For most of my life, I have observed hundreds of people who have existed with some level of mental health issue. I use the word “issue” carefully here, as I do not wish to offend or cause harm to anyone I know, who is battling some form of mental stress in their lives. However, for the lack of a better word, “issue” works as a way to provide a broad term for much of what I have witnessed, even when I didn’t know exactly what it was.
As a kid, I grew up with other kids who battled demons of many colors (to use a different set of words to describe mental battles). I am positive that some were diagnosed and some were not, but it did not limit the severity of any of them, for everyone that struggles is facing something very real, whether the outside world sees it or not. All throughout my childhood, teen years, and early adult life, I believed myself to be fortunate to not have any of these so-called “issues”, imagining myself impervious. To be quite fair, I was rather smug about my level of invincibility. As you might imagine, this is quite the set-up to the story.
But before we get too far, please recognize that I have been right there to sympathize with many friends, and even strangers, regarding things like anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, addiction, overwhelming grief, and other “issues” that I thought I was immune to. Perhaps I was naive. Or perhaps I believed I was made differently in order to be the support that others needed. Regardless, I have moved through life having a rather solid grip on my mental health, trusting that I was able to rise above any sort of malady that might come my way. And believe me, it sounds funny to write that just as much as you might have found it funny to read it.
A few years ago, circumstances began to change in such a way that certain feelings were exposed about my past, while laying bare weaknesses in my misperceived armor. If it were one singular thing, I suppose it could be managed, but this has been many things and I now find myself seeking help that I have never sought before.
Here’s what this looks like for me, just as a way to share. I recognize there is much in this life that is outside our base control. I have always been good at letting the vast majority of these uncontrollables drift by without affecting me, knowing that I can control my reactions. By letting most stuff just be, and by remaining indifferent, I have avoided any emotion that is often attached to reaction. While this has been good, it has also been bad. For many years, I have been viewed as rather heartless, even in the face of the death of a loved one, for which I simply do not mourn. I have always been the stoic type, and not because it’s some manly way to be, or I think it’s cool, but just because it’s how I’ve always been. I don’t know why I’m that way, but I am. I have always been that guy.
But I have always been a rational guy too, along with being analytical and thoughtful, especially when it comes to proactive thought. So when I started to get besieged by a litany of things that were beyond my control, they created emotion that I could not come to terms with in my usual indifferent way. I began to find myself troubled. I reached out to a few people, in hopes of being able to just talk, but much of that was to no avail.
I think it’s fair to say that most of us are bar stool therapists, in that we are able to sympathize with a buddy that is going through something in his/her life. We all have the ability to listen, although some are certainly better than others, and we can relate to one another on some plane. Mostly, we do our best to encourage one another because we remember when we went through something similar, so we provide a shoulder, an ear, and maybe a couch, all in an effort to help a friend who is going through a tough time.
But what happens when it’s more than that? If I’m being completely honest, I have attempted to offer advice in the face of great adversity, including that of mental illness. There have been a few times that I felt remorseful for having said anything, recognizing that I am simply unqualified. And this makes me realize that most of us are in that same boat, meaning that reaching out to a friend about serious issues is probably not very wise, and instead sets them up in a very unfair way.
Fortunately, I have a couple of outlets in lieu of a counselor (which I really ought to seek). Running continues to be my greatest way to reset my brain. When I can disappear from humanity for a few hours, I find balance within my thoughts. Another way that helps me is to write. To some degree, the mess in my head becomes less so when I can take some of it out and put it down on paper (or Google Docs). I have also turned to music as a way to relax, as well as reading. Those are lesser ways but they are still effective at times, depending on the moment.
The purpose of writing all of this down is to create some sense of accountability for something I have long avoided, which is to say that I am wrestling with some demons. Frankly, I believe that talking (and writing and running) through these things is very beneficial for me, but I know that not everyone feels the same. And so I am just stating where I am at, in this format, for anyone and everyone to see that there are a lot of ways to grapple with what goes on in the mind. My feelings and issues are minor (at least it feels that way to me) and I am working through them, in stages.
