Trigger Warning: The following article discusses mental health and depression.

According to the ADAA, Major Depressive Disorder affects more than 16.1 million American Adults. But when you’re in the middle of a depressive episode, you feel like you are the only person in the world.

I have been fighting depression since my early teens, but it took me a long time to identify. Over the years, I found that my depression can take certain forms. Depression is a shape-shifting monster. While some manifestations are easy to recognize, others come with disguises. These monsters isolate me and ensure that I stay trapped in their grasp. I don’t know when they are going to show up, but I know what they are.

Here are my top three “Depression Monsters”:

1. Lethargy

A lack of motivation and energy is my most identifiable monster. There are days where something will trigger me, and I refuse to leave my bed. This monster’s special power is draining energy. All I want to do is sleep. Because I don’t plan on getting out of bed, sleeping all day sounds like a perfect plan. In addition to the lack of energy, there is a lack of motivation. Nothing seems important enough to warrant leaving my bed. Activities, like eating, showering, and socializing are a low priority. Staying in bed becomes the optimal solution to everything.

It is easy to give in to this monster. It convinces me that the outside world is complicated and painful. The bed is my comfort zone. It is safe and it will protect me. Why bother doing anything if it’s going to make me feel worse?  The logic lethargy uses doesn’t make sense. But, if I attempt to fight its logic, it pins me down with another reason to stay put. It has the potential to trap me for days.

2. Anger

There are moments when everything makes me want to lash out. No matter what happens, nothing will make me happy. I have negative thoughts, find everyone annoying, and start fights with my husband. This monster was the hardest to identify for me. I never realized that depression could be anything but lethargy. I was used to becoming numb by not feeling emotion, so when I did feel an emotion, I assumed it was genuine.

If this kind of monster comes to visit, I can still function. I get out of bed, I eat, and I go to work. But everything is shrouded in a cloud.  I convince myself that I am in a bad mood, but I don’t take the time to wonder why. In the background, depression is tugging the strings. It took me a long time to realize that when I’m hostile, I could be compensating. The danger is, by the time I discover that the anger isn’t me, it’s too late. I wasted my energy on pushing every other emotion out. Anger is another way to feel numb.

3.  Impulsiveness

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a planner. I write lists and I stick to a schedule. But when this depressive monster takes form, it can turn me into something I don’t recognize. What makes it dangerous is that other people will mistake it for having fun.

Of course,  I want to go out and have a good time. My friends and I like to meet for a meal and have drinks. I am a responsible drinker, and I know my alcohol limits. Most of the time, I will stop at two drinks and go home. But this monster uses social drinking as a weapon. It prods me into letting go and saying, “screw it.” If I listen and keep drinking, I’ll be free. I won’t overthink. If I can’t think, I won’t be myself. If I am not myself, people will like me better. Therefore, drinking more will make me better.  Seductive logic. If I let this monster take control, it’s me giving up. Something snaps, and I don’t care what happens.

I am most afraid of the impulse monster of depression. It is becoming numb in a socially acceptable way. I see myself acting out, but I can’t scream for help. I am trapped and nobody realizes it.

Because I can recognize the forms that my depression takes, I have been able to establish plans of attack. Identifying a particular emotion as a sign of a depressive episode can help me move past it. Recognizing my monsters allows me to step back and say, “this emotion is not me.” But I am lucky to have someone close to me who can identify them too. If I am not strong enough to fight off a monster, I have a partner to help me fight. But I had to be honest with them first. My husband didn’t always see that my depression took different forms. Once I shared with him what my other monsters looked like, he is now able to help me fight them. It took courage to admit that I wasn’t strong. But now, the monsters aren’t as strong.

Not everyone is this lucky. Some people are trying to fight their depression alone. Depression is isolating. If you or someone you know is fighting monsters, I urge you to get help. No one should have to fight on their own.