By definition, I'm "mentally ill". I've got a diagnosis on file, I see a doctor, I am on medication to help regulate me, and I've got a long history of therapy.
I own this fact...it's part of who I am. I try - every day - to not let it define me. My disease, this 'mental illness' isn't who I am. It's just part of what makes me...me. It doesn't make me a monster, and it doesn't make me less than a person.
Unfortunately, mental illness is a taboo. People hesitate to admit that they go to therapy, let alone take medications, if they even bother to seek help at all. I remember being a kid and seeing my first doctor. My mother urged me to not tell anyone I was seeing a behavioral specialist. "People don't need to know something's wrong with you" she said. And those words stuck with me - and still do to this day.
"Something's wrong with me".
I've always known that 'something was wrong with me'. I knew when I would have panic attacks while doing the most routine things. I knew when I struggled making friends. I knew when I would want to spend weeks in bed doing nothing more than crying for no reason at all. I knew during my darkest times, when I clutched fists-full of pain pills, wishing the pain would just go away forever.
Intermittent visits to child psychologists, coupled with people that would tell me 'it's just a phase' and to 'cheer up' ceased my search to fix myself for years. I didn't want people to know I was damaged. I didn't want people to think I was one step away from going over the edge. So I struggled and made excuses for myself and my actions.
It was YEARS before I had the courage to talk about it, and when I did, it was one of the most vulnerable moments in my life.
But it's that silence, that stigma, that a lot of people like me struggle with. The fear that - if people found out - I'd be looked at differently. That I'd lose my job. That I'd lose my friends....or my family....or worse. I'd be locked up for something I have no control over.
People don't understand because we simply don't talk about mental illness in regular conversations. It's always in hushed whispers. "Well...you know she's in therapy...right? Something's wrong with her."
Now, keep in mind, I'm a functioning person. I operate quite fine despite my illness. Depression and anxiety can be easy to treat once you find the right methods that help/work, but that's only if you seek help for it...and that's only if you have the means to do so on top of that AND a supportive network of people you can surround yourself with.
But for every person like me that wants to take control back, there are so many people that simply won't. The fear of "what if people find out" outweighs the fact that they should seek help to get better.
We've been all raised to think that therapy, and meds to help a mental challenges, show weakness, and it's something to be ashamed of.
That's bullshit.
Even insurance companies don't take mental health seriously. Some insurance plans don't even cover it, and if you're lucky enough to have a plan that does offer some sort of co-pay for mental health specialists, it's usually an outrageous amount. For instance - Every time I see my doctor, it's $40 just to walk in the door. That doesn't account for the cost of my meds - which can range from $10 - $50 each...per month...even for generics. So here's some quick math. 3 visits a month (conservative) = $120 a month, $1440 a year. Monthly meds average around $50...so that's another $600 a year. That's $2040 a year, on insurance. That's just for normal maintenance. That doesn't include any emergencies, or possible changes in medical regimens that might yield better results, and help me get that much closer to feeling normal.
But I'm lucky. We're well off enough at the moment that we can afford that, and that insurance offers some sort of coverage. Yes, I could go to a general practitioner and save some money - I've done that in the past. The problem with that is that they're not trained in mental health. I go to a specialist because that's what they've studied. I go to a specialist because they've got a better chance at helping me. I go to a specialist because that's their field of expertise.
But what if I lost my job? What if I couldn't afford to see my therapist? What if I couldn't afford my meds anymore? What would I do?
Do you know how many people in this country are in that situation?
This past weekend, I've been shocked and horrified to see people that I know make these broad and sweeping statements about 'mental illness'. It scares me to no end too, because I make no secret about my struggles, nor should I. As I said before, this is part of me.
Those of us that need a little extra help shouldn't have to hide. We shouldn't be ashamed of who we are, or our struggles. Mental illness should be an open discussion in families that are affected by it. The health of those that you love goes far beyond the physical and SHOULD include the mental.
Why do we continue to ignore that?
<3 You will always have me. <3
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