I have a friend who recently shared with me that his anxiety presents in less than traditional ways. He actually described it as “a different manifestation than you might see on a Lexapro commercial.” He explained to me that it is a full body, cellular level experience that looks more like holistic dread than a throat-tightening moment. Another friend shared that she doesn’t think she’s depressed because she has nothing to be depressed over.
I am not sharing this to reveal my dearests most profound secrets. Far from it. I’m sharing so that you can understand that as a society we’ve been brainwashed into accepting a singular version or specific versions of what mental health struggles look like and how they should be treated.
I was talking to my sister this morning and whilst giggling, she told me that she feels like maybe she has some sort of seasonal affective disorder. “I would just rather it be like 30 degrees and sunny in the winter than 50 degrees and gloomy, you know?” She paused for a moment and then said, “I mean, I’m not like properly depressed or anything, but it definitely kills my mood a little.”
Again, the need to compare to a paradigm, or a widely accepted narrative, is ever present. This is what life looks like when you have a particular affliction and if your experience doesn’t match, you are probably fine. I mean, you may be crazy but also, you are fine.
What the actual fuck? I mean, how on earth are we supposed to get to a place where we remove the stigma surrounding mental illness and mental health struggles when we don’t even allow folks to properly explore if they may be suffering? Why is mental health a one-size-fits-all experience?
And if someone cannot be diagnosed with a specific ailment based on a bunch of shit in a textbook, does that mean they don’t deserve attention and treatment and kindness and compassion? Why? Why do we do this to ourselves?
I will say, as a secondary opener, that I am as guilty as the next. Just the other day, I was talking to a friend and I said I think I might be a little depressed and then quickly, I corrected myself and advised that I was probably just tired. This auto-correct emerges in these revelatory moments as a result of being corrected by others time and again. I’ve had people tell me that my life is awesome, what do I have to be sad about or tell me that I’m probably just tired. Oh yeah? Cool. What else is going on in my mind and heart and body that you want to educate me on? Light me up with your stupendous knowledge.
But it’s so easy to buy into because we don’t want there to be something “wrong” with us. We don’t want to be something that needs fixing. Medication, therapy, a shoulder to cry on, a time out, some time off. We just want to be “normal” and being “normal” means that you are not depressed or anxious or struggling. It means that you are just exhausted and have unreasonable standards for life and the people you surround yourself with.
Okay, I guess it’s time for my standard disclaimer. Of course, there are times when we have run ourselves into the ground. There are times when we have just done too much and had too little sleep and maybe too much work and also sometimes, too much fun. There are times when we’ve been through a trauma that we haven’t fully processed, or even something wonderful that we can’t yet wrap our arms around. There are a variety of reasons for a temporary misstep that might feel like something bigger and more everlasting. Yes. And we need to learn ourselves enough to differentiate between the two, but that takes time and exploration. Also, it takes a heaping serving of honesty.
That’s right. You have to be honest about how you really feel, separate from what the world shares with you or what you decide is acceptable based on societal standards. Once you’ve done that analysis and come up with an answer, or sometimes, no good answer, that means you can give yourself grace. Figure out a way to fully acknowledge your struggle and start to ask yourself what you might need to dig out.
This is not an easy process on any level, but it’s a necessary one.
The other part of this is that being honest about your struggles doesn’t need to brand you as someone to be pitied or avoided. You can make your shit something that’s just part of you at a given moment. Being sad is the same as being over the moon happy. It’s a state of being. Right? Neither requires judgment. The sad bit requires some energy and attention and maybe an intervention, but no judgment. Not really. There shouldn’t be.
I think we’ve spent a lot of time making rules and definitions for everything. Why? I think we desire to organize things in that way because it feels neater and cleaner. There is something about the mess of the undefinable that feels absolutely horrifying. If we can’t slap a label on it and create a laundry list of descriptions, then it’s better if it doesn’t exist altogether.
Think about that for a moment. Consider the idea that we would rather erase parts of the human experience than acknowledge that things can sometimes be a little gray, or a lot murky and really fuzzy and not always understandable.
Here’s the really insane part- the gray is where we have an opportunity to connect with each other. Those fuzzy bits is where we find common ground, the ties that bind. It’s not about the shit you can Google or find on a pharma company’s website. On no. It’s the weird stuff where you turn to someone you trust more than anything and say “do you ever…?” And they respond by telling you that they do. Or they don’t but know someone that does. Or they don’t but can understand why you do.
What’s my point? Well, maybe I am just tired. Or maybe I’m going through a hard time. I’m not sure. But it would be really fucking helpful if I was allowed to sort that out without someone denying me the opportunity. That’s all. So maybe cut yourself a break. Or a friend. Don’t tell them what they are feeling or what’s “wrong” with them. Just let them talk. And maybe give them a hug. And I dunno- ask them what they need.
Just a thought.
Best time ever to do it- tis the gray season.
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