Dr. Gbonjubola Abiri

She walked into my office like a burst of colour on a dark day. She was boisterous, animated and almost irreverently cheerful. I started to doubt the referral note as she appeared more of a visitor than the patient. She made a joke about therapy being her ‘new adventure’.

Within minutes however, like a pack of cards, her performance started to crumble. Her shoulders drooped, her smile disappeared, her voice crackled, tears welled up in her eyes as she broke down, sobbing quietly initially and then uncontrollably; like a dam that finally broke after years of silent pressure.

She lost her father as a teenager and never got time to truly grieve. Over the years, the harsh realities, challenging life situations and emotional exhaustion become the norm. Her joy, once real, now became the mask to ward everyone off.

“I’m so tired of pretending like it’s all okay Doc,” she whispered. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Everyone expects me to be okay, the strong one, but I’m not. And I haven’t been for a long time.”

Way too often, we expect depression to look, taste, feel, sound and smell like sadness, gloom or isolation. Sometimes, it wears the brightest of all smiles, it laughs loud, tells jokes, performs the best drama; hiding in plain sight. Depression is not always visible nor does it look the same for everyone.

The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that approximately 332 million people in the world have depression. It is no respecter of persons and remains under-reported, under-diagnosed and heavily stigmatized. People who make complaints are often dismissed, told to: “snap out of it” or “pray harder”.

Depression affects mood, energy levels, thinking, sleep, appetite, concentration and daily function. Feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness, helplessness, guilt, suicidal ideation and attempts may occur. Depression is treatable, but the danger lies in silence. We must treat depression with compassion and urgency, with therapy, medication when needed, and most importantly, support without judgment.

In therapy, my patient began to name what she had long buried: her grief, her fears, her anger, her exhaustion. The healing didn’t happen overnight. But naming the pain was the first step toward healing.

If you see someone who seems unusually “fine,” check in. If you’re struggling behind your own smile, know this: you are not alone. Speak up. Reach out. Help is available.

The day I met depression, I also met courage ,raw, messy, and beautiful. It looked like she finally allowed herself to fall apart, so she could begin again.

Remember there is no health without mental health.