Depression Across Generations: 10 Insights From a Mother–Daughter Conversation on Living With Depression

3. Recognizing Depression Often Comes in Hindsight

As they talked, Terry asked Carly when she first recognized her own depression. Carly paused, reflecting on how elusive that awareness can be:

I can certainly remember really low lows… but so many people around me were also experiencing that, that it just felt like part of being a teenager in so many ways, or part of, being a young adult or part of those major life transitions.

It’s often only with hindsight—and education—that people see their symptoms clearly. At the time, they might chalk them up to hormones, adolescence, or stress. This shared blindness can make a household full of pain appear “normal.”

What this means:

• Many people normalize their symptoms because they seem universal.
• Awareness often comes only after learning more about mental health.
• Early recognition is powerful, but late recognition can still spark healing.

4. Small Coping Rituals Can Have a Big Impact

Terry shared a powerful childhood memory: the “worry jar” she created to help Carly manage nighttime anxiety.
Carly would write worries on slips of paper and seal them in a jar with a screw‑on lid. A nearby basket held slips of gratitude.

As Carly described:

The jar was where I would put the worries and then we’d screw on the lid… and the basket was for three things I was grateful for so they could breathe.

Why this is important:

• Small rituals can help children externalize worries.
• Gratitude practices can plant seeds for resilience, even if they’re hard to embrace at first.

5. Depression Doesn’t Always Look Like Sadness

Society often imagines depression as someone crying in bed, but high‑functioning depression is real. Terry’s experience shows that you can meet obligations, raise children, and even appear cheerful while quietly suffering.

As Terry eloquently put it:

It’s not like, Oh, I have an illness. It’s like, sometimes this happens… and then was like, Phew, mom’s back.

Carly reflected on this duality:

In the past, someone with depression did not look like you looked in my childhood. And the fact remains that someone with depression looks like exactly what you looked like in my childhood.

Key insights:

• Depression can wear many masks, including humor and productivity.
• High‑functioning individuals often feel unseen and unsupported.
• Recognizing hidden struggles is vital for true compassion.

6. Therapy and Antidepressants Can Be Lifelines

Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Carly spoke candidly about her treatment journey:

I’ve been on and off antidepressants… I’ve pretty much been in therapy since I was 18… First of all, none of them ever told me I had depression. You know, you are allowed to ask. I say this now knowing you can say, “What do you put as a diagnosis code?” And that can be a really important thing for you to know

This honesty is a reminder that the path to healing is often nonlinear. Medication and therapy can be tools you use for a season—or for a lifetime.

Actionable advice:

• Therapy can provide ongoing support through life’s changes.
• Medications can help rebalance brain chemistry and reduce suffering.
• Don’t hesitate to ask your provider for clarity about your diagnosis or treatment plan.

7. Trauma’s Impact Echoes Through Families

The conversation turned toward trauma and its far‑reaching effects. Carly brought in the words of Resmaa Menakem, a fellow social worker:

Trauma in a person, decontextualized over time, can look like personality… Trauma in a family, decontextualized over time, can look like family traits.

These words underline the importance of context. Without it, we risk pathologizing behaviors that are, in fact, adaptive responses to pain.

Why this matters:

• Families may label coping behaviors as flaws or quirks.
• By seeing the roots of these behaviors, we cultivate compassion.
• A trauma‑informed lens helps us understand that what kept us safe then might not serve us now.

8. Mental Health Days Can Teach Compassion and Boundaries

Terry reflected warmly on a parenting choice that normalized rest and self‑care:

I remember you coming down and saying, I need a mental health day… There was an understanding of varying capacity, of rest or needing a break.

These “mental health days” validated her children’s needs and showed them that mental well‑being deserves attention. As adults, they now see that those days taught them to honor their limits without shame.

Why it’s powerful:

• It models that rest is not a weakness but a necessity.
• It builds trust between parent and child, fostering open communication.
• It encourages kids to develop self‑advocacy skills early on.

9. Holidays Don’t Have to Be Picture‑Perfect

One Thanksgiving, Terry was too depleted to host a traditional holiday. Instead, she and her grown children ate turkey sandwiches in bed and watched movies together.

As Terry recalled with a mix of tenderness and honesty:

I didn’t have a drop. I just kept falling asleep while you watched it and waking back up because I wanted to be with you but didn’t have the energy.

Carly reflected on that day:

We just let all pretense go. It wasn’t for anybody else. It was for us… and it was one of the best Thanksgivings we’ve ever had.

Lesson learned:

• Let go of “supposed to” expectations.
• Sometimes the most memorable moments are the simplest.

10. Honest Conversations Can Heal Generations

Finally, Terry expressed vulnerability, admitting she worried what Carly might say about her parenting. Instead, the conversation was filled with grace and mutual understanding. Carly’s reflection sums it up beautifully:

I think there’s a way in which — because that was a grace that you extended us and a normalizing thing that you extended in our direction — I wonder if it made it easier for us to extend it in the other.

Final reflections from this insight:

• Healing is a two‑way street.
• Children raised with compassion often become adults who offer it back.
• Honest conversations rewrite family stories in real time.

Key Takeaways

If you only remember a few points from this conversation, let them be these:

• Talk about mental health openly: Your story might be the lifeline someone else needs.
• Consider the bigger picture: Trauma and depression can be passed down, but awareness interrupts cycles.
• Look beyond appearances: High‑functioning depression is real, and many who are smiling are still struggling.
• Use small, consistent tools: Simple rituals like worry jars or gratitude baskets can help regulate emotions.
• Seek professional support: Therapy and medication are not failures; they are tools.
• Validate the need for rest: Normalize taking mental health days and honoring capacity.
• Reimagine family traditions: Sometimes, the simplest moments—like turkey sandwiches in bed—become the most cherished.
• Name what was unspoken: Breaking silence about family trauma creates room for healing.
• Practice reciprocity in care: When parents model grace, children often mirror it back in adulthood.
• Stay curious and compassionate: Look at behaviors through the lens of context and survival, not just pathology.

Final Thoughts

This mother‑daughter conversation on the Giving Voice to Depression podcast is a reminder that healing often starts with words spoken aloud. When Terry and Carly sat down for this unscripted discussion, they modeled something rare and powerful: intergenerational honesty about mental health.

They showed that depression does not define a person—or a family—but it does shape experiences, relationships, and memories. By reflecting on rituals like the worry jar, the quiet Thanksgiving in bed, and the shared understanding of mental health days, they illustrated how small acts of care can resonate for decades.

These insights invite us all to consider our own family narratives. Where might silence have taken root? Which coping strategies were passed down without question? And most importantly, what new patterns can we choose moving forward?

Terry and Carly’s dialogue reminds us that it’s never too late to start these conversations. In speaking truthfully about our pain and our resilience, we light the way for those who come after us—and for those walking alongside us right now.

May their story encourage you to ask questions, to listen with compassion, and to believe that healing, while not always linear, is always possible.