Depression and Friendships

When I was a sophomore in college, I was diagnosed with depression. My roommates knew, but I didn't tell my family. By senior year, I'd discovered journalism and become editor of the college paper — a passion that kept my depression at bay until I graduated in 2006 and moved to a city where I knew no one.

I was working at a newspaper, doing what I loved, but the depression consumed me anyway. I called out sick constantly, and when I made plans with my eventual friends, I'd cancel because I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't understand yet that this was the depression talking — I just thought I needed extra time to recharge because I missed home. I know now that depression was pushing me to isolate, and isolation only feeds more depression.

When "Flaking" Became My Normal

One of my new best friends would get so mad at me — she didn't understand why I kept flaking. It finally dawned on me that depression was the reason, but I wasn't ready to tell anyone, so I blamed migraines instead, which I do get often.

What bothered me most was that I'd moved to Corpus Christi knowing no one and had fought hard to make friends — some I basically followed around until they accepted me. One still says I was like a fungus she couldn't get rid of. She means that with love. Surely.

So why, after all that effort, was I sabotaging relationships with my second family?

The Conversation That Saved My Friendships

I started seeing a therapist because the depression was getting bad. She suggested I be honest with my friends — that leaving out important details could push them away instead of protecting them. I didn't want to be the friend who shows up once in a while; I wanted to be reliable. I just wasn't sure how it would go.

So the next time my group was together, I let it all out — how hard it was to get out of bed, leave the house, or shower. They got an earful. I watched relief spread across one friend's face: she admitted she'd thought I didn't like her and had been avoiding her because she had a young son. What a miscommunication — I love hanging out with her and her son.

My friends had no idea depression could be physically painful and show up in so many different ways. We asked each other questions, and it felt so good to get everything off my chest, especially since almost nobody was talking about mental health then. One big takeaway: a friend I'd assumed would be fine without me actually felt rejected every time I flaked. Looking back, that was a selfish way to think about it.

My friends learned that when I went quiet, they should call and check on me. I learned to stop canceling plans when I was feeling blue and to challenge myself to show up anyway. My depression doesn't get to run the show — and those conversations are where my support system was born.

My Relationship Almost Fell Apart, Too

At the time, I was dating the man who's now my husband. We lived in a tiny apartment with a small second room where I kept my couch, TV, and bookcase — our "woman cave." But there's a difference between recharging and isolating. The more depressed I got, the more time I spent in that room, skipping social events and family dinners. All I wanted was to be alone in the dark.

My then-boyfriend knew I'd struggled with depression before, but not that it was back — I hadn't told him. He just thought I hated Corpus Christi and was rejecting everything he loved about it, and he worried I'd never be happy in his hometown. So I had the same conversation with him that I'd had with my girlfriends. Once we did, everything changed — he helped me research medications, psychiatrists, and treatment options.

Taking the Honesty Public

Even after these breakthroughs, it took years before I told my family — and some friends — about my depression. I started a blog about my mental health journey in 2018, sick of the stigma around mental illness. In 2019, I revealed I'd spent six weeks inpatient at a psychiatric hospital in Houston, then began writing a twice-monthly mental health column for the local paper, holding nothing back. I wanted to encourage others to tell their stories too.

What Friendship Taught Me About Living With Depression

It was freeing. Once my family, friends, and a lot of strangers knew about every mental health aspect of my life, I felt two things: it explained a lot of my behavior, but it didn't excuse it. My depression, anxiety, eating disorder, ADHD, and personality disorder are not the boss of me — it would've been easy to hide behind them, but I had to take accountability for not showing up, for not being a good friend. That pushed me to be better.

I know how hard it is to be honest about mental illness. I remember the shame, the embarrassment, the anger — but I also remember the relief of finally telling my friends the truth. I used to think they'd reject me. Really, I was the one rejecting them. If you want to protect your friendships and relationships, be honest. You'll feel better not holding it in, and you'll build a support system that can actually hold you up.

Everyone needs support. Even us flakes.