High Functioning Depression and Anxiety

I live with depression and anxiety but I am high functioning.  Actually, many days I live with depression and anxiety.  However, many more days, I suffer with depression and anxiety.  High functioning means that only me, my partner, and my health care team know the extent of my suffering.  I don't know what it means for others who are high functioning, but, I do know what it means for me.  It means that I likely will have more days of suffering rather than living with depression and anxiety.

The problem is I don't have a good fit anywhere.  My friends who don't live with anxiety and depression don't really understand me.  They think I am confident and self-assured.  They don't realize what that costs me.  They don't understand why I make commitments and then cancel at the last minute.  They don't understand why I don't keep in touch.  They don't understand why I am paranoid when they don't contact me when I don't contact them.  Friendship seems unfair.

I don't have a good fit with my family.  They just don't understand.  They are stuck in the picture they hold on to when I was a teenager.  My dad called me spitfire because I was poised to take on the world.  I was not going to be anyone's victim.  They don't understand why I've changed.  I'm still willing to take on the world, but from the anonymity of a keyboard.  They don't understand me.  Sometimes, I don't understand me either but I have learned to accept it.

I go to support groups for people who are living with anxiety or depression.  I don't fit in there.  I am too high functioning.

Last week, I had a doctor's appointment and I arrived early.  There was a woman who was suffering from mental illness and she was causing a disturbance.  I know it wasn't her causing the disturbance, it was her disease.  There were some people in the waiting room that were upset with her disturbance. The staff were trying to diffuse the situation.  Their motives were very sincere and they really wanted to help the woman.  The only way to pacify her was to get her in to see her doctor without an appointment.  That happened.  The woman got she wanted.   Actually, she got what she needed.  She is not high functioning.  In her mind, she needed to see the doctor at that precise minute.  I saw her afterwards.  She was smiling and feeling empowered with the courage to get her through the next few days.  Her doctor don't do anything magical to make it happen.  She did it.  She needed something and she accomplished it.

I was actually jealous of her.  She wanted something and made it happen.  She had the freedom to do so because she was known for being ill.  In addition to mental illness, we also have something else in common.  Her doctor is my doctor.  I was bumped because the staff did triage.  She appeared to be more ill than I was.   In reality, I think I needed to see my doctor more than she did.  But, I appear to be high-functioning.  Sometimes, I don't know what that means.  I know I should be grateful but I am also selfish and wish that people understood my struggle more.  Like that woman.

High functioning depression with a chaser of anxiety.  It may not be hell, but, it is complicated.

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