I can’t for the life of me figure out why I am still bothered when people question someone’s mental health. You’d think I’d be over it. The fact people don't understand or cannot see the illness does not mean that the illness doesn’t exist. I get it, mental illness cases have skyrocketed so for those who have never experienced living with a mental illness it might look as if a lot of fakes came out of the woodwork. Unless of course you consider the predisposition of a person to having a mental illness, the pandemic which altered the entire world (daily reports of death tolls, recordings of the murdering black men- not that murdering of black men hasn’t been happening but the repeated visuals was traumatic, extra stressors such as losing loved ones, losing a job, or food and financial insecurities that were a result of school closures), and previously undiagnosed mental illnesses have all played a role in the increase in the recent number of reported mental illnesses.
Pre-mental breakdown and life threatening depression I was what you would consider a Type A personality, nerdy, yet fun girl. I struggled with depression on some level for most of my life, but it wasn’t until I experienced a trauma that my depression became debilitating. Even then I did what I could to hide it. I hid my struggle because I didn’t want the questions and comments from people who had no idea about the inner battle that I fought every single day. Yet everyone had something to say. “I didn’t have a reason to be depressed.” Who needs a reason when you have a chemical imbalance? “I needed to pray and have faith for my healing.” This one left scars so deep because I felt like my personal relationship with God was being judged. My favorite was, “Black women don’t have time for depression.” Welp, my mind made time.
Those comments came from people who know and love me but there were a couple made by acquaintances that bothered me too. I’ll just share my favorite one, “You don’t look depressed.” I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be carrying a sign around, hold my head down and put on a sad face, or burst into tears every 15-20 mins. Maybe I should’ve shown up as my funky, no sleep, crying self more often, but that probably wouldn't have gone over too well.
Honestly, I think trying to fix myself, or appear normal, is what led to my suicide attempt. I spent a lot of time proving to others that I was ok. I wanted to stay busy so that no one would call me lazy. I wanted to continue to work and participate in activities so that no one would call me a flake or a bad mom. In trying to make sure that other people were ok with my depression I lost a lot of energy; energy that I needed to fight for my life. Because I chose to put on a brave face and smile through it all my brain began to betray me because quite frankly I had betrayed my brain.
This post is for everyone who is pretending to be something that you are not. Who you are and how you feel is enough. You don’t have to prove that you’re this or that for anyone. When I realized that I was worth it my fight to live in my healing with a Major Depressive Disorder went to a new level. I hope that you take off your mask and know that you are worth it too! Bump the naysayers. And that’s on PERIOD as the kids say. LOL
Cartoon Credit: The NewYorker