With the change of seasons comes an uptick in frequency of gloomy, lugubrious days (thanks, 10th grade English class) that conjures images of a cliched, romanticized individual with depression staring morosely out the window as rain patters down outside. Rest assured, they're also wrapped up in a giant blanket and listening to angsty songs that sort of all sound the same.

They're like a sad face emoji: blank, listless, and simple. Fortunately, unlike the emoji (and Voldemort) they're still in possession of a nose. Bonus points if the stereotyped embodiment of despair's nose is running like the tears down their cheeks, requiring several boxes of tissues.

Delicious, huh? Glorping around like a leaky amoeba. And all lumped into the same, squishy category of pitiable and self-indulgent.

This is the same perpetuated, blithe, dangerous mindset that often says, "Just be happy."

Hello! Your (sometimes) friendly, always giggling, human bean with depression here.

Wait... outgoing? Laughing? Being around people and having a grand old time with a grin on my face? Depressed people don't do that!

...Right?

*insert my aforementioned raucous giggle here* Wrong. Depression isn't like one-size-fits-all items of clothing (though let's be real, nothing is really universally sized.) It doesn't look like the poor sad theater mask. Sometimes it's bright, ironed, clean clothes instead of frumpy, stale shades of grey (more than 50; get your head out of the gutter.)

Despite the fact that humans are reportedly 99.5% genetically identical to one another, there are not any two people who are exactly alike. So why on earth would anything manifest itself universally across the homo sapiens board? I have blonde hair, but that doesn't mean every blonde is walking around with that same frizzy mane monster. I'm classified as short, but so are people who are both taller and smaller than me.

Every attribute any one of us possesses is coded for through genetics. Freckles? Genetics. A sneeze so loud it can be heard 'round the world? Genetics. A proclivity for rambling on like this instead of, say, aspiring to be an engineer? Genetics.

This isn't to say that genetics are the sole culprit behind everything. Nor is it to say that everyone is enough of an ignoramus to throw all of us with depression into a deep dark cave of uniform unhappiness. It is, however, to say that depression, and thereby the individuals it afflicts, are as vastly and irrefutably unique as that .5% of DNA somehow allows us to be.

First, a number (and it's a big one): 300,000,000+. That's how many people the World Health Organization estimates are actively dealing with depression. Currently, there are approximately 7.4 billion (7,400,000,000) of us fleshy bipeds on this planet. That means that nearly 25% of the entire human population suffers from this mental illness alone. 1 in every 4 people. (Note that these numbers reflect both those who receive help for/identify & do not receive help for/identify with their depression, for varying reasons.)

Second, a brief portrait of depression, starring yours truly as the subject (because I'm the only one I can truly speak for):

I have depression when I take my medicine immediately after waking up to help alleviate common symptoms. SSRIs are designed to combat low serotonin levels in the brain; this is one of the hallmarks of depression.

I have depression when I down those pills with my beautiful, giant cup of coffee in the morning with the taste of magic and euphoria in my mouth.

I have depression if I can be found sleeping during the day, by which I mean more than your average quick lil catnap, more often than not.

I have depression during those awful periods where I don't sleep at night.

I have depression when it's rainy and yucky out.

I have depression when the sun is blinding, the birds are singing, and you can practically hear the faint echo of Mr. Rogers saying, "It's a beau-ti-ful day in the neigh-bor-hooood."

I have depression if I do in fact hole up in my room in a blanket burrito, complete with a truly stellar groutfit.

I have depression if I'm laughing and visiting with friends and family.

I have depression on Mondays, where I sometimes have to forcibly extract myself from the bed by pretending to fall out of it so that I jolt myself awake.

I have depression on Fridays, when the weekend is looming large, full of excitement, fun, and adventure.

I have depression when this inexplicable, debilitating heaviness settles in between my bones.

I have depression at times where I'm so bouncy and hyper I honestly start to wonder if I'm distantly related to Tigger.

I have depression when I outwardly look it.

I have depression when that'd be the farthest thought in your mind looking at me.

Okay, that was more pseudo-brief than actually brief... but then, I am genetically wired to write (and write and write and write and I digress.)

All that is to the simple point that I have depression no matter what. It doesn't evaporate into thin air just because I'm in nirvana petting soft animals or something like that. It doesn't only rear its ugly head when I'm teary-eyed and blubbering. Just because I'm oddly quiet doesn't mean you should avoid me like the plague, but just because I'm talkative and responsive doesn't mean I really want to be engaged in conversation.

Before I go giving you the wrong idea, let me make a really important note: just because depression is always present does not mean it is omnipresent.

By that, I mean to simultaneously underline the message of this article and validate some of the thoughts that inspired it. There's a really important difference between the statements "I have depression," and "I'm depressed." One is 100% true, valid, and deserving of kindness, understanding, and respect. The other is just as true, valid, and deserving of that kindness, understanding, and respect, but not 100% of the time. That's because we aren't always actively hampered by or aware of our depression, despite that it's like a permanent shadow in the corner. It's also because we can, in fact, take steps to combat and lessen it.

I have depression (and if somehow, that's still going over your head, I'm more than baffled... heehee); that's indeed a fact. And there are times where it's just going to get the better of me. Sometimes I will cry, isolate, listen to wailing songs, and journal while pensively sipping a mug of tea, surrounded by dead tissues, and there isn't a damn thing I or anyone else can do to change or stop that.

Other times, I've simply got to fight, and if so empowered and encouraged, I will. This can involve anything from taking medicines to going out of my way to be social, even if never having coffee again (the horror) sounds preferable. It's equally as important for you to be supportive of and receptive to your peers with depression as it is for us to keep you in the loop. For the sake of our happiness, our well-being, our safety, and our futures.

In closing:

Your depression is again real, valid, and deserving of kindness, understanding, and respect. No exceptions. Whether people believe you or not, that's true. Whether you have a therapist and support team of loved ones to try and allay the worst of it, or haven't told a soul what you're going through, that's true.

We are all deserving of kindness, understanding, respect, and love.

That means you, too.

*IF YOU FEEL THAT YOU ARE DEALING WITH DEPRESSION, OR ARE ENDURING SYMPTOMS UNCHECKED, IT IS ESSENTIAL THAT YOU TELL SOMEONE SO THAT YOU CAN RECEIVE THE HELP YOU NEED. IF YOU ARE CONTEMPLATING SUICIDE OR BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE CURRENTLY AN ENDANGERMENT TO YOUR OWN LIFE, PLEASE LET SOMEONE KNOW IMMEDIATELY, PREFERABLY BY CALLING 911 OR YOUR LOCAL SUICIDE PREVENTION HOTLINE (THE U.S. NUMBER IS 1-800-273-8255). <3*