Social Health

It gets better when we make it better. At HIM, we have a pretty simple idea: gay men with high self-esteem tend to live healthier lives and have access to better health choices. We're interested in improving social health factors that impact gay men, including the big-picture stuff like homophobia and heterosexism. We also have listings for our Professional Volunteers who specialize in social health.

How Do I Come Out as Depressed?

Posted by HIM on Thursday December 16th, 2010

How do I tell him?

We've known each other too long for him not to notice.

We're too close for me to lie about it.

He probably already knows, but still, I think I have to say the words.

"I'm depressed."

Some would not find this admission to be a surprise. Others are shocked to find out and tell me they had no idea.

Ignorance is bliss.

I, like many other gays, do not have this luxury. In fact, I've been depressed for the majority of my life, which is depressing really... As glib as I am about it, I also recognise the seriousness of depression. I understand that it ruins lives; and that in the past year four gay teen suicides have been highly publicised and that the media is finally starting to show the dark side of bullying.

But back to my self-involved little dilemma. How do I come out and say to my boyfriend that I'm depressed?

Again, depression is one of those things which can fly under the radar. A lack of enthusiasm is often overlooked by friends with more bombastic personalities. Especially if the person in question has been depressed for a while, and at this stage I'm pretty much a professional. My boyfriend knows that I've been depressed, but I've always assured him that it was, "in the past." It's becoming pressing though. We've moved in together, we have a cat, and my friends say we're basically married. This basically worries me.

It worries me because I still have this not so secret pride to me. You've got to have pride when you're as insecure as I am, but the bravado doesn't make for a very good boyfriend. Rather, it makes for some pretty standoffish moments when I get called on something minor like not washing my dishes, which is bullshit because he doesn’t wash them either. Deflections and personal attacks ensue and one of us ends up sleeping on the couch that night. It doesn't happen often, but when it does I admit that it worries me. That if I could just take some criticism we'd be better off.

Alan Downs, author of Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain of Growing up Gay in a Straight Man's World explains this virulent reaction that I've just discussed. He claims that such things are the overcompensation for having grown up with no role models in a hostile environment. It's pretty obvious, yet no less depressing. As the rest of the world argues about whether or not gay people are real people worth the same rights and protections as the rest of the population, gay people can’t afford to wait as our emotional well-being erodes.

I can’t wait as my relationship erodes. So I think it’s time I start living more authentically and be honest. I know better than to think that my depression is a deal breaker. In fact, the only real fear I have about telling him is that he may begin to treat me like I’m damaged. That, rather than being two equals in a relationship, I’ll be relegated to an inferior, infantilised status and he’ll have to look after me in some capacity or another.

The problem with naming a fear, is that it’s rarely just a matter of being afraid of one, obvious thing. Unless, of course, that fear is spiders, those freak me out. Rather, this kind of apprehension is more ethereal and complex. So what am I afraid of?

I’m afraid of finally letting someone know just what my particular brand of crazy is. I’m afraid of letting him in past the bravado, beyond the intelligence, and seeing just how infantile I am.

Yet as I write this, I see that in a trick of narcissism, I’m not seeing the whole situation properly. I often look to the gay community for strength. I see our collective spirit and strengths that we have developed as a response to all the shit we’ve had to put up with. The one upside of having so much of our identity being shaped by struggle, is that it’s given us a community with the tools to cope.

In the case of my dilemma, I know my boyfriend won’t judge or resent me. He knows how to share his feelings, it’s just a matter of reciprocity. He may already suspect something in which case this is just a healthy, honest step. I need to come out to him as depressed.

-Keith Reynolds