Depression Talk

Jumoke sent me an article last week, one that I have been hesitant to post about because I’m not really sure what I make of it at all.

The article, found here, tells of a young girl and what she has done to raise awareness with regards to mental health issues. I always applaud people who do what they can to normalize people with mental health issues. Mental health is one of my pet peeves: I detest the misinformation that abounds about some of the problems I have.

Alyse has about six thousand rituals that she adheres to in order to quell the anxiety that she feels each day. Like me, she is open about her issues: I imagine her medications, therapies, and some of her obsessions are not secret from very many people. I don’t know why she chooses to be open about her issues. I know that I choose to be open about mine because I just don’t care to hide it anymore. I’m sick of feeling like there is something wrong with me because there are things that I do and feel that are beyond my control. My attitude about my behaviors is that I have them. I do what I can to keep them under control, but if people don’t like me because of these issues? I’m not likely to lose any sleep.

What bothers me about the article is this line: “She has woken up with a smile on her face every day of her life,” Ms. Benzvy Miller said.

I often speak of the network of people around me who help me when times get tough, especially my family: they see the worst of me because by the time I’ve hit my absolute bottom, I’m not generally capable of leaving the house.

And this is why I’m wary of a girl’s mother proclaiming that she wakes up every day with a smile on her face. When I’m having a really hard time of it, I generally can’t get up at all: I tend to lay in my bed, chain smoking and praying for the next day to come because certainly it has to hold more hope than the one I’m living at that time.

This is the thing about mental health issues though: Every single person suffering from mental illness is so completely unique and different. We all have our own ways of dealing with the behaviors and feelings we have.

So part of me wants to think, what a load. How could you deal with all the crap that comes with OCD/depression/anxiety and get up with a smile on your face?

At the same time, however, waves of guilt wash over me because who am I to say that one way of dealing with mental health or another is better or worse? If I’m deciding what the “real” way of being OCD is, then doesn’t that make me just as bad as the people who hold improper beliefs about me?

This is the crux of the matter, I suppose. And in the end, I suppose that I should just be grateful that there is someone out there doing a hell of a lot more than I am for raising awareness about OCD and other mental illnesses.