I said “I’m depressed” instead of “I’m just having a hard week” and the whole room became more honest

Dear Delyara, I had been circling that word for months. Using smaller language. Safer language. Acceptable language. The sort of language adults use when they still want to look manageable enough to remain lovable and useful. Tired. Flat. Burned out. Stressed. Overwhelmed. All of those words held fragments of the truth. None of them held the whole thing. This time I said the real word. Depressed. I said it in the doctor’s office and then later to someone who loves me, and in both rooms I felt the same thing — terror first, then relief, then a strange steadiness I hadn’t felt while still pretending the problem was smaller than it was. There is a kind of dignity in naming pain accurately. I had forgotten that. I don’t want to forget it again.