For over a decade, I’ve been writing and researching perfectly hidden depression.
And I frequently get the question… “How am I supposed to know if someone is hiding? I can’t read their mind.”
So, I wanted to describe what exactly goes on that results in the ‘hiding’ of emotional pain – or disconnecting from it so habitually that you may even forget its presence.
Here’s an example:
I frequently put things away where I can find them later.
I convince myself they’re in a safe place, somewhere I’ll easily remember the next day, the next week. Or the next year.
Then when I need them, I can’t find them. I can remember the choice to get them out of my sight.
But, when it’s important to use them, they’ve vanished. I’ve put them somewhere where it’s too hard to find them.

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Disconnecting from pain can become habitual, even automatic.
When I interviewed volunteers who’d agreed to talk with me about their experience of “perfectly hidden depression,”, the vast majority of them answered “yes” to this question: “Did you grow up in a family where feelings of sadness or pain were avoided, or where you were criticized or punished for expressing them?”
They – and maybe you – grew up in a home where there was little to no emotional freedom.
It appears with PHD, that suppression of painful emotions becomes entrenched, a habit, and a way of living. It is even likely that the person who’s doing it no longer recognizes how they hide.
That someone may be you. You may have stashed your emotional pain away so effectively… that it feels as if you’re not sure how to reconnect with it. Or how to do that safely.
Identifying someone with perfectly hidden depression…
How do you know if you’re talking to someone with PHD? They are fantastic at evading detection, as they’re afraid of the vulnerability and loss of control involved.
But if you watch and listen closely, you will notice something. Even when they are talking about something painful — something that a lot of people might tear up or look sad about — their faces show very little emotion.
It’s normal to work through grief. It’s healthy to not be stuck in sadness. But this is different. This is active discounting or rigid denial of pain.
So, if I have someone with PHD in therapy, I will watch this process go on for a bit, and then ask a question.
“If I could hand you a video of the last ten minutes of this session, and I asked you to turn the sound down, what do you think you’d look like you were talking about?”
They usually don’t know how to answer.
“I promise you that you wouldn’t be able to tell that you were telling me about being raped in college.” Or, “Being flung across the room by your father,” or, “Watching your mother get drunk every night.”
“You look more like you’re telling me what you ate for dinner last night.”
Obviously, the actual events vary. But the strategy to cope with them is the same.
The rules behind perfectly hidden depression..
What are the rules?
Hide what you feel. Detach from your emotions. Show only what is safe to show.
Yet underneath, there’s intense sadness, or anger that has slowly dripped down into the deep recesses of your psyche. There’s self-doubt and insecurity, masked by perfectionism and always striving to be the best — at everything. An aching loneliness is masked by a smiling face that you believe protects you. You can be very anxious that your highly controlled world will come crashing down, and your vulnerability will be exposed. So, you grasp even more tightly to the image and “good life” you have created.
The better the life you’ve seemed to create, the more you feel the pressure to keep up the facade. The more perfect the life others perceive you to have, the harder you may feel you have to work to maintain that image.
It’s never ending.
It’s a vital skill in life to focus on the positive. No doubt about it.
You can carry a good thing way too far. You can avoid, discount and deny anything painful.
Breaking those rules..
Now, when it would be appropriate and healthy for you to feel those feelings, you struggle to get at them — because you’ve hidden them away so well. And they are keeping you from engaging in life fully.
It feels if you do, you’ll never stop crying, or your rage will consume you. If you don’t, you’ll never fully live.
You will stop crying. Your anger will fade.
But you can risk connecting with those feelings. And get the help you need to do so safely.
By the way…
Send me a message about what your own childhood was like!! You can record by clicking below and ask your question or make a comment. You’ll have 90 seconds to do so and that time goes quickly. By recording, you’re giving SelfWork (and me) permission to use your voice on the podcast. I’ll look forward to hearing from you!
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One of the main messages I recall from childhood was “big boys don’t cry.” Later, I was often told “you shouldn’t feel that way…look at the brighter side.” When my grandmother, who lived with us, died ( I was in junior high school) very little was said to me about it and the adults all gathered to grieve while I was given a project to do to “keep me occupied.” Luckily, as an adult, I realized I had problems with expressing my emotions and obtained therapy. Now, at the age of 68, I still have problems crying when sad and occasionally erupt in anger. But at least I don’t get stuck in those emotions but work my way through them with the help of a great wife and some good friends.
Great story Mike and probably oh so similar to many men and some women in our culture. Kudos to you for searching and finding another richer way of being. Thanks for reading and commenting.
As I read this, I can think of so many people I know who fit this description. Depressed but so hidden and unable to access those feelings. I think many people suffer from this and often have no idea.
I agree Rosemond and will continue trying very hard to reach them. Thank you.
To the outsider, my life seems perfect. Smart, beautiful children, big house, good husband, successful career. I always look put-together, very organized, envied even. But it’s a mask I wear. I have to make sure I fight on.
My entire life, we struggled with instability, divorce, father abandoned us, moved around, mother constantly under stress and suffering depression and overwhelmed by life. I had to be normal, perfect. Get all A’s, be a cheerleader, be happy, be independent. My earliest memories are of wanting to leave this life. I was jealous of the birds who could fly away. I wished and prayed to a God I didn’t believe in for money, security. My mom remarried a man, who had a good heart, but they argued constantly. We were always “your fucking kids” when they shouted at each other.
I kept wishing my life away. When I get older, it will be better, and I’ll be happy. When I’m in high school, college, when I graduate, when I get a job, when I get married, when I have kids. Well, there are some wonderful moments. You can say I’m blessed. But I’m almost 40 now and I am thinking…I can retire in 20 years, then I don’t have to leave the house or face the world, then I can die.
So I got help, again. Have tried therapy, every antidepressant known to man. New dr now. She recommended I read this blog. Tells me I am high functioning or PHD. I hope to one day soon, wake up and enjoy life. I hope my first thought will not be “when can I crawl back into bed.” It’s heavily in my family for generations. I have Chronic Major Organic blah blah …….
Anyway, it’s helpful to know I’m not alone. Such a stigma with mental illness. Sometimes I wish I could cut off an arm or leg and trade a mental disability for a physical one, just to be neurotypical. But that’s crazy, right? Of course, I wouldn’t. But if a car were coming straight at me, I don’t know that I’d move out of the way. The only thing that keeps me going is my children.
Amanda, I so appreciate you reaching out. I have heard from many just like you, sadly enough. If you’d like, please feel free to privately email me: askdrmargaret@146.66.99.73 , and we can talk further. Thanks so much. and please thank the doctor who referred you to this website. I wish I could thank her in person as well.