I’m always asked if I’m depressed. Every medical professional I see writes this on every single medical note at every medical appointment I attend.

I have a whooping great depression, with a side serving of anxiety and, honestly, unless you know me, you wouldn’t even be able to tell.

I’m a mum and I work. I have medical appointments coming out of my ears and the most organised diary you’ve ever seen, covering childcare for every appointment that is going to interrupt a school pick up. I managed to book eight hospital appointments off work in the space of a month, causing my new manager to worry that something was seriously wrong, but sometimes that’s just the way my appointments fall. My work calendar is equally as organised as my personal calendar and I don’t ever drop the ball at work – I can say that with confidence. My daughter is always where she needs to be, when she needs to be, as well. She comes first.

I usually seem and look pretty put together if I’m out and about.

Being depressed doesn’t always look like sitting at home and crying. It doesn’t always look like late nights being unable to sleep, not being able to get out of bed in the morning, unwashed hair and not being bothered to cook, although that’s how I’m sure the stereotype goes, and then some.

Sometimes, it can look like the person who looks like they have it all and that they’re managing okay.

I think I must fall somewhere in the middle.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard doctors tell me that I’m ‘coping really well considering’ – always with the word ‘considering’. I hear a lot of ‘coping’ or ‘managing’ too, probably at every medical appointment I have.

I’m coping, I’m managing, I’m getting by, I’m doing well, I’m trying. Considering everything – considering my face feels like it’s just taken blunt force trauma every minute of every day, considering I’m living with random pain all over my body that no one can quite pinpoint why, considering it’s difficult for me to see like I used to, considering I’m swimming in appointments and consultations and blood tests, considering I have fatigue every day.. And the rest. Has that word lost meaning for you now? Because it already has for me, a long time ago.

I do the day to day stuff pretty well and everything I need to get done always gets done. But I can’t remember the last time I saw my best friend, or the last time I managed to pamper myself uninterrupted, went on a walk, sat down and blogged. When it gets to an evening and I’ve done the things I need to do, I just want to sleep. I don’t want to do the housework, wash my hair, go out with friends, go on dates, blog, read or do anything I actually enjoy. I just want to sleep it off, but don’t ask me what ‘it’ is, because I don’t know.

I’m doing okay considering.

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