But You Seem So Strong

Guest Author: Cheryl

This content contains explicit and sensitive information that may not be suitable for all ages.

I struggled with depression for a long while before I did anything about it.

That’s because I was, for the longest time, mostly functional. I did well in high school, made it through university.  Years later, I held demanding jobs in communications in which the day didn’t end at 5 p.m., the week didn’t end with Friday evening and everything was urgent. For the most part, I did more than hold those jobs. I even, from time to time, received recognition for my performance.

But that was the façade.

Inside I was falling apart. I struggled, not understanding what I was feeling or where it came from. As time went on, my inside struggle started to seep out; my veneer began to splinter. One day, it finally cracked wide open, as I sat in my car, at a red light, on my way home from work — shaking, overwhelmed, tears rolling down my face and yet I didn’t know why. I didn’t feel sad.

Nothing had happened to me that day, week, month or year. I had a good life — family, friends, interests, a job I loved, a home. I searched for what I felt, if it wasn’t sadness, and came to the realization that I felt nothing. I didn’t care, about anything. I was blank: a shaking, crying mess of blankness sitting at a red light.

The next day I booked an appointment with my doctor.  A few days later, I took a leave of absence from work to seek treatment.

When I told my parents, they were stunned. When they gained their voice, they responded with something to the effect of “but you’re the strong one.”

They couldn’t see, in that moment, that I am the strong one. Living with this illness, untreated, as long as I had; to seek help when I couldn’t live with it anymore; to admit I had depression,  when mental illness still has such a stigma associated with it … well, to me, that’s the epitome of strength.

“But you’re the strong one.”

A few months later, I returned to work and ran into a former boss who had moved to another part of the organization. She greeted me warmly, as usual, and commented that she hadn’t seen me around in a while. I explained I had been off for a few months on medical leave, for depression. Her eyes grew wide with surprise and the first words out of her mouth were, “but you always seemed so strong.”

She went on to comment on the volume of work and complexity of the files I’d been working on, and how she’d never suspected. Then she hugged me, and told me how glad she was that I’d told her, and that I was being so open about it.

Both my parents and my former boss, who knew me well, in different aspects of my life, had the initial instinct to associate depression with weakness.  Their reactions surprised me and saddened me.  While anti-stigma efforts have done so much to support and encourage people to open up about mental illness, there is still a pervasive misconception that associates it with weakness.

If those of us living with mental illness have one mission, other than looking after ourselves, it’s to dispel this myth.

Our mission is to spread the word, as loudly and as far as we can, that living with mental illness is being strong.

Living with mental illness is going through trials and trials of medications and treatments to find something in which the benefits outweigh the myriad of intrusive side-effects.

It’s pushing yourself to meet the world each day, when some days the thought of being alive is almost too much to tolerate.

It’s forcing yourself to eat, bathe, answer the phone or leave the house when doing so means fighting a sometimes epic battle with the voices in your head telling you not to bother, you’re not worth it, life isn’t worth it.

It’s faking it until you make it.

Our mission is to make people understand that people living with mental illness can have many faces, many appearances.  Just because a person smiles, just because a person functions, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t doing so without engaging in one hell of an internal battle that you can’t even begin to fathom until you walk in those shoes.

And, for your sake, I hope you never, ever, have to walk in those shoes.



This is me exactly! Even my doctor said ” but you are strong and always laughing and joking” well I am broken, I can’t work, mostly stay at home in an abusive relationship of 30years and have shut everyone out that didn’t desert me! Can’t afford meds and can’t get help cause hubby makes too much but he won’t pay for meds! It’s all overwhelming and way too much most the time! People needs to change the way they think and help make things better! Thanks for sharing


Cheryl has explained the experience of being a person seen as strong by family and coworkers or supervisors until symptoms of mental illness leave them concluding weakness. “” is a Brand that grounds a public and health care professional awareness campaign.
It will take a significant amount of time to change the entire culture. The voice of each person with a serious mental illness Is essential to raise the groundswell needed to make social change.


Anyone speaking up about their mental illness is so very strong. It most certainly is not a weakness…..It is an illness. It can be fought and won. My son suffered in silence. My daughter found out about his battle from his girlfriend. He did not want any one to know. He suffered in silence. He said , he was so weak…..he said he was always the strong one. How I wish he spoke up earlier……he could have won the battle with this illness. I know from watching this illness it is one cruel disease. Please anyone suffering….speak up….be heard….end the stigma…..The help is here ……This illness has nothing to do with being weak. It would be like saying you are weak because you have cancer…or kidney disease. One day a cure will be found.


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