World Mental Health Day More Important than Ever in Face of Covid-19

2020 has taught everyone, not just those with mental illnesses, that we must take stock of what goes on in our minds. The era of Covid-19 has given a polarized country something to agree on. Whether you were Justin Bieber or just your average Joe, when the lockdown went into effect, you felt the walls caving in on you all the same. Of course, he has more square feet than you and me but we all felt the loss of human connection. For all of my fellow empaths, surely you understand how difficult it is not to hug your mother or friend. Such a simple embrace went a long way, and we took it for granted. 

I am here to tell my story of mental illness to encourage others to feel like they can open up about their struggles, as painful as it can be to rehash hardship. I suffered a depressive episode during the summer before my senior year in high school. I remember telling my mom I felt weird and one day I had run up to my room crying for what seemed like no apparent reason. Depression is really something you have to go through to understand it.

The only way I can express the pain I felt was all-encapsulating and second by second. I couldn’t understand why I was so sad. I had everything I could ask for – a supportive family, a roof over my head and a school to go to. Why was I all of a sudden acting so ungrateful for all I was blessed with? It was easy to blame myself for the chemical imbalance that I, in reality, had no control over.

After all, there was no big event - I hadn’t lost someone close to me, or went through trauma, I just began to have fleeting suicidal thoughts and being awake and alert in any moment was excruciating. Day after day, I called the crisis hotline when I was home alone and fell into the trap of ideating self-harm. Thankfully, I was able to escape the need to physically harm myself. I began to think about how hurt my family would be, were I to end my life. Isolating myself was easy to do – I could finally bask in my self-hatred and sob for hours to my yellow wall. When my aunt asked how I was doing at my cross-country meet, knowing what I was going through, I forced a casual answer and cheerful expression. If I told her the truth, I would have had a major meltdown on the track. The safe spaces of my adjustment counselor and pediatrician’s offices gave me the room I needed to express that something was terribly wrong and I needed help to move on. 

This is not something you can dig out of alone. And if you do, that is stunning work. I cannot overstate just how important every little encouraging comment was. To Mariah Girouard, who went through it herself, picked me up one day when I started to feel this new heavy pressure, and told me it would take a few months to find some medication that helped, but I would get through it. Months felt like years in those first few weeks. I was incredibly lucky to have stumbled on the right combination of medicines the first time, instead of going through trial and error that would have only escalated my condition. A lot of people have to try many different anti-depressants before finding what is right for their chemistry. 

After several months, I started to feel like myself again. With both medication and talk therapy, I began to want to live again, but it took lots of work. Beforehand, I never had to talk my way through a day, I just lived it. But now, I am more deliberate about what is going through my mind. If I sense intrusive thoughts, I tell myself that I am going to have a positive day because I am choosing it. For months my mind was battling between neglecting myself or holding my head high and deciding that I can’t blame anyone else for my unhappiness, that I would be in control from then on. This doesn’t mean that my life is perfect or that things run smoothly because I want it to be, but for the aspects of life I can change and alter - my attitude, the way I treat people, how much I push myself – these are minor adjustments that have made me prosper.

I wasn’t always striving to make the most out of every day. At first, it was a side effect of battling depression – investing in activities and self-talk that would promote my wellbeing. But now, it is a reminder that I have the ability to manifest an ever-present spirit and nothing can get in the way of that. Yes, I take medication. Yes, I go to therapy, and that is okay. It has been an amazing journey discovering my self-worth and finding out more and more about who I really am.

To everyone going through an unforgiving, relentless mental illness: you will get through it, as difficult as it is. To parents of children with mental illness: listen, be gentle and give endless encouragement. To those who are my life savers, I will never forget that you are part of the reason I am alive. 

(I do not own the image attached to this post.)