“I beat depression and was able to go outside again, brush my hair, be funny and re-establish an extensive skin care routine.”

I don't read magazines.
Except for Stylist, because it's, you know free. And quite good.

Around two years ago I was probably blowing thirty quid a month on perfume-scented pages of bullshit, but I discovered blogs and online mags and found a load of content that was funnier, more relevant and more inspiring that anything that I'd ever read in Glamour (I'd been, worryingly, reading it since I was about 15, so I think it had had more than enough time to prove itself).
The only time, in the last year, that I've relapsed in my magazine abstinence was when I was depressed. It feels quite weird typing that. Weird and embarrassing; I'll probably have to walk around pretending to scratch my forehead for the next six weeks. People kept buying me magazines because that's what you do when people are ill, and I kept reading them because anything that distracted me from my own thoughts seemed like a good idea. They didn't help, of course, and just made me feel uglier and more ashamed that I hadn't been outside for three days.

I'm currently living with my mum and sister, so occasionally a girly mag does find its way into the house. I like to think that it wanders in, like the little milk carton from Blur's Coffee and TV video, rather than accept that someone has actually bought it. When I do find one, sometimes I nudge it along the floor with my foot until it's underneath the sofa or the rug, but at other times, when I'm feeling particularly passive aggressive, I decide to flick through it- just to 'check in'.
I found myself doing this on Thursday evening, half searching for the one article that I was desperate to see nine months ago; an article about me, because at the time I was completely unable to separate myself from depression. I was depression and depression was me. I wanted to know that depression was something that attractive, shiny-haired, successful ladies got and wasn't just something that I'd let happen to myself because I'm rubbish.
So, I flicked through, but, after being told all of the exciting things that I can do with an ice cube (what if I have sensitive teeth, Cosmo, what then? HUH?), I came to no avail. None of them gave me The D.

I don't know why, women's magazines are supposed to be all ballsy now, aren't they? They will happily give us unrealistic advice on how to negotiate a pay rise or incredibly detailed, yet ultimately unhelpful, instructions for how to find the G Spot, but a meaningful, uncomfortable exploration into mental illness?
Nope.
I have noticed though, that post-natal depression seems to make it through the net. This is good, don't get me wrong. I think that this is because it can be quite neatly explained; it's the baby's fault. Your hormones went nuts, from the baby, and that's why you're depressed. Done. Plain, old, original depression can be a bit more tricky. Sometimes it isn't triggered by an unexpected redundancy, or the end of a marriage; sometimes you just wake up one day and feel indifferent, or disappointed, about the fact that you did.

Obviously, women's magazines should do more mental health pieces. One in five of us will have to deal with some sort of depression in our lives; so that right there is the reason why they should. I'm more curious as to why they're not featuring them, like, now.

Maybe it's because, when it comes to mental health, you really can't make any sweeping generalisations. Sweeping generalisations like all women are looking to climb the career ladder, or that we're all after dewy skin. Although, I find that duvets often crop up in most depression stories, so maybe that would be a good place to start?
No one's story is the same, and whilst I'm sure that it would be helpful for people who are suffering with depression to read about an experience that mirrors their own, that says all of the things that get stuck in your throat when someone says “So, how are you doing now?”, I don't think it's a necessity. At times, just seeing the word, all be it in an obnoxious pink typeface, would help, acting as a reminder that it's an actual thing, and isn't just you.

The fact that mental health can't really be generalised means that creating neat little 'Top Ten Tips For Dealing With Depression' would be a real bitch. Girl mags really like stuff like that; Top 69 Sex Positions (ooh-er, I see what you did there...), Top Five Cleansers, Top 10 Things It's Ok To Say (thanks for the sign off, guys).
Mental illness isn't really a 'top ten' kinda thing, it's more of a 'Just Give Me One Little Thing That Will Make Today Slightly Better Than Yesterday' kinda thing. Catchy.

And finally, more often than not, there's no 'big wow' headline when it comes to mental illness. The 'I Beat ____ And Found The Man/Job Of My Dreams' formula is a little redundant. I'm sure that some people do have 'big wow' stories, I hope so, but unfortunately for some there's no real finality to mental illness. It's not the chicken pox; you don't get it once and then go on to enjoy a life of immunity.
Mental illness also changes your perspective of what constitutes a 'big wow'. Finding your ideal man or your dream job seem completely remote, whereas doing 'normal' stuff again, like going to Wagamamas or laughing, is just the best.

What would my 'big wow' headline have been?
It's up there.