A Note on Mental Illness

I’d say by default I’m a generally happy, whimsical, lighthearted person. And for the most part, I’d say that’s pretty accurate. I enjoy life and all that it has to offer. But despite this, I battle mental illness. And when it unfailingly returns to sweep through all that is in its path, I am often met with the following. Why am I so sad? Why am I so dark? Why can’t I just smile? These are the questions I am so frequently asked but don’t have an answer to. To tell you the truth, I have no idea why. I wish I did, then maybe I’d at least have a small inkling of an idea on how to go about correcting it. The best way I can put it is this, today is not different than yesterday, but today I do not feel okay.

But what I want to say is this, that mental illness fucking sucks and there is no glory in it. If I could choose, I’d choose a slightly cheerier disposition. But it doesn’t work that way. In an era where we’re finally learning to talk about mental illness and where we’re telling each other it’s okay to not be okay, it’s hard not to notice the relatively new phenomenon of “romanticized mental illness”. It’s not clear where this has sprung from, but somewhere along the way the line has been crossed from destigmatization to creating a sub culture that very nearly portrays mental illness as desirable and trendy. And it is NOT. The cold reality of it is this. Sometimes it comes on so rapidly, it barely provides any warning. From the outside it looks like nothing, but from the inside it couldn’t be more obvious. A tightening of the chest, one that makes it laborious to breathe, chaotic little thoughts fluttering about blurring all logical linear thought, a panic rising in your throat, a cry to flee so shrill in your ear you can’t hear anything else. A darkness so all-encompassing, it’s as if nothing else has ever existed. One moment you’re okay, the next you’re not. Mental illness doesn’t care what you’ve got going on, it doesn’t show up when it’s convenient just to provide a chic haunting allure you can throw on along with a new Gucci blazer. It can be as insidious and invisible as the wind, and it can have the power to shake down even the mightiest of trees. This new mindset does little to provide solace to the soul that is tearing apart on the inside, desperately latching on to the fragmented pieces trying to stay whole. Instead, the conversation should be why do we feel this way? Because we’re taught to be ashamed of appearing less than we are? That it is a sign of weakness to not be unfailingly optimistic and an unshakable pillar of self confidence? It is not a sign of weakness to fall, it is HUMAN. The true strength is in getting up anyway. So let the pieces shatter with all the force you can muster. Let them lay there on the floor as you take the time you need to reflect upon why you are here in this moment. Admire each piece for the part of you it is. And when you’re ready, put them back together, you might just create something more beautiful than before.