Things are starting to fall into place and starting to make sense. I'm not close to my family, and have never outrightly told them about my depression and, my newly found anxiety, which I realise has always been there but not recognised. My mother has just emailed me (we live in different countries) to say that she's having a hard time going back to work and her doctor has started her on anxiety meds. It's probably the closest we've ever come to publicly acknowledging mental health in my family - the closest before that was me finding a book on teenagers with depression in her cupboard. We never discussed it, but I guess it was her way of trying to figure me out. And thinking back, things slide into place. We've never spoken about it, but I suppose my mother has probably had some depressive episodes in the past. I don't think they were major, but somehow, I feel like she might understand me better. But it also makes me a little angry. If she can understand because she's been through it, why could she never talk to me about it? Why could she buy and read a book about understanding depression without bringing it up? How can she take me to the doctor after my first self harm episode and when we left the office, never speak about it again? I know it's hard to speak about. I do understand that. I understand that the behaviours of my mother and my family environment have lead me to also bottle things up. I just can't help wondering - if she had spoken more, if we had spoken more, would we have a better relationship? How different might my life have been if, as a family, we spoke about this?