黑料正能量 Note: It鈥檚 not uncommon for those of us with mental health conditions to believe things about ourselves that simply aren鈥檛 true. The following article unpacks 6 common lies its author experienced as a result of his lived experience.
6 Totally Awful Lies That Mental Illness Told Me
By Sam Dylan Finch Ravishly March 11. 2016
For a long time, I believed that my mental illness was my own doing.
Back when I was dealing with a depressive episode, one of my partners told me, 鈥淪am, you have to remember that not everything you think is true.鈥
Simple, but it was a real revelation for me. Sometimes with bipolar disorder, it鈥檚 incredibly hard to distinguish between your own voice and the fears, trauma, and outright lies that run on a loop in the back of your head.
I liken my experiences with mental illness to being in line at a grocery store: I鈥檝e placed everything on the belt and, while the cashier is ringing everything up, some snot-nosed jerk is placing random items on the belt when I’m not looking.
Suddenly, I鈥檝e got bulls**t I didn鈥檛 even want and I鈥檓 the one paying for it.
Mental illness has a sneaky way of selling us lies. Before we know it, we鈥檙e leaving the metaphorical grocery store with 10 pounds of dog food for a dog we don鈥檛 even have. We鈥檝e got heaps of cashews and a nut allergy.
In other words, someone pulled one over on us.
Not to be outdone, I鈥檝e compiled this list of some of the worst lies mental illness has ever told me. Because while it might be in my cart, I鈥檓 sure as hell not buying it.
1. You just aren鈥檛 an ambitious person.
For the longest time, as I struggled under the weight of my depression, I watched my friends and peers excel in their passions and/or careers. I was amazed with how driven they were, and wondered how they seemed to have it all.
Then I looked at myself, floundering. And I thought, 鈥淚鈥檓 just not driven like they are. I鈥檓 not ambitious. It鈥檚 not who I am.鈥
What I wish had occurred to me then was that when you鈥檙e struggling with mental illness, every bit of your resources goes towards your own survival.
Not getting a byline in The 黑料正能量 Times, not mastering a second language, not getting a graduate degree or whatever impressive thing I thought I 鈥渟hould鈥 be doing. Because staying alive? That was my priority. My only priority.
As I began to get the help I needed, I was able to start setting goals for myself and enjoying the pursuit of those goals. As it turns out, my 鈥渁mbition鈥 or work ethic wasn鈥檛 the problem 鈥 it was a psychiatric disability.
(That, and, you know, how capitalism tells us what is and isn鈥檛 鈥渟uccess鈥 and how it鈥檚 often super ableist in the first place…)
2. This is the way things will always be.
I can only speak for myself in this instance 鈥 I won鈥檛 assume to know anyone else鈥檚 situation. But when mental illness tells me that I somehow have the ability to know the future and that the future is entirely dismal, I鈥檝e learned to be a little more skeptical.
The reality is that I know nothing about the future with any certainty. That is not a psychic ability I possess, no matter how my depression might make me feel.
I remember where I was just a few years ago, desperately suicidal and lost, feeling that there was nothing ahead of me that was worth holding on for.
And then I look at where I am now, doing meaningful work and surrounded by a beautiful community that cares for me, and I can鈥檛 believe how wrong I was about my future.
I said that my future was empty. I believed that with everything in my being. But it couldn鈥檛 be more full, more vibrant, more fulfilling.
3. You are unlovable.
I have stayed in relationships that hurt me on every conceivable level because I honestly believed that I was unlovable. I thought that any person who loved me in spite of my illness was some kind of heroic savior to whom I owed my life.
I couldn鈥檛 have been more wrong.
The truth is that we all have endured some kind of trauma. We all bring 鈥渂aggage鈥 to a relationship 鈥 some more than others 鈥 because we have all lived, we鈥檝e all been hurt, we鈥檝e all been broken.
Those experiences are not flaws that make us unworthy of love 鈥 they are experiences that have shaped who we are. And the people who truly love us for us will know that mental illness is not a character flaw, but a struggle that makes us so very human.
The folks who can鈥檛 understand that aren鈥檛 proof that we鈥檙e unworthy. It simply means that they aren鈥檛 ready to be a part of our journey.
4. You will only be happy if you 鈥済et rid of鈥 your illness.
I used to think that I would only be happy if I came as close to being 鈥渘eurotypical鈥 as possible. I thought that I needed to be cured to live a whole, fulfilling life (which is one of the downsides of the medicalization of our struggles, but that鈥檚 a story for another day).
What I鈥檝e learned is that recovery is not about eliminating my mental illness.
For me, it鈥檚 been coexisting with it, adapting in the face of its challenges, and understanding how to ride the waves as they come.
My recovery has been about turning down the volume so that it鈥檚 no longer ear-shatteringly loud and senseless. Recovery is taking the unbearable sounds and quieting them into music.
5. Your struggles are all your fault.
For a long time, I believed that my mental illness was my own doing.
I believed that if I had chosen differently, the outcome would have somehow been better 鈥 maybe I wouldn鈥檛 be bipolar, anxious, agoraphobic, messy, broken.
It鈥檚 harder to be honest and say, 鈥淚t鈥檚 a complex combination of biological, sociological, and psychological factors that I will probably never understand in my lifetime.鈥
It鈥檚 harder to accept that some trauma may be inevitable or out of our control.
It鈥檚 harder to accept that society conditions us to feel like we are at fault for our own illness.
But it starts with realizing that regardless of how we arrived where we are, we can begin to practice compassion 鈥 compassion for ourselves, compassion for what we鈥檝e been through, compassion for all the difficult choices we made to survive.
And I鈥檝e found that, in the end, choosing compassion has done more for me in my recovery than self-blame and self-deprecation ever have.
6. You won鈥檛 live past age 18.
Or 19鈥 20鈥 21鈥 22鈥 23鈥 24…
And yet, my birthday rolls around every year, and I spend a good portion of my day in tears because I can鈥檛 believe that I鈥檓 still here.
Not only am I grateful that I鈥檓 here, but I鈥檓 grateful for the person I鈥檝e become 鈥 someone who wouldn鈥檛 be who he is without the struggle it took to get here.
By no means has this been an easy road. And some days 鈥 when my anxiety is so raw that I can鈥檛 leave my apartment, or when I鈥檓 wide awake at three in the morning, convinced that I鈥檓 total human garbage 鈥 I really wish that the journey had been easier rather than longer.
But I can honestly say that of any lie mental illness has ever whispered into my ear, this is the one that I鈥檓 most grateful to be wrong about.