
What I often hear from my clients in my therapy room isn’t ‘I have depression.’
It’s rather: ‘I think I’m pretty depressed… but I’m not even sure anymore.’
If that thought has crosses your mind sometimes as well, trust me, you’re not alone at all.
First thing I want you to know here is that depression is not your identity.
So, my question would rather be this: what’s happening in the mind that is keeping your depression alive?
For example, do those thoughts that suddenly appear sound familiar:
I don't know what's wrong with me…
Nothing makes me happy anymore…
I feel like I’m watching my life instead of living it…
Everyone thinks I’m doing well, but… I just don’t.
What are those thoughts? Why do they keep coming again and aging? Why is this happening to me?
Because, these are ways of how your mind and the brain communicates with you. What is it actually traying to say to you in those moments is
‘I need help… Please do something…’
If that feels familiar somehow, and if you’ll allow me… I’d like to share something with you. It’s a letter I often wish I could give to people before they even walk into my therapy room in certain situations.
Perhaps you find a little moment to have a look.
I don’t know if you’re depressed. Can not answer this question here.
And neither do you.
And that’s probably why you’re here.
Perhaps you’ve typed into Google something you’ve never said out loud.
“Am I actually depressed?”
Not because you wanted a diagnosis.
But, because somewhere deep inside, you’ve started wondering what’s happened to the person you used to be.
So, maybe nobody around you has noticed. In fact, they probably haven’t.
You still go to work. You still answer your emails.
You still remember birthdays, and smile when somebody asks how you are.
From the outside, your life may look exactly the same.
And, it’s only you that knows the truth, how much harder everything has become. And it feels like the most lonely place you’ve even come to…
Perhaps you try to be strong and keep telling yourself it’s just stress.
Or that work has been relentless.
Because the children need you.
That you’re getting older.
Or, that menopause has changed everything.
There seems to always be a reason.
Only, until one day you look at it all and realise you’ve been explaining away the same feeling for months… perhaps even years. Hmm…
I wonder when you last genuinely looked forward to something.
And, not because you knew you should, but because you couldn’t wait for it to happen.
Can you remember?
If you do, that’s very good. But, many people just can’t…
Not because they’ve become ungrateful. Or because they’re weak. But because, little by little, life has just lost its colours.
And, in one way or another I see it quite often in my therapy room.
One of the things I’ve learned over many years of working with people is that depression rarely (or shall I rather say never) arrives with an announcement.
It doesn’t knock on the door and introduce itself.
More often, it quietly takes things away. One after another.
Your curiosity.
Your energy.
Your hope.
Your ability to stop and enjoy simple moments.
Not all at once.
Just enough that you adapt to each loss until you forget what it felt like to be fully alive.
The very word depression frightens many people.
Not because of what it means medically. But because it feels permanent. As though admitting it somehow means you’ve failed.
But, it doesn’t. At all.
Depression isn’t a measure of your strength, your intelligence, or your character.
Some of the most capable, compassionate and successful people I’ve met have quietly lived with depression while convincing everyone around them—and often themselves as well—that they were simply “having a difficult time.”
Our minds are remarkably good at protecting us.
They’re much less good at pretending nothing is wrong though. And, eventually they find a way of getting our attention.
The brain simply knows the truth, and it knows better. And it starts talking to you in it’s own way, making it’s voice stronger and stronger, asking for help first…
This is something I think is important to understand, and what I mentioned here earlier already.
Feeling depressed doesn’t always mean you have clinical depression.
Sometimes what you’re experiencing is a prolonged stress.
Sometimes it’s grief that was never given space.
At times, it’s years of putting everyone else first.
Sometimes it’s unresolved experiences that your mind has worked incredibly hard to keep buried.
Whatever the reason, your feelings are not random. And they shouldn’t be just put aside or ‘locked in a cupboard’.
They are trying to tell you something.
Not to punish you. But to get your attention.
One of my great teachers I’ve learned a lot from, Dr Michael Yapko, often reminds therapists that there are many different paths into depression—and also many different paths out of it.
I’ve always liked that idea.
Not only because that’s how the brain works, but because it also offers hope.
It reminds us that we are far more than a diagnosis.
The real question isn’t simply,
“Am I depressed?”
It’s also:
“What has happened in my life that has brought me to this place?”
That’s a very different conversation.
And, in my experience, a much more helpful one from the therapy point of view.
So, there we are. If you’ve read this far, perhaps a small part of you was hoping you would suddenly find the answer.
Unfortunately, no article can tell you whether you’re depressed.
But perhaps it can give you permission to stop dismissing how you feel.
To stop telling yourself to “pull yourself together.”
To stop believing you have to wait until everything falls apart before asking for help.
Life hasn’t stopped.
The world is still moving.
People still expect things from you.
But if, somewhere along the way, you’ve stopped feeling like yourself… do not ignore that. Just stop for a moment, look back and perhaps contemplate a little.
Not because you should be afraid. But because you deserve to understand what’s happening.
And understanding is often the first step towards feeling alive again.
Many of the people I meet are experiencing what is often described as high-functioning depression. From the outside they appear to be coping. Inside, they feel as though they’ve quietly lost themselves.
If this letter felt as though it was written about you, perhaps don’t close the page just yet.
Perhaps you feel like reading it again later, or tomorrow. Or share it with someone you trust.
And if, when you’re ready, you’d like to talk to someone who will listen without judgement, just get in touch.
If these words stayed with you…
don’t rush to forget them.
Sometimes the questions we avoid are the ones most worth listening to.
If you’d like to continue this conversation, my therapy room is always a place where you can speak freely, without You don’t have to know exactly what’s wrong, and you don’t have to decide today whether therapy is right for you.
Sometimes the first step is simply having a conversation about what has been happening and whether the way I work could help.
I offer a free, informal introductory conversation where you can tell me a little about what you’re experiencing, ask questions, and see how you feel about working together.
No commitment. No pressure. Just a conversation.
→ Arrange a free introductory conversation
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