I think it is appropriate for me to assume that there has been a time and a place where we've all felt an extreme form of emotion: sad, happy, angry, stressed, so on and so forth. And although emotions are always present and should be felt, it is when emotions inhabit who we are rather than what we feel.
May is the month of Mental Health Awareness, observed here in the U.S. since 1949--and although the conversation is now more easily talked about, it is still a difficult thing to come to articulate for those who suffer from theirs. A big reason why I was able to better myself in regards to my mental health was that there was another brave soul who chose to speak about theirs (or willing to speak and listen about it).
Within these simple but meaningful moments, I felt community in a time where all I knew was solitude. So now I have chosen to say my peace to continue the notion of speaking out, and hopefully prompting others to feel comfortable with their own stories.
I used to think when I first encountered the entity was the beginning of my junior year of high school. But as I think more and more about it, I can't quite mark the first time I could say I've truly had my mental health shaken and aware: possibly my freshmen year of high school when I got my first "low grade" in my honors Spanish class, perhaps it was the summer before my junior or sophomore year I the midst of family related worries, or maybe it was when I lived in another country for a year and didn't understand why--whatever the starting case, I wouldn't have fathomed I'd ever been talking about this topic in regards to myself.
The thing is, I don't think anyone ever wants to assume what they are going through at the moment involves mental health problems is related to so...and let me say that I for one am no different. Mental health has become such a prominent concept in my life, kept watched and constant, that is being seen, as written, practically as a living thing.
In reality, we all really do live with mental health, but we usually interpret the idea for all the negatives it is, making it harder to still speak about. I mean, I don't think anyone wants to have thoughts about ending their life or putting themselves or others in danger or breaking people's heart, let alone actually do these things. Unfortunately, people have seasons of their lives where they do face this negative reality of what mental health is, as my own mental health struggles have come and come like the Chicago cold--some kinder than others but never harsh forever.
But nonetheless, it was difficult to live with; not just for the obvious reason of terrible thoughts and physical repercussions, but not feeling worthy to feel or accept these circumstances. I truly know I worsened my condition over the years by feeling like I wasn’t allowed to speak about it, and thus, did not. It’s sad to think that there were days I looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognize who I had become, and even sadder that I kept pretending I was okay. I was seen as a very high achieving, outgoing, and social girl (the words of others) and it felt like almost all the good things in my life were a box I was trapped in.
However, as I’ve said, communication is what brings you to actually getting help (as obvious as it sounds). I felt like nobody went through what I went—a mindset that which almost led me to take my own life. Further isolation only tricks us into thinking we’re doing what’s best when we are doing the worst. Amongst the threshold, by God’s glory, I didn’t give my life to let mental issues become their own person and I took small talks to speaking to others: first close friends, then school faculty, next to my family, to actual professionals.
Sometimes it just takes small steps to make big changes.
At the beginning of self-care or possible recovery, it all seems far away; patience is surely a virtue. And that does go for having to fall again to learn to get even better. It gave me a whole new perspective and, again, gave back to others, making them feel comfortable with accepting their own.
Courage comes in so many ways, sizes, and is different for all, I see communication is one of those courages. It not only helps you, but others, and shows them in a weird way you love them (is what I learn). To start loving myself, I had to learn to love others in that way and to let others love me. This article was messy and so was a few seasons in my life, but I still believe to this day, it didn’t define me as I’m here.