Putting on act won't make depression go away

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. — "I never would have suspected …"

"You didn't seem depressed …"

"I can't believe that's you."

I hear these kinds a comments a lot since I have outed myself. I usually give the same response: "Yeah, well, what can I say? It's me."

A lot of us with depression, bipolar and addictions are fantastic actors despite our epic hangovers and/or fun-sucking, low-grade depression. We carry smiles in our pockets and slap them on when we need to look like we're not suffering from an epic hangover and/or fun-sucking, low-grade depression.

We pull it off so well and so often that folks believe we're just overworked, stressed or really tired. I think we women are even better at covering it up. We have makeup to help and hormones to blame. A good haircut, the right outfit and enough mouthwash and no one will notice.

Me, I also relied on humor — especially sarcasm. I was tough, witty and, frankly, a real bitch. Of course, I could also be kind, sympathetic and a real wisenheimer. I was anything I needed to be to prevent you from seeing there was a crack and it was getting bigger and deeper.

It also was my protection from myself, because if you didn't see how bad I felt, then I must not be as sick as I felt. I had it under control, right?

It was an award-winning performance, which is why, after a suicide, you often hear people say, "I never would have guessed. She didn't seem …"

Looking back, there were signs — like the one I put on the back of my chair at work that said: "Do not disturb." I turned my back to the newsroom, buried myself in my work and spoke as little as possible. I did not make eye contact. I lost weight. I stopped answering and returning phone calls.

Then I hit bottom. The show was over. No more "acting as if." No more acting at all. I am too good at it and it could kill me. Today, I live by the words of the philosopher Popeye: "I yam what I yam." It seems to be working.

Christine Stapleton writes for The Palm Beach Post. E-mail: christine_stapleton@pbpost.com.