#timetotalk
Sub-Editor's note: Originally published 7th February 2014 @ 19:32.
I have just discovered that today (February 6th) is apparently #timetotalk day, which is a bit of a coincidence as I was just thinking this morning about how I don’t ever talk about mental health any more. I realised that since my own mental health has improved, I’ve stopped talking about the issue as a whole. I’ve become complacent in my removal from the cause, however temporary that may turn out to be, and it made me sad to think it, because we shouldn’t only care about the things that directly affect us.
We shouldn’t only want to change and improve things that have an impact on our lives, because there will always be someone who is affected by something. We should strive to raise awareness for the things that affect people, not ourselves, because that’s the foundation of society. Empathy and experience do not need to go hand in hand, although they often do. It’s perhaps true that my own empathy for the cause has been heightened or shaped by my own experiences with it – I may be in recovery, but I will probably never be recovered – but the support that got me through the worst of my own illness did not always come from my fellow sufferers. It came from friends, family and acquaintances who wanted to help; not because they knew how bad I was feeling, but because they simply knew that I WAS feeling bad, and these are the people I owe everything to.
Recovery is always in the present tense. Every time I have to order food in a cafe, every time I have to use public transport by myself (every day since I started work) and every time I meet someone new, I am terrified. That’s the worst thing about anxiety. The exposure theory doesn’t always work. Doing something every day doesn’t necessarily make the emotional response any duller. I will probably always feel my pulse race when I’m at the airport check-in desk, and I’ll probably never stop stammering when I ask the barista for a large tea. In this sense, I am not recovered. I may never be. However, I am recovering. I am always recovering, because every day, although it makes my palms sweat, I get the bus to work. I order my own meals when I’m out with friends, even though my voice shakes. I talk to new people despite the slamming of my own heartbeat against my ribs. I am brave in my anxiety, and the feeling of achievement that comes with the bus ticket, the cup of tea, the new friends – that never fades. Every time I prevail – and I do – I am recovering, and I am proud. As I said before; exposure theory doesn’t always work.
And yet it does, in a way, because in my own successes, I have become complacent. I have become innoculated to the sharpness of the barbs of my own chemical imbalances, and in so doing, I have become immunised to the suffering of my fellow people who share my struggles with mental illness. With each of my achievements, I forget that someone else is drowning in it. I forget that mental health is a vacuum that turns the lives of one in four of us into an enveloping darkness, a black hole where there is often no way out, and this is where the problem lies. If we forget to talk about it – if we forget to try and understand – then where does that leave us?
Causes are won by both allies and the affected, and I hope that, if I ever fall back completely into the darkness of that old 25% statistic, I will be able to rely on the support and awareness of those who, like me today, are not necessarily constantly, prevailingly or even directly affected by the issue of mental health, but are affected and driven by the human imperative to understand and assist.
Sub-Ed’s note to readers: If you need any help with or advice on anxiety or other problems, please contact Meic online, via their helpline on 080880 23456, or text 84001. All their advice is free and confidential.
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Photo Credits: time-to-change.org.uk/talkday and ashley rose via Compfight cc
