You might not even know this about me, but I suffer from this illness known as depression. And yes, it is a illness, as invisible as it might be. It didn't just happen one day because of events that have happened in my life— it's a chemical imbalance in my brain and I have to take medicine for it just like someone has to take medicine for high blood pressure or for migraines. And just like the limitations people have when they suffer from hypertension or severe migraines, I, too, have limitations on what I'm able to do.

Some days are fine and I'm able to function like a normal person, but then there are days when I can't make myself get out of bed because I can't muster up the energy. And I can't explain to you why it happens or where it comes from because it seems to just come out of the blue. It's like this overwhelming heaviness that weighs me down, and I have yet to find a way to escape it. It's not extreme sadness exactly because that's a normal human emotion that everyone feels from time to time. No, it's this sense of hopelessness, of desperation. When this wave hits, I usually can't get out of bed, but if I can drag myself out of bed, I go through the motions that day, doing the minimum amount in order to live normally. So please understand this when I cancel plans or just don't answer my phone.

Please know that I don't want to be like this— I don't want to take four pills every night before I go to bed, but if that's what I have to do to function day to day, then I'll do it. And if you can't accept that or if you judge me for it, then you probably shouldn't be in my life because I already get enough shame thrown at me from society; I don't need it from the people I love, too.

You can view me as weak if you want, but I know that I'm not. This has been a continuous battle for over 5 years, and each and every day that I open my eyes is counted as a success. Each and every day that I drag myself out of bed I know that I'm getting stronger because of it. So to you I might be weak, but to me this illness has made me something I often forget I am— a fighter. I fight for things every day that normal people don't have to, like joy and love and hope and self-worth.

But I don't want your pity because everyone is given different battles in life and this is mine. However, I do want and need your understanding. Understand when I just want to be alone in my bed and watch movies all day. Understand when I can't stop crying and don't know why. Understand that I still love you even when I seem so distant.

So yes, as "perfect" as my life looks, I was handed the battle of clinical depression, but before you judge me, remember that everyone has a battle. What's yours?