Here's my issue.
After all of the years that my mental illnesses have been mistaken for complacency, laziness, insensitivity, or good old millennial distractedness, when I found out that the symptoms I had pointed to depression, or anxiety, I admit it was a relief because I'd started to believe that I was crazy or any of the other things my mum, older sister, or teachers said I was.
I had no room to be angry at their failure to be open-minded about what could turn a quiet, hardworking child into a neurotic, compulsive teenager, because I just wanted to find out how to make it go away. (I would find the space to be enraged five or so years later.) But what ensued was a years-long battle trying to keep myself together enough to finish my studies, dust off my novels in progress and get back to writing and being the consistent blogger I once was.
As mental-illness became a more widely discussed topic, I began to use it as a word to vaguely describe my problems without having to go into detail, and because I was tired of saying the same things over and over: I'm tired, I'm empty, I don't see the point. I'm suffocated, I feel numb, I'm worthless. This is pointless, and so on. That all sounded far worse than just saying "I'm struggling with mental illness" or "I'm feeling depressed" and just leaving it there, letting the person interpret whatever they want.
This week, I had to take a day off work to see a GP to reassess my mental health needs. I had to wait a month for that appointment, and when I got there, the doctor didn't show. Turned out the secretary had put the wrong address on the letter and without apologising, said that the next available appointment would now be mid-October. I immediately and gratefully accepted but the moment I put the phone down I was furious. It hasn't been the first time that I've been messed around by NHS mental health services and as a consequence felt like no-one cares. Admittedly, a staggering number of people desperately need access to their services which is why I was grateful to get an appointment at all, but as a result nobody is truly given the kind of care they deserve. Ironically, private care would solve that issue but if I could afford that I wouldn't be on a four-month waiting list to see an NHS counsellor for little or nothing.
I've been listening to motivational videos all month, mainly Marie Forleo, Brian Tracy, Tony Robbins and Jim Rohn. I put into practice writing down my goals and how I want my life to be, and the type of person I want to be. As I was doing this, it hit me that if I don't want to be quote-unquote 'Depressed' - a Depressed person - then I have to stop identifying with being depressed. Such a simple concept, yet I didn't realise how much I came to rely on that label, using it find out where to get help and where it was safe to talk. Although it's important to me to have that safety net, I can't achieve anything amazing in my comfort zone. Also, since I have been cleaning up my diet and eating more fresh fruits and vegetables, drinking more water, taking time out of my day to doing something calming and relaxing, my mood has improved a lot. Though that might not always be the case, I have to seize this energy while I can.
I don't want to be depressed, or anxious - but joyful, appreciative and peaceful, so this is now my daily affirmation. I'm going to say it every day until I believe it. I don't want to suffer any more. I don't want to focus on the awful things that are always happening in the world and in my social circle. I can't change those things, only myself. I feel desperate to change, but I will turn this into determination to change.
When I think about myself, when I describe myself, I don't ever want mental illness to be a part of that. Easier said than done - but seeing as I said it, I might as well do it.
I wish I could go back and give my younger self a warm hug, and all the love and compassion I really needed and never received from anyone around me at the time. But you can't send love back in time.
Star .
