When you introduce yourself to someone, what do you say? If you're like most people, it's probably something like, "Hi, I'm ____, it's nice to meet you." They probably respond with their name, and the conversation moves on. Well here, I have an ice breaker for you... "Hi, I'm Rachel, and I have bipolar disorder, severe anxiety, and OCD." Could you imagine if we all introduced ourselves by including the demons we struggle with? When you meet me you probably have no idea that in the time it took you to introduce yourself, I've already envisioned at least 10 worst case scenarios. My anxiety is at an all time high because I'm not in the safe surroundings of my house. My mind keeps telling me my hands are dirty and I need to go and wash them. But of course, I can't just simply say, 'excuse me for a minute, I need to go wash my hands'. It seems harmless enough to say it, but what if in the span of 30 minutes, I said it 10 times? 20?
The problem with mental illness is people are suffering silently. There's almost no visible symptoms. If you looked closely enough at me, you'd notice the skin around my nails is picked raw. But other than that, I look relatively normal. I'm 5'9", about 200 pounds. I wear normal clothing, and I look presentable. You would never know that I've wanted to die for half of my life. That during my teenage years I slept 18-20 hours out of the day. Today, I'm a mother. You will always spot me caring for a tiny tot. Playing, and laughing. You wouldn't know that behind that laughter, I'm thinking of the worst things that could happen at any given moment. Maybe to another parent I look a little like a helicopter parent. It's because in a way, I am. I don't live in the world of "it won't happen to us", I live in the world of it will probably happen to us. When my daughter decides she wants to run into the river, or play in the dirt, I'm panicking because I'm thinking about diseases and germs, and life and death situations that only happen to like 1% of people. When we're home and she's playing with her toys, and dumps the bins all over the floor, there's a voice in my head that tells me I need to clean it up immediately. Never mind that she's playing, I don't think rationally, all I see is clutter. Clutter makes me nervous. As I sit here and type this, I noticed crumbs on the carpet. To me, those crumbs will be the downfall of my day if I don't get up and vacuum them right now.
If I willingly went up to other people and told them my struggles, I bet they'd wonder about my child's welfare. But the truth is, being a mother is the only thing that keeps me relatively sane. It gives me the chance to put my entire life into something other than the storm inside my head. It gives me a reason to get up out of bed every single day. My daughter relies on me getting out of bed, and I cannot fail her. There used to be a time where I'd lay in bed for days at a time. I didn't care about eating, hygiene, or anything else. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. And no one relied on me, so I didn't move. But now, even on the days I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep, I know that I can't. Being a mother hasn't cured me of the chaos, but it's given me the strength to fight back. I still suffer throughout the day. Anxiety isn't rational, and I can't just turn it off. In the span of an entire day, I've probably thought about every horrible scenario you can think of at least once. I don't sleep, because I'm too nervous. Would you know any of this just by looking at me?
No.
I'm willing to bet you wouldn't go up to somebody with cancer and say, "just get over it". You would be considered an awful human being. They'd probably write news articles about you. So why do we do that with mental illness? It's just as deadly. In ages 15-24, suicide is the third leading cause of death. For 25-35, it is the second leading cause of death. 30,000 Americans commit suicide each year. On average, one person commits suicide every 16.2 minutes. These are real numbers. So, again, why isn't this taken seriously? There is such a disgusting stigma behind the reality of mental illness. It's talked about as if we're just a bunch of "crazy" people. Or it's talked about like everyone with a mental illness is a psychopath. If you are mentally ill, you are shunned. If you Google depression, and looked at images, I'm sure you'd see thousands of pictures of people crying, or with their heads down. That is not the reality. Yes, when you're depressed, you are sad. But I could go back to the days I wanted to kill myself, and find pictures of me smiling with friends. Why? Because I was ashamed of what people would say if they knew.
Now, at 24 years old, I am a mother, I am happy, and I am still living with my mental illness. But I'm not silent. Because I want people to know that there is hope. If I can give one person the strength they need to believe in a better day, than I've done something right. By many standards, I'm a failure. I still live at home. I don't work. But what would you say if I told you 3 weeks before I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to die? It wasn't that long ago I was laying in my bed, telling myself that dying was my best option. But now, almost 3 years later, I've never been happier. I still suffer from anxiety/OCD daily, but I cherish my life. With medication, therapy, and my daughter, I am able to live with the storm in my mind. The constant chaos that is my thoughts. I never thought there would be a day that I would say I am genuinely happy. I always thought I was better off just dead. Oh what a fool I was.
Even when the clouds are grey, even when there's no hope left in your heart, and your soul is dying, HOLD ON. Believe in a better day. Believe that you are wonderful. Believe that the world is a better place because you are in it. Find strength in the smallest things. Drown yourself in something that makes you happy. (For me, it's books. There's nothing like wandering through someone elses life so you can forget yours for awhile!) I promise that there is a light at the end of that bleak, mind-numbing tunnel. I can't tell you when you'll reach it, but I can promise that you will. I am living, breathing proof of that. I am living proof that mental illness is real, but it doesn't mean you're crazy. You can function, live, laugh, and love.
End the stigma. It's time to shine some light onto the darkest of topics. It's time to let everyone suffering know that they are normal. That they can fight their battles. That they can conquer anything.
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