So, I wanted to tell the truth. And not the truth in a
confessional, sit me in a box and say three hail Mary’s kind of way, although a
Hail Mary from time to time does help I’ve found, but simply in a let’s talk
about this because it’s important kind of way.
When I was nineteen I suffered from horrendous OCD,
intrusive thoughts inside my head telling me that if I didn’t do or say or think certain
things then those that I loved would die and that it would all be my fault.
Since that first attack, I have suffered on and off from anxiety, depression,
panic attacks and more OCD than you could sink a battle ship with, though I
wouldn’t recommend trying unless you were wearing armbands and a helmet.
It has
affected my family, my life and my relationships. I say I “have suffered from”
not as a victim but as a strong, confident young woman who never understood mental
illness until she had it and suffered.
You wouldn’t know it if you met me as for those of you who
do know me (you unfortunate buggers) will know, I have an abrasively perky
disposition, a positive outlook on life and a love of all things rude
(noises/words/sounds).
I say “have suffered from” because it is suffering, it is
crippling and it is exhausting. I had
seen it in family when I was growing up, but I never truly understood it until it felt like my
own brain was attacking me.
Because that is what mental illness feels like, it feels
like your brain, the thing inside of you which up until now you completely
associated with your sense of identity and self, is on fire and on the attack
and will not rest until you are flattened. It feels like someone has placed a
blanket of lead over your head that no matter how hard you try you cannot
(unlike Taylor Swift) shake it off.
What is so hard about mental illness is that, unlike when
you have broken your leg and you can clearly see all the “broken” bits, when
your brain is broken it is so difficult to distinguish between what is you, your
personality and what is the illness. This is one of the many reasons mental
health is such a taboo subject and people feel uncomfortable talking about it
because they don’t want to be thought of as crazy. What they do need to be
thought of as is ill, unwell and poorly, all the same words that you would use
for a cold or a gripey tummy.
When your mental health isn’t working properly or at its
best, the same as if you broke your leg, it needs fixing and resetting. Many
mental illnesses are caused by chemical imbalances or over-activity in the brain, others from
traumatic experiences and some completely out of the blue.
The hardest thing about mental illness is pretending that
you’re ok, it’s exhausting putting on a smile that doesn’t quite reach your
eyes when all your body and mind is screaming for you to do is lie down, cry
and not get up.
You can’t pull yourself together because at that moment in
time you don’t have the strength or cognitive ability to do so. You try to be
ok and to seem fine because you don’t want anyone to worry, you don’t want to
be a burden to your family and friends.
The kindest thing my best friend said to me when I was ill
was, “You don’t need to pretend in front of me, take it ten seconds at a time”. Because
that is all you can do, get through that first ten seconds and then another and
then another and cling on. Because you will get through it. It is, although it
may not feel like it at the time, temporary. Like all illnesses, it will get
worse, better, worse, better, worse but things will change, it will pass and
you will heal with time and help.
And the best thing you can do is to talk about it, which is
why I am writing this. Because people are scared to talk about it. We tiptoe
around the subject because we don’t know what to say or how to react but the
best thing you can do is SAY THAT, say I don’t know, be ignorant and let
someone tell you how they feel instead of guessing. Say ‘how are you?’ and
actually mean it.
The best thing I did when I was ill was to seek help, taking
active steps immediately made my brain shift from a position of destruction to one
of creation. I went to my GP, I went to a counsellor and finally I received
cognitive behavioural therapy, all three together combined have been a life saver.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely fixed (none of us are) and I know it
is something I will always battle with but when you have an army of troops on
your side you can win. I’m not sure how my doctor, therapist, family and friends would feel
about being called a troop but tough titty I'm afraid that’s what they are.
Mental illness is so so so so common, all of us will
experience it at some point in our lives whether for ourselves or through a
loved one. Ruby Wax, Stephen Fry and Emma Thompson have all suffered and spoken
out about it, they are the tip of the iceberg. What we need to do is get
educated and we need to talk because that is where true happiness and hope
comes from*: talking, communication and connection. Don’t hide and don’t let
someone else hide.
Life is too short, too precious not to talk, not to tell the
truth. So please, do it.
ps. True happiness can also come from a good poo, you know it's true.
