When I was seven, my dad and I were driving home from one of my soccer games and I was ranting over some girl that did something “mean” to me — she must have stuck her tongue out at me or kicked me above my shin guards or something. I was so angry, and probably calling her names, when my dad stopped me. “You don’t know her.” I remember him saying, “She might have been having a bad day or a bad week. Maybe she’s a bad person, but you don’t know her, so you can’t judge her”. It’s funny how nearly 13 years later that conversation still sticks out in my head. What I didn’t realize was how true those words would pan out to be as I got older.
When I was a senior in high school, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. It didn’t come as a shock to me because for years I knew something was up. The littlest things, like going out for dinner with a big group of people, or going to football games with my whole school being there, would make me so nervous and overwhelmed that nine times out of ten, I’d end up bailing. I’m sure people thought that I was a bitch, or closed off, but I was literally just terrified of being around anyone that I didn’t really know. As I grew older, the social anxiety got better, but the depression did not. I put on a happy face for my friends and family because I did not want to admit that something was not right with me. It was easier to smile, laugh and pretend that the depression wasn’t there.
Once I did finally open up to my parents, they were shocked. They believed what I was saying and got me the help that I really needed, but they were still dumbfounded, and I don’t blame them. I wasn’t the type to walk around with a metaphorical dark cloud over my head. I got pretty good grades, hung out with my friends after school, had a job and was applying to colleges. I was a typical teenager. There weren’t red flags or explicit warning signs. I told my closest friends, and their reactions were similar. Supportive and understanding, but also surprised that the same girl who loved singing country music with the windows down and impromptu nights out had such a hard time getting through the day at some points. I am the friend who makes sure everyone else is okay and in good spirits. It's important .
It was then that I remembered the conversation I had with my dad when I was in second grade. “You don’t know her, so you can’t fairly judge her”. I saw then how little most people really knew me. I don't think anyone would look at me and think that I struggled with a mental illness.
If it was so easy for me to mask the sadness I was facing, I could only imagine how many people could be walking around dealing with the same feelings I was. I have my own demons to face, just like everyone else in this world. We've all got our demons and ghosts, mistakes we'd rather not bring up around mixed company and huge, unexpected, heartbreaking losses. What makes us human is our ability to feel all types of emotions; happy, fearful, angry, sad etc; and as humans we have two options on how we decide to treat people; bring happiness to their day or add grief on top of whatever challenge they are already facing.
Everyone walks around with issues that they don't want to necessarily share with everyone they meet, and as humans, we have two choices regarding how we treat each other. We can be judgmental and superficial towards the people that we meet, or choose to treat them with compassion instead. Recognize that everyone is fighting their own battles and try to be a bright spot to combat their metaphorical dark cloud. Make a positive impact on someone's life, rather than a negative one.
