[EXCERPT FROM ESSAY: TODAY I ASKED MYSELF MY STORY][I AM A WRITER, NOT A DOCTOR. CLICK TO READ MEDICAL DISCLAIMER]
Talking about mental health is always a vulnerable conversation to have. I don’t open up frequently about my struggles with my mental health for fear that any talk of “depression,” “suicide,” or “shame” is grounds for others to label me as unstable—a descriptor no woman needs added to the long list of stereotypes our culture has already awarded us.
The truth is, I don’t feel unstable at all, at least not by society’s standards. Having dealt with depression for a good part of two decades now and shame for the latter, I feel well versed with my highs, lows, and the one-thousand levels in between. It’s granted me the ability to take an accurate reading from all the gauges on my mental health “dashboard,” if you will. If my anxiety meter is reading high, I know better than to grab for that beer (most of the time). If an alarm goes off because something has triggered my unworthiness, I know it’s time to return to my center and acknowledge my worth. If my mood barometer begins to undulate, my apathy levels start to rise, and my navigation starts steering me away from my friends and family, I know depression is creeping back in. And when my anger spikes, my body temperature elevates, and I lash out or withdraw for no reason, I know shame is lurking somewhere nearby.
I believe knowing myself to this degree makes me more “stable” than half the people out there (you can trust me on that estimate—I was a bartender…I’ve done the legwork.) Because “stability” doesn’t imply “mastery” and doesn’t mean that I always feel “normal” or that my mental health never falters. It means, when it does, I am resilient. I have consecrated my mental health to the utmost ranks of my priority list because my self-work is never done. In fact, supervising my mental health has become an ongoing, daily evaluation. I assiduously evaluate my thoughts, my behaviors, and my moods. I attempt to understand my mistakes versus internalizing my failures. I acknowledge all the time that I can do better. But I don’t keep my missteps or dark thoughts in a file in the back somewhere. I’m able to reconcile the lessons, reinforce my worth, and reasonably strive to be better. In that regard, being mentally “healthy” for me has much less to do with stamina and fortitude and much more to do with understanding and adapting to such a dynamic process.
These days, good mental health means allowing my worth to act as the gatekeeper to staunchly and devotedly oversee what thoughts and whose opinions I allow myself to internalize. It is the identity, the firm voice that drowns out all the others and says, “If it negates my worth, it has no place inside.”
And if/when maintaining our mental health falls outside of our capacity to accomplish (as is inevitable sometimes), we must not be ashamed to ask for help. And we must listen to that voice, deep down, that reminds us we are worthy of it.
Until tomorrow,
Tess
[CLICK TO READ MORE FROM THE ESSAY: TODAY I ASKED MYSELF MY STORY]
[CLICK TO READ POST: TODAY I ASKED MYSELF ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH]