It is hard to talk about mental health. It’s still hard for me, and I have too many years of practice doing it.
These days, I make a conscious effort to be open about my mental health, but I wasn’t always that way. I’ve felt the undercurrent of depression since before I was in high school. When it started to get debilitating, I hid it from myself and those close to me. It took me months to tell my parents and even longer to tell anyone else. How could I describe what I was feeling if I didn’t understand it myself?
The Problem: The ‘Sick-Enough’ Debate
My depression has always tried to convince me that I’m exaggerating. My depression tells me that I’m not sick — instead, it’s some collection of personal flaws of mine. I’m not demotivated or fatigued; I’m lazy. Sensitivity turns into weakness; sadness turns into entitled whining and even more weakness.Continue Reading