Thahabu

It seems like certain behaviors hold a monopoly over mental illness. If you don’t act in the way that mainstream media portrays anxiety, depression, or any other mental illness you’re not suffering, and therefore aren’t worthy enough to receive the support you so desperately need. In my experience, mental illness is supposed to be loud and obvious, not silent and deceiving. This creates a complex dilemma for someone like me. I’ve learned to cry in quiet corners, and hide anxiety behind delayed text backs and minimal human contact. Some days, it takes me an extra 30 minutes to get out of bed, because my depression is telling me there’s no point in doing so. Other days, my anxiety tells me that if I get up I’m going ruin some major aspect of my life anyway, so it’s safer to stay under the covers. When these two come together it feels like a brick trying to break its way through my chest.

I can recall a time when my grievances were easier to read from an outsider’s perspective. I was a sophomore in high school, who had become rightfully upset after my gym teacher bullied me for having scoliosis. I was sent to the dean’s office, where he accused me of faking my anxiety attack and lying about my physical ailment all together, despite having visible surgical scars. I had endured similar conversations before, but it was in that moment where I learned my feelings could be interpreted as a nuisance or even a threat to those who were supposed to be helping me. If I wanted to be taken seriously, or have my feelings deemed valid, I’d have to fight like hell for it. Sixteen-year-old me didn’t have the energy for that, and college me not only doesn’t have the time but is keenly aware that she shouldn’t have to fight for same basic human decency that is so easily given to other girls; girls who are viewed as more fragile, and more deserving of that extra care. Somehow their mental illness is more legitimate than yours because it can be heard from miles. Yours is quieter and unsure of itself, not sure if what you’re going through is an actual affront to your health or if the problem is too much of an anomaly to garner attention, or worse, it could make people think you’re you’ve fabricated the whole thing. That is why I tend to keep my feelings to myself now. I don’t want to go through the humiliation of justifying my emotions to someone again.

However, I still don’t believe my silence makes my mental illness any less severe than someone who’s more vocal about theirs. The way my depression manifests itself is the why I still check on my friends, even when it seems like they’re fine. Mental illness doesn’t look the same for everyone. You can’t always gauge how bad someone’s situation is by how angry or happy they “look.”

Anxiety isn’t always someone shaking or not being able to breathe, and depression isn’t restricted to someone sobbing in the middle of the street. These things can look detached, it can be taking an hour or four to reply back to a text. I know I have trouble with asking for help, and that makes it difficult for the people who care about me to give me the support I need. I have to work on that and believe me, I’m trying. ♦