Now, I have a lot of those things and I’ve realized that happiness isn’t conditional, it doesn’t depend on the external. It’s kind of a horrifying realization for me.
Recently, someone on Facebook posted a video where a man was talking about how people who “claim” to be depressed shouldn’t let their depression define them. Instead, he said, we should pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and understand that our mental health is all about choosing the right, positive thoughts. That frustrates me, because that’s something that I try to do every day, and it helps, but it isn’t as simple as that. I’ve had to accept, am learning to accept, the idea that my illness is just that ? an illness that I am going to have to deal with for the rest of my life, if I don’t succumb to suicide.
I have my good days and my bad days, but ultimately I’m probably always going to feel suicidal, feel hopeless, feel tired of being alive. I have to work extra hard to “function.” That’s my life.
There’s a lot of joy in my life, a lot of great people and great things, but depression and anxiety is a part of it and I want to get to a place where I’m well, yes, but where I also don’t beat myself up for being unable to “think good thoughts.” Where are you all with this, with “accepting” your illness for what it is?
MB: My depression is very on and off. Currently I am on medication for managing my depression and it was a necessary decision for my survival. To say that I expect to be on meds the rest of my life ? no I don’t. I also don’t really feel like this is going to be a “forever” thing for me honestly. Maybe I am just being hopeful. But I haven’t fully accepted that I am always going to have this struggle. Right now the meds are helping me function at a higher capacity, and I am praying that when I choose to wean off the meds I will have the right skills in my self-care toolbox to help me through my rough patches. But I am also aware that if I need to put myself back through therapy, and on meds, then I will always do what is necessary for my wellbeing.
So though I have fully accepted what my struggles are, I have not accepted it as a lifelong condition. However, I am very much aware that I will spend the rest of my life prone to depression. But is there a difference? Is this denial? What do the rest of you think as Zeba mentioned about “accepting” your illness?
AB: My first time in the mental hospital I was 13 years old so I have been dealing with bipolar disorder (although my diagnosis changed for a bit) for a long time. I’m in my late 20s now and I am definitely at a point where I accept my illness as a part of who I am. Although I do still slip into beating myself up for not being positive enough, for mistakes I’ve made, for when my depression consumes me. It’s not perfect and I have a lot of work to do, but I am doing much better than I was doing even just a year before. It’s a day-to-day struggle to keep the balance and treat myself with kindness.
This roundtable has been really interesting since it has led me to reconsider my stance on not talking and writing much about living with mental illness as a black woman online anymore.
Maybe taking up space and providing an example of what it means to survive with this holds enough value to outweigh the risks. Maybe being vulnerable and open in our writing gives us a chance to transcend the (at times self-imposed) isolation that my mind tricks us into doing.