I was that way too. I was so afraid of anyone seeing my despair that I kept it to myself. Why do we do it? I'm not really sure. I know that my parents response to despair (in other words, my dissatisfaction with anything at all) is always anger.
But when I came out with it, I was met with understanding and (a little) support too. Maybe because they treated it like it had no cause other than the random fucked-up'd-ness of my brain. To this day, my family is too proud to talk about causes (REAL causes) of unhappiness. For example, I told everyone that my biggest problem was loneliness, and I am still alone now, even though I have my pills.
So now I'm on medication, and I like to credit it with changing me, but it only does so much, and often I wonder if it does anything at all.
But stay with us Amy. I am not leaving. You don't want to leave the rest of us do you?