I knew my confession was motivated by the hope that I could change the trajectory of my life. I wanted to find a way out of depression more than I wanted to keep hiding my compulsive self-injury. I wanted an end to secrets, an end to shame. I wanted my classmates to look me in the eye and accept me for who I was, not for girl who I pretended to be.
Stigma exists. Two out of three people who are affected by mental illness don’t seek help or treatment. The day I received treatment was the day I took my first step towards recovery. Although some days I tend to take a step back, I know I will wake up the next morning and take two steps forward.
As I explore the functionality of loneliness in my life, I also look to accountability. Do I try to put myself out there, and do I do so without expectation of return? Yes, and yes. So why do I feel alone? Is it because others can’t handle the mentally ill guy, or is it self-stigma informing my conclusions?
For example, while I was feeling extreme joy for my family’s experience that day and words like depression could not have been further from my mind, it did not change the fact that it was still a part of me. Sometimes it’s present, sometimes it’s dormant, but it’s always there and I am learning to take ownership over it equal to all the other parts of me.
We can get through the next few months staying healthy. Please indulge in reading the BC2M website if you do feel alone. Post your feelings. It helps to reach out. I no longer isolate from depression. My symptoms are managed well. Writing to all of you helps me enormously so I say THANK YOU and we’ll get through this holiday season together, alive.
Fourteen years ago when I was 24 years old, I was diagnosed with bipolar I, and it saved my life. Slowly, the pieces came together and the many years before that came into focus. There was a reason for all of the madness and the pain and confusion. And there was finally a reason to want to get better. Finding out I had bipolar was the first time I felt like I wasn’t crazy, if that makes any sense.
Sometimes that’s what it’s all about, this life where I work hard to overcome my mental health challenges and blend into the fabric of life. This is where I need to remember that I can advocate for myself as well as others, that we all can, and that the future of how we’re perceived rests solely on our will to be understood and accepted on equal ground.
Change is often an agonizingly slow process, but from this side I can say it truly is worth it. While I continued to struggle with self-harm for three more years eventually I developed a support system that helped me to achieve my goal of sobriety—11 years now.
To this day I live with reoccurring episodes of depression, but even that has changed. I am quicker to recognize the downward spiral, quicker to seek the help I need. I have learned to say on the good days and on the bad, “I am lucky to be alive. “