"Me? I'm Doing Fine. Really. Fine!"
Living with the Great Depressed can really take it out of you, right? Trying to understand their situation, planning around bouts of inactivity, never expressing your frustration with someone who acts like they can't walk from the sofa to the mailbox even though they appear to be perfectly healthy ...
But it's OK. Squashing down your feelings because they haven't been diagnosed as anything, carrying on as if everything's great and never acknowledging that you're finding this really fucking hard will be fiiiiine. That resentment will surely never come leaping out of the darkness to ambush you when you least expect it.
When I was at my lowest, I later found out that it was really tough for my boyfriend because he "never knew who was going to be at home that night." Was I going to be faking my way through dinner and pretending to laugh at Drag Race, or would I be locked in the bedroom and totally unresponsive? We actually devised a very scientific system where I'd text him a rain cloud if I was feeling shit, or a score out of ten and an actual message if I was feeling alright.
This can -- surprise! -- affect their mental health, which is compounded by the feeling that their own problems aren't worth attention. He can't possibly complain about his stressful client call to someone who occasionally wants to kill herself, since that's so much worse. If you're trying to support and/or care for a depressed person, it can feel like they're sucking away all of your energy. It's draining enough that even therapists seek out the help of other therapists to deal with it, and they're getting paid.