Iāve been feeling sick for almost a week now. I donāt like taking medication, but lately Dayquil, Advil and handfuls of cough drops have been my bread and butter. My mom even went to the extent of making me chicken noodle soup. I felt slightly better after the soup and crackers, and confident that I was no longer on my deathbed I was comfortable enough to go to sleep.
I may be reading too deep into things, but as itās Mental Health Awareness Month, Iāve been thinking too hard about everything. I wonder why itās so easy to address physical health issues, to talk about them and treat them, and ultimately leave them behind. Why is mental health so much more complicated and difficult?
Iāve always known that I had a mental illness, and I know I will live with it for the rest of my life. Although itās a little daunting to think about, I canāt say I wish I didnāt have this mental illness. I know that I am who I am thanks in part to it. Although it can be a struggle some days, I consider it a fundamental part of my identity. Still, I only recently became comfortable talking about it openly. Why did it take me until I was 18-years-old? Iāve received nothing but love and support from anyone Iāve talked to since, and thatās something I didnāt expect from our culture of shame and stigma.
Iāve already overcome the stigma of going to therapy and went to several sessions during my freshman year of college. However, I didnāt make time for it during sophomore year and I regret that. I already know that I need to make time for it in my schedule this upcoming school year. My school provides free sessions (to a certain extent) and I know thatās a luxury I wonāt be offered once I graduate.
I donāt really know where Iām going with this, I just know Iām sick and Iām tired and I want to be able to have open conversations about my mental health. With Awareness Month about to wrap up, I want everyone to feel like they can engage in an open dialogue about their own mental health, just as easily as we talk about our physical health.
