When my mom was 23, she dumped her boyfriend and then spent most of a month in bed, unable to make herself get up and do anything. If this happened to one of my friends today, I would say that sounds an awful lot like depression, and that she should consult a doctor. I’ve broken off a few serious relationships, and all of them involved tears, but I was always able to get myself out of bed the next day. But this is because I haven’t been depressed (knock on wood!).

So every once in a while, for the next 20 or so years, she would go through spells of feeling gray and dead inside, having no motivation to do anything — neither fun things nor boring things — and sleeping way more than usual. There was one episode where she would stay in bed in her pajamas all day and only get out of bed and dressed an hour before my dad got home from work, so he wouldn’t figure out what was going on. And he didn’t. He wasn’t a particularly observant man, and my mom went to college for theater. She’s a good actor.

She told me these things and I asked her, confused and somewhat horrified, “Did you just think that was normal?”

It turned out, she did! She did just think those spells happened to everyone. They don’t, but they did happen to my grandmother and a few other women in the family. Of course, Mom didn’t find this out until she was in her 40s and Grammy was in her 60s, because they were of two generations (Boomer/Greatest) and a culture (my grandmother was very waspy) which did not talk about those things. Even after hearing the phrase “depression,” it took her a long time to realize it applied to her; she thought being depressed meant feeling sad, and during her episodes she didn’t usually feel sad. Sometimes that can be a symptom, but it often isn’t. But if you’ve been finding yourself lacking all motivation and energy, struggling to even do basic, necessary things — like getting out of bed for a shower, for example — you should talk to a doctor about that.

My generation is a lot better and more open when it comes to talking about mental illness. Of course, this does lead some to think that mental illnesses are some sort of made-up newfangled youth notion. Have you ever read an old book where someone talks about their “nerves,” or “takes to their bed?” Sounds like anxiety and depression to me. Just because you don’t talk about a problem or face it head-on doesn’t mean it goes away. I suspect many generations have self-medicated with alcohol, like I used to, before I got real medication for my anxiety disorder.

Even after figuring out that she was prone to depression, it still took a long time for my mom to feel comfortable calling it a mental illness, because, as she told me, when she was growing up being “mentally ill” meant being institutionalized. And since she was usually fine, surely she didn’t have a mental illness, right? But just as physical illnesses happen on a scale, so do mental illnesses. Cancer can be a mole you punch out at a dermatologist’s office and never think about again, or it can spread through your body and kill you. Depression can mean every couple of years you can’t get out of bed for a few weeks, or it can be — well, it can kill you.

Mom started doing talk therapy in her late 40s, but what she says really made a difference for her was starting antidepressant medication in her fifties. She’s not “cured,” exactly, in the same way my anxiety issues won’t ever be “cured.” But she is familiar enough with her body/mind connection to know when a depressive episode is coming on — the first symptoms are usually a feeling of being constantly overwhelmed, and sleeping a lot more than usual — and when she feels those symptoms, she gets a refill of her medication and goes on a multi-week course (depending on doctor’s orders, of course). It’s similar to how people who are prone to getting pneumonia can feel it coming on and go get antibiotics to head it off at the pass.

It took a long time for Mom to stop feeling an unwarranted sense of shame surrounding her depression, which is precisely why I asked her if I could write about it. My mom is a Baby Boomer, and I know a lot of folks around her age (which will, of course, go unstated) read this column. Everyone expects a messy millennial like myself to struggle with mental health, but they might not expect it from New York Times Best-Selling Author Julia Spencer-Fleming.

If any of her experiences ring true to you, I’d recommend talking to a doctor about it. Mom’s life has improved since she started treating her depression. She always told me, growing up, that it’s OK to ask for help when you’re struggling. I’m so proud that she has.