One thing that I’ve learned is that we shouldn’t shy away from talking about mental health. Being open and honest about mental health is especially important right now when so many people are feeling even more isolated and depressed. I’ve always tried to be as open and helpful as possible when people are discussing mental health issues, because I’ve been there. I want to make it clear that I am in no way a mental health professional, and everything I mention throughout this article is my personal experience with mental health issues.
In my second year of high school, I had a mental breakdown. When the words “mental breakdown” are uttered, many people think of it like a quick snap. Maybe an hour of screaming and crying, maybe, or throwing things around the room. Many people think of mental breakdowns as a few moments in our lifetime of uncontrollable and wild emotions. While mental breakdowns can manifest in that form, mine was a slow, quiet drag over the timespan of weeks. There were a number of things which spurred it and not a single quick fix solution. Believe me, I tried many.
The biggest thing about mental health is that it doesn’t look the same for everyone. Mine wasn’t crazy, loud or wild. I wore the same clothes for days on end and hardly brushed my hair. I physically couldn’t eat anything because everything made me feel sick. I was tired and crying all the time. Some days, I just didn’t get out of bed. At some of the lowest points, I really thought I was dying. It wasn’t until those moments that I really thought what I was going through was a mental health crisis. I thought that having a mental breakdown only looked one certain way.
There wasn’t one single thing that caused this break, but rather a culmination of all the stressors in my life at that time. I’ve always considered myself an anxious person, but it was the first time I was really coming to terms with all of the things going on around me. It just felt too overwhelming.
Just like there wasn’t one single problem, there wasn’t one single solution either. I saw a lot of doctors, started going to therapy and saw my high school guidance counselor on a daily basis. I started taking prescribed medication for anxiety and started trying to focus more on things that made me happy instead of sad or stressed. I took a lot of walks, watched a lot of cartoons and found new music that I enjoyed.
Mostly, though, I talked about it. It took a while because while I genuinely wanted to get better — it’s hard to admit when you’re feeling so messed up and defeated. When I started talking about it, I was surprised. It wasn’t a burden, and even though I was met with some confusion about my problems from some people, others were willing to listen to me and understood what I was going through. The more I talked about how I was feeling, the more I found that there was a whole group of people who cared for and supported me, anxiety and all.
