I was diagnosed with clinical depression around 2013, but definitely suffered from it as early as 2007. At first I was very embarrassed and ashamed of it, especially when I first started taking antidepressants. I didn't want to take medicine / be in therapy for the rest of my life. It didn't help that my parents were under the impression that I could eventually get over it -- saying things like "you don't want to be in therapy forever do you?" "You want to eventually not have to take antidepressants, right?" After a few years, I stopped trying to "cure" myself and began to accept that it's going to be a part of my life (and that's okay). Even my parents slowly started to realize that it will always be present. In fact, I started to become a little grateful for my depression, because I think it gives me a unique perspective on the world and life in general. I'm pretty open about my diagnosis now. I've had a few people tell me they're taken aback by how honest I am about my struggles. I tell them that, for me, living with depression is like being grass. Too much happy, yellow sunshine will make you dry, dead, and brown, and too much gloomy, blue rain will make you gray and root-rotted. You need a healthy balance of both to be lush and green (my favorite color).