My eyes are heavy from crying. The crying that has been brewing for days. Driving home tonight I thought about how easy it would be to just start crying. No reason. Just need to cry.

A disagreement at home brought the tears to the front. The very front. At 6 p.m. on a Thursday night I found myself curled up in my dark bedroom sobbing. Still wearing my work clothes. I could have gone to sleep. I could have slept for days. I cried and sobbed. I tried not to sob too loud so I wouldn’t alert the kids, but I’m sure that No. 1 – who was sitting at the computer just outside my bedroom – heard me. It wasn’t because of the disagreement. This is what depression looks like for me.

I stayed there nearly an hour. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t tend to my children. I just wanted to sleep. Just wanted to be alone. Didn’t want to talk or laugh or move. I stayed there until The Mr. came in, asked if I was OK and reminded me that I had to go get No. 2 from Girl Scouts. If it weren't for that, I would have fallen asleep.

I cleaned myself up as much as I could, but there’s no hiding red eyes that scream I’VE BEEN CRYING FOR THE LAST HOUR. I avoided eye contact with the Scout leader because I didn’t want her to ask me about it.

At home, I was heavy. I was tired. My eyes were still heavy. I just wanted to go to bed. I couldn’t bring myself to laugh at my children’s silly antics or to sing along to my favorite songs on the radio. I felt angry. And tired. I just wanted to be alone.

I found myself going through the motions: get up, shower, get dressed, make breakfast. Just doing it because I knew it had to be done.

This is depression. And it sucks. It makes me want to curl up and die. It takes the joy out of life for me. Mostly it makes me want to cry.