Ashamed of who I am

I'm 17 (almost 18), suffering from depression and social anxiety. For the past few months, I have not been a very present listener here and this was the reason. I couldn't go on helping others while I needed help myself. So, I decided to back off a little bit.

Ever since November 2014, school was getting more and more annoying for me, although I had always been very much keen on it. Little by little, I got more annoyed with homework and papers to write, research to do, lessons to listen to. I distracted myself a lot during classes ? drawing, thinking, chatting. Eventually, by the end of the second trimester, the teacher often warned me from laughing a bit too much and too loud. I was getting much less sleep at night, and it deeply affected my nerves. When I came back from school, I just sat at my desk, waited a few minutes, checked the social media and just lay in my bed and took a nap. It became a habit. I was feeling very low. I was hiding it all inside of me. I smiled around my family and laughed around my classmates. Yet, my mood was getting down and down. At night, I couldn't sleep yet I did not feel so much tired during the day. I was acting like all was fine. Waking up was getting harder. Once, it was so tough that I spent the whole morning quiet ? my classmate noticed and asked me what was going on. I stayed silent. Then, I moved on ? got back on track with the laughing, didn't want to ruin everyone's day. It followed all year long. I was smiling during the day and at night all my thoughts came crushing back at me, hindering mefromspending a good night. When we went on our school trip, I spent most of the days walking alone, nobody paying attention to me or my mood. I became someone else. A split-personality person. I was ashamed of myself. A few times I tried sending hints through the social media of my mental state such as following sad quotes pages etc. One of the first huge triggers of my mental breakdown was when I was asked to comfort a classmate who'd been crying right next to me. First of all, I was jealous because she succeeded in showing her feelings and then why would I help someone whereas I do not ever get help?! I was confused. I tried getting better. Nobody noticed. My parents didn't probably because my grades remained the same. One of my teacher might have noticed but I'm not sure. Otherwise I was getting quieter and quieter in class (more than ever, which is a lot!). People didn't/don'tcare.Someday, in class, I was having a huge mental breakdown that it started hurting physically. I was dizzy so I asked my fellow classmate to ask the teacher if I could go to the bathroom for a sec. She did but the teacher wanted me to go alone ? even though I didn't as I wanted to have a conversation about anything else to get my mind off of it. I breathe heavily, the urge to cry was stronger but as always I contained myself. I got back in the classroom and no one asked me if I were okay or anything else. Then, I realized I didn't mean anything to them. Another time, the class had gone out for a break and I insisted on staying in the classroom. I was alone,desperately wantedto burst out into tears but what if my makeup betrayed me? What if someone entered the classroom? Later, I felt like I should've. At least someone would have noticed my tears. But I learn to control my face, feelings, actions/reactions. Once at a family dinner, my uncle threw some bad joke which recalled of my dad's struggle with addiction. My little sister immediately broke down and left the room. Later, I told my mom why she had left and she told me "Wow! You heard? And you contained yourself (from making an argument out of it I suppose) I admire you for being so transparent!". I just wanted to tell her how much I hated being able to contain my feelings so freaking much.

Ionce was that super duper optimistic person and I remembered things people told me such as the strength I seemingly had, my positive perspective despite my young age etc. (I even once posted here about thispositivity I used to have). Thus, I felt guilty as if I was betraying all these people who told me that I inspired them. I was ashamed. I still am. Of having no friends, of being socially anxious.Yet, everyday the loneliness grows stronger, the darkness becomes heavier. I do not want to deceive my family. I do not know to show them this other side of me.To this day, I haven't yet told anyone about my feelings. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to.