Being a deeply depressed and anxiety-ridden person, sometimes it really is impossible for me to get out of bed. Sometimes I am late for work because I couldn’t rip the covers off of my skin quick enough, or I couldn’t bare to open my eyes to see the light of day. Some nights, I really was up until 4 a.m. sobbing for no apparent reason at all. Others, I was up until 4 a.m. just sitting there in the dark, begging my mind to stop racing for a few minutes so that my body could get some rest. Sometimes I really don’t have enough time to put makeup on in the morning, and you’re lucky that I rolled out of bed five minutes before my shift or I wouldn’t be here at all. Sometimes, yes, I did wake up late, and yes, I could have come to work late instead of skipping the whole shift --but sometimes the anxiety that comes with thinking about seeing my boss’s disappointed face is too much to handle. Sometimes I really couldn’t make it to class or couldn’t finish that assignment on time because I was too busy trying to calm myself down from an anxiety attack or a depression episode. And that should be okay.
It is not an excuse if I have no control over it.
Dear Yet Another Professor That Doesn’t Care About My Issues,
I am not e-mailing you about my illness to get out of a quiz or get an excused absence. I’m not trying to gain your pity or even your empathy, really. Because, simply, I shouldn’t have to. If I have a doctor's note that describes my mental illness and the effect it may have on my academic, professional and/or personal life, then no, I do not consider it an excuse.
I’m not skipping out on class because I’m hungover, or already drunk, or high or just don’t care. Those are excuses. I’m not too lazy to drag my tired feet to a classroom to sit for three hours. I’m not too busy drowning myself in alcohol or drugs.
I’m too busy trying not to die. I’m too busy trying to get my mental health together. I’m too busy sitting in front of a mirror asking, “Why me?” as mascara rolls down my cheeks. I’m too busy at therapy appointments, and chatting with online therapists, and trying desperately to find some answers. I’m too busy immersing myself in a supportive online culture so that I can make sure I know that I’m going to wake up the next morning.
I’m too busy trying to remember to take my pills, remembering to smile, to laugh, to do anything I can to distract myself from the endless crying.
Sincerely,
Student Affected by Mental Illness
I have bad days.
We all do.
But some are worse than others, and it’s time people start acknowledging that a mental illness is just as crippling, sickening, and important as a physical one.
