I hate reading recovery stories about depression. Stories like that make me almost as uncomfortable as it does to talk about it. In my opinion, a lot of them represent a false reality. You don’t recover from depression; you learn to live in dejection. I hate all the sad details, the motivational endings, and the typical “it gets better.” Did you really get better after four hollow years? Or did you do what everyone else did, and learn to cope with it? You tell your story to make yourself accept that you're okay now, but you leave out the parts that are hard to talk about. Tell us how you found yourself face-to-face with your reflection in the mirror and you didn't recognize the empty eyes that were staring back and how the hand clutching something a little too sharp didn't belong to you. You pray that you hit rock bottom, because once you've reached the lowest of lows, the only other way to go is up. Things can't get worse, but if we're being honest, they don't alway get better. Brains don't work that way and you don't get any less depressed. You learn to live around it. That's the part everyone forgets to write down.

Nobody bothers to tell all the nasty little secrets about depression and anxiety. You didn't bother to mention how you threw up every meal you ate for days because your anxiety makes you nauseous. Does anyone know that you needed sleeping pills to sleep for three weeks straight? I bet it's hard to hide it from your friends. It can't be easy to keep a steady smile at a party when you want nothing more to be alone and cry. I’m sure nobody mentioned what it’s like to have a psychotic break. People don’t want their friends and family to know about the little devil perched on their shoulder, whispering sweet nothings. Nobody is going to enjoy reading a story about how you watched your mom’s heart break in two after you told her that voices were taunting you and daring you, so you don't write about it. Your head feels like a hurricane, doesn't it? Don't skip the specifics and tell the world what it wants to hear. Reveal all the dirty details about what depression did to you. If you're going to write about it, then write about it.

I haven’t read any stories about someone that just deals with their mental illness. I’m sure I could find stories like that somewhere on the Internet, but if I’m searching for a good read, I prefer mysteries. Life throws a lot of curve balls, so you either have to learn how to swing, or duck. If you’re going to tell me how you deal with being depressed, tell me how it feels to drown without water. Tell me how you can balance school and work and attempting to be social without having a meltdown, because that’s a heck of a lot more relatable than listening to you lie about how you finally found peace with yourself. Let everyone know that you've tried every anti-depressant in the books just to feel halfway human for awhile. Don’t write about how your boyfriend or girlfriend fell in love with you all over again while you were sick, because depression isn’t the least bit romantic. I'm also extremely doubtful that your relationship has enough strength to make you whole again, but that's just me. I want to know how you're avoiding dark thoughts and why you choose to put on a happy face each morning, or at least how you manage to perfect such a facade.

The motivational recovery stories have got to be the worst by fair. It’s like telling a triple amputee that he can make the NFL draft one day. Let’s face it, your inspirational message might touch hearts around the world, but it isn’t healing them. It’s more of a pick-me-up story for when you’re feeling down—it reminds you that things can get better (which is debatable). You beat depression, congrats! But are you sure you're better, or are you ignoring it? Are you going to swing low next week? How do you know you’re not going to wake up one day an invisible cinderblock weighing down on your stomach? Aren’t you afraid you'll go to bed with a storm in your head tonight? I bet it stole pieces of you that you'll never get back. Nobody tells you what life is like after hitting rock bottom. You don't go back to being the same person. If you're going to waste your time writing down your experience with depression, then don't censor it to keep your audience from getting uncomfortable. It's not their story.