Behind the Scenes of My Mental Health Struggles

** This post contains discussion of mental health issues, including depression and anxiety and thoughts of hopelessness. Please take care in reading. And remember: ** if you or someone you know is in crisis or distress, please call or text 988 for free and confidential support. And, if you are a military member in need of additional support, please text the Veterans Administration at #838255.

My intent this week is twofold.

First, to put a face on one of the many ways that mental health struggles can manifest.

And second, to hopefully normalize mental health struggles so that if you’re someone who can relate, you can know that you’re not alone.

As I mentioned in the first blog this month, mental health issues exist on a spectrum. I can only talk about the kind of mental health issues with which I feel I’ve struggled. So, what I’m about to say doesn’t apply to all mental health issues or to anyone else’s experience with their own mental health issues.

My experience, albeit undiagnosed, has been with anxiety and depression. I know that most mental health professionals would caution against self-diagnosing. (And honestly, I have some issues with the “checklist approach” of the mental health profession, which assumes that in order to make a diagnosis, not only does a person have to “meet all the criteria,” but also that there is some generally accepted view of what is and isn’t “normal.” Needless to say, notions of what is “normal” are rooted in white supremacy - a topic for another day).

So, although I may not have a technical, clinical diagnosis of anxiety or depression, I have realized in recent years that this feels like how my lived experience can be categorized.

If you’d told me 10 years ago that I could be prone to anxiety and depression, I would have LOL’d big time. No way would I have thought that I would suffer from anxiety or depression. I was raised in the 70’s and 80’s. I’m a strong, independent, resilient midwesterner who grew up as a latchkey kid and knew how to take care of herself. I’m successful with a good career and amazing athletic accomplishments. I put myself through college, law school, and a masters program. I’m the one other people come to with their problems. I’m usually the life of the party. I’m outgoing and fun to be around. I was raised to pull myself up by my bootstraps. No way in hell could you have told me that I’d be prone to anxiety and depression.

But see . . . that’s the thing with this jacked up system in which we live. We are fed a boatload of bullshit about what it means to be “normal,” “happy,” “strong,” etc. And anything that deviates from that even in the slightest, is deemed “abnormal” or “weak.”

Speaking for my fellow GenX’ers and probably the Baby Boomers too, we were rewarded for “moving past” difficult things. For “sucking it up.” For “turning that frown upside down.” For “looking on the bright side.” As my badass WWII Marine Corps grandpa, Papa Norman, used to say, “just look around, and you’ll see that someone has it worse than you.” So by God, when you feel like crying or complaining, you’d better stuff it down and think about someone who has it worse than you.

And although I agree that it can help to give perspective to look around and see that a lot of folks indeed do have it worse than you, I feel, more often than not, that this kind of polly-anna bullshit comes with two huge costs.

First, it dismisses, denies, denigrates, and devalues our own experience. It basically says, “your pain isn’t worthwhile because someone else may be in worse pain.” If that’s true, then where does that comparison stop? Does that mean that the person next to you, who’s in more pain than you, also isn’t entitled to their pain because it’s not as bad as the pain of the next person down the line?

Which brings me to the second cost, which is that it puts us in a constant state of “compare despair.” You see, comparing our pain to someone else’s isn’t a one way street. We don’t just look to find who may be in worse pain than us; we also look to see who isn’t in as much pain as us. And when we realize that there are a lot of people who aren’t in as much pain as us, then we start to wonder “well, why can’t I be like that person? Why isn’t my life that good? What’s wrong with me?” Then it’s like we’re in this disorienting game of ping pong where we know we’re not “as bad off” as some people, but we’re also not as “well off” as other people.

Bottom line: comparing your pain to someone else’s pain, for better or worse, is a waste of time, in my humble opinion.

Your pain is your pain. And it is valuable and worthy of attention because you are valuable and worthy of attention simply by the sheer fact that you’re a human being.

The last few years, I’ve really had to work on acknowledging my own pain and letting it exist because it is entitled to exist. Doing that work is what has peeled my eyes open to the startling realization that all of my life, I have struggled with anxiety and depression.

The depression in particular seems to have always been there. And I’m not talking about being sad for a day or two. I’m talking about extreme feelings of sadness, irritability, emptiness, hopelessness, and - more prevalent in the last several years - nihilism (that I and my life are meaningless). Although my episodes of depression didn’t last as long when I was younger as they do now, I realize now that the amplitude of the depression in me has been gradually snowballing all of my life. A big reason it was snowballing, is that I never acknowledged it.

I’ve noticed that since my mom died suddenly on May 25, 2012, my frequency and severity of depression has gotten worse. Like, duh. There’s a lot of unprocessed grief there too, which doesn’t help. In the last eight or so years, my depression has looked like this:

• Total inability to get off the couch for days on end except to go to the bathroom, let Winnie outside, and get water or food.

• Loss of interest in activities I used to love, like hiking or running or seeing friends.

• Hiding out in my house and not wanting to go out.

• Significantly decreased ability to concentrate.

• Extreme exhaustion to the point where I feel like a deflated balloon.

• Very dark, hopeless thoughts about why I’m even here, why would I want to continue to be here, and what’s the point. In other words, extreme nihilism. I’m not just talking about an existential crisis. My nihilism shows up in a deeply profound and, in my mind, totally rational way. Like, “I can’t seem to do any good here on Earth. Nothing I do will have any lasting impact on the world. Everything eventually dissipates. So, it won’t matter if I’m here or not. People will get over it and move on. So why don’t I just return back to Spirit where I know I can do more good from that level.”

Yeah . . . I go that dark. Now, that nihilistic tendency I have is something that understandably rattles a lot of people. So, I want to be very clear: I am not, nor have I been, at the point of actually wanting to take my own life. There will be some people who have those same kind of hopeless thoughts and will be entertaining thoughts of taking their own life. ** If that is you or someone you know, please call or text 988 immediately for free and confidential support. And, if you are a military member in need of additional support, please text the Veterans Administration at #838255. (I would like to thank one of my readers for providing information about the VA text number).

When I’m in one of these depressive periods, shit goes dark . . . and it tends to stay dark for a while. In fact, the last six weeks or so, have been one of those very dark periods. And it didn’t take much to thrust me into that darkness. Some unexpected and dire financial issues, business issues, health issues with Winnie (she’s totally fine now), grief, loneliness . . . just some perfect storm of shit going wrong all at once, left me feeling totally disoriented, hopeless, and deep in a black hole.

But unless you were one of two or three people in whom I eventually confided, you wouldn’t have known it.

That’s the tricky thing about mental health issues: the people who experience them become experts at hiding them.

Mental health issues are a sneaky bitch.

One of the many reasons that people can become an expert at hiding their mental health issues is the associated stigma. We get really good at hiding our emotions, stuffing them down, and, consequently, letting them snowball. So, in the hope of trying to take the wind out of some of that stigma, I wanted to share what I had been experiencing lately.

I wanted people to know that just because someone may not look or act like they are struggling with mental health issues, doesn’t mean they aren’t. And just because someone looks like they’re struggling, doesn’t mean there’s something “wrong with them” or that they are “weak” or any crap like that.

Although mental health issues can feel all-consuming for the person experiencing them, they are not the entirety of who that person is or how they are. Someone may be able to “slap on a happy face” to go see a friend, and then come home and sit and cry on the couch for hours. That person is neither happy nor sad . . . they just are. They are a human being who is experiencing depression or anxiety or whatever it may be. They are a human being who is experiencing happiness and joy.

Human beings are not solely their depression or anxiety, anymore than they are solely their happiness or joy. That’s not to downplay or dismiss either of the experiences; rather, it’s to make the point that these are all experiences. And yes, some experiences that are influenced by various societal, physiological, neurological, etc. factors. But they are experiences nonetheless. The minute we start saying that someone “is depressed” or “is anxious” or “is bi-polar” or whatever it might be, we identify the person as that. We’ve labeled them. Like there’s nothing else about them, only that thing or condition.

And maybe that’s the big takeaway from my message this week: I am not my depression. You are not your depression . . . or anxiety . . . or post-traumatic stress . . . or bi-polarism . . . whatever it might be.

You also are not your positivity. You are not your happiness or joy.

All of these are experiences that we have as human beings. Albeit, some experiences are more intense and last longer than others. Some experiences seem like they will last forever or have no end in sight. Some experiences seem to want to break us down and bring us to our knees. Some experiences have us crying in our dark closet so that the dog won’t get upset by how upset you are. Some experiences keep us on the couch for days and hours at a time watching This Is Us (how did I never watch that show when it first came out?). Some experiences make us cry at the slightest little thing - like not being able to find something or having the internet go out.

And some experiences, especially when they last for two or more weeks, start to interfere with your life and your livelihood.

The dark, depressive experience that I’ve had for the last six weeks did just that . . . and it’s not something I’d wish on anyone. I know though, that it’s something that many others have experienced and are experiencing right now. If that is you . . . please know that I am with you.

I also want you to know - and maybe even give you the most gentle little nudge of love - that it is vital to get support. Trust me when I say that I know how hard this is.

Getting help or support is not my strong suit. In fact, as a self-sufficient, latch-key GenX’er, I’d often rather get a front wedgie than ask for help or support. This is just another by-product of our oppressive white patriarchal society that has made us drink the toxic Kool-Aid of “strong people don’t ask for help.”

But, because things were getting so dark this time around, I ended up getting the help and support I needed. And honestly, I may have waited a bit too long before I did. And also honestly, I only ended up getting support because I’d gotten to the point where my hopelessness was seeping out of my pores. It became obvious to a couple of folks. Maybe that was my subconscious asking for support. Whatever it was, those people kindly and graciously reached out their hand to me.

And man was it hard to receive that support. Receiving that support made me feel even worse for a while because I beat myself up over how “I should have been able to fix this on my own.” “I shouldn’t need to rely on others’ goodwill and kindness.” “I’m the one who helps everyone else . . . not the one who gets help.”

Once again, thanks white patriarchy for filling my head with such nonsense.

So, if it’s hard for you to ask for support and then actually receive that support - please know that you’re also not alone. It makes total sense to feel that way given the culture in which we live. The invitation here is not to double down on how bad you’re feeling by beating yourself up for not being able to ask for or receive support. The invitation is actually threefold.

First, if you feel like you’re really struggling - whether it’s with depression, anxiety, or something else - please know that there’s nothing wrong with you. I get that it can feel that way. But please know that this is how our culture has conditioned us - to feel “wrong.” I invite you to try to see that you are experiencing something very challenging. You are so many other things that aren’t your depression, anxiety, or other mental health issue. You are a complex human being who has a lot of experiences, often that feel like they can change from minute to minute. I invite you to not identify with or define yourself by your mental health issues . . . or any other experience for that matter.

Second, acknowledging that you are experiencing a mental health issue is, of course, critical. And we can only acknowledge it if we feel like it’s okay to do so . . . like we won’t be stigmatized, shunned, or looked down upon just because of what we’re experiencing. So, I invite you to try to find someone you can trust and in whom you can confide about what you’re experiencing, even if that’s your local crisis support line. Also, the national 988 hotline isn’t just for those who are thinking of taking their own life. It’s a crisis support line and it can help direct you to other resources. I actually called our local Colorado crisis support line and spoke with a very nice woman for about 20 minutes who normalized what I was experiencing. She made me feel seen and heard. Sometimes that’s all it can take to then allow you to feel like it’s okay to get some support.

And finally, please find support. I know that sounds cliche. But please don’t wait until what you are experiencing has snowballed into an avalanche. Please know that you are not less of a person if you seek support, nor are you less of a person if you find it too difficult to seek support. My encouragement to seek support is so that you remember this: you are a human being who is a part of a gigantic world of human beings. You are not meant to go through this alone. You are meant to have support and help. I know it can feel so much better to just want to shut out the world and stay in the dark by yourself. And I also know that trying to wade through your mental health experience all by yourself, just makes it a hundred times harder.

I hope that I’ve met my intended goals this week: to put a face on one of the many ways that mental health struggles can manifest and to normalize mental health struggles so that if you’re someone who can relate, you can know that you’re not alone.

If you or someone you know has struggled or is struggling with mental health issues, I invite you to put a 💜below . . . let’s fill this post with a lot of 💜 in solidarity.