only friend and the only one I need to speak with. Everyone else does not matter. I can then listen too their opinions, and advice, never planning to incorporate it into my plan.
Speaking about my plan to others just once, covers me.
Depression can now take over the plan and work out the details. Then, it takes time to ensure that I vam on board. Once I have bought in 100%, my depression has one final task. Now it needs to make sure that I see it as mine. Until I believe I am in control of the plan, it won’t happen.
In the end, overthinking ideas is not “just how I am.”
That’s my depression trying to protect me by expecting the worst. I said once that my depression has my best interests at heart. However, it generally works with substandard tools, producing substandard results. Using the made-up information my depression gets from me, it creates a plan that is suspicious from the start. And once my depression gets me believing it’s my plan, its job is done.
My depression can take a holiday, because it knows that I will be there to pay the bill.
7. Avoiding Quiet Moments
I keep myself busy — always.
This is an area that I have been focusing on recently. It’s true. I cannot sit through an entre i1.2 hour TV show unless it;s an NCIS rerun. I get to fidgety.. For me, not having any silence has been the norm almost my entire life. Recently, when I fill my coffee mug and sit on the front porch, I have been leaving my phone inside the house. I spend 15 to 30 minutes watching the wildlife, without the temptation my phone offers. This first thing in the morning respite has helped me think about the day in a more positive light.
I mentioned work. Always being in a hurry means I’ve got stuff to do. This means that I am less likely to be called on to discuss things of importance. That said, I am always the one called if they want something done. I’m known for that as much as I am for carrying a piece of paper. To me, having something to write on is important.
Once I get back to the quiet, the feelings I’d buried started talking again.
8. Smiling Through It
I became an expert at fake smiles and saying that I am “darn glad to be here.”
Most people never guessed I was struggling. And most who may have had an idea, were lulled into not trusting their instincts. That is because I can look so busy. When I spent time at 5 East, I did have a colleague who checked the obituaries every day for a week. I am so happy that she wasn’t right, although she was right in many other ways. As much as I was fooling others and fooling myself, I wasn’t fooling everyone.
Pretending all the time is exhausting and takes a ton of energy..
At the end of the day, all of that high-functioning or concealed depression comes at a cost. Going to bed early has been one of the only things that gives me a safe feeling. Lately, I have forced myself to stay up a bit later. This actually helps me sleep better and for longer periods of time. But it is still a work in progress.
9. Feeling Guilty Over Small Things
If I made even the tiniest mistake, I’d feel like I’d let the world down.
If I get to work on time, I feel that I am late. I have said “I’m sorry” a lot — even when I didn’t need to. Occaisonally I have even said I’m sorry when I didn’t have any involvement in the project, idea, or plan. I carry enormous guilt around. That is part of what makes me so tired at the end of the day. I know that I overthink situations, and worry about things most people gloss over in the moment, and never think about it again in the future.
I am writing this section as if I have corrected it,
This is not true. Heck, this has not been true my entire life. Until I corrected it, I was using “I said”, instead of saying “I say.” Six years ago, I would not have noticed the difference. Now it shouts out at me, and is a glaring road sign. The experts believe that this shows I am making progress, But, once again, I have plenty of work to do.
10. Avoiding Help — Even When I Knew I Needed It
I told myself, “I’ll manage it on my own.”
For years, I did nothing that required assistance. I thought asking for help meant I was weak. And asking for help wasn’t something I could do. After all, my depression was there, under the hood, guiding me. I did not know it, but my depression was trying to help. It was thinking I didn’t need others because my depression would manage it.
And when I didn’t follow my depressions directions, serious stuff would happen.
My depression got me into the running game. Walking, jogging, then full out running was probably what saved me as 1978 began. From December until July, I ran nearly every single day. I was in the best shape of my, at that time, short life.
I would not see my depression again for over 15 years.
But that is a story for another time. In the end, I finally recognize that asking for help is one of the bravest things I’ve ever done. When others say that, I shrug and say OK. But when I say it, I am proud of my courage. Even if it was the least frightening of the three options I saw.
How I Finally Saw What I Was Doing
It didn’t happen all at once. I didn’t wake up one morning and say, “Today I’ll face my depression.”
It was insignificant things.
Someone asked how I was doing, and I actually paused before answering.
I started to notice how much energy I used pretending.
I realized that hiding wasn’t protecting me anymore. It was keeping me stuck.
Naming what was happening didn’t fix everything. But it was the first real step forward.
If You See Yourself in These Signs
You’re not broken.
You’re not weak.
You’re carrying more than anyone can see.
Here are a few small steps that helped me:
- Talk to someone you trust. Even just one person. (Like my new therapist that I trust)
- Write down what you’re feeling. Seeing it on paper makes it real — and less scary.(This is blog post #665)
- Remember: it’s okay to ask for help. You deserve it. (Even though it was the least scariest of the 3 options I saw, I finally was brave enough to walk into the emergency room and say “I need professional help”)
If you ever feel like you might hurt yourself or can’t carry it alone, please reach out for help.
In the U.S., you can call or text 988, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.
A Final Thought
I spent years pretending everything was okay. But the moment I began to say what I was feeling, everything started to shift.
Not perfectly. Not overnight. But enough to give me space to breathe again. To be honest, I am still very uncomfortable talking about my feelings. This is mostly because I have not done it. I have not thought it was necessary to “spill my guts.”
If you’re hiding your pain, I see you.
You matter. And it’s okay to let someone in. I can say this now, but for most of my life I would have said, get lost. Today, I have several key people on whom I can rely. One, from On Our Own, in Charlottesville, VA. has called me once a week for over six years. She just checks in to see how I am doing. I am so appreciative of her thinking about me.
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