Mental Health Week - Day !

I allude to my struggles with mental illness but I don't really address it as forthrightly as it deserves.  I guess even though I am the first to say that it is an illness much like diabetes, renal failure, etc., I guess I still put a stigma on it for myself.  Don't you dare dismiss anyone else's mental illness, because you will have a strong discussion on your hands, but I have always had a stigma when it comes to my own illness.  Weird but true.  I can advocate for anyone but myself.  I think it is because my mental illness has some positive aspects to my life.  For example, my depression protects me from difficult situations that may happen outside the four walls in which I mostly reside.  My anxiety has my back more than anyone in the world.  It alerts me to danger much before the danger can find me.  Also, I have made friends with my anxiety so sometimes I am able to say, "it's ok anxiety, I know you are there to protect me, but I've got this one." 

I love reading the works of people living with mental illness.  At this moment, I am not there.  I am one that still struggles with mental illness.  This past weekend was a particularly dark one.  Although I could see the sunshine outside and heard the birds chirping inviting me out, I couldn't venture outside.  I remained inside.  This morning, I took the recycling out.  Believe me, it was a big deal.  I was called to action by an article written by Wil Weaton who is living with mental illness.  Our journeys were so different yet so similar.  

He dated his illness back to childhood.  It got me thinking as I thought I had a really happy childhood.  It turns out I really did have a happy childhood yet one thing was ingrained in me.  I had to be liked by everyone.  Intellectually, I know that I am not everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of people that I don't admire.  However, as a child, I didn't understand that and I worked so hard in trying to get people to like me.  I had some success and some failures.  For years, although I knew my oldest sister loved me, I felt she didn't like me.  I wanted her to like me so badly.  One day, when I was about 7, she said something that indicated that she liked me.  I still cry when I think about that one statement.  I would do anything to get people to like me.  

The first time I was suffering with depression and anxiety, I tried a radical cure.  I tried stand up comedy.  It is actually not all that radical.  People who have mental illness develop an amazing sense of humour and they also have more experience making observations about the world.  Since people with mental illness are more comfortable observing rather than participating, we have a unqiue opportunity for comedy.  

I actually had some moderate success doing comedy.  My downfall was due to something that happens at every comedy club around the world and nobody warns you about.  There is always one person sitting in the first row, usually in the middle, That one person never smiles and never laughs.  The rest of the audience may be laughing so hard that they have tears rolling down their eyes.  I would always ignore the rest of the audience and focus on the one person who was neither smiling or laughing.  One time after a show, I even confronted that person and asked what was wrong with my act.  The woman said she thought it was great, but she just never laughs in public.  I didn't believe her so I continued to focus on the one person who appeared to not like me, to the detriment of the hundreds who did.  I stopped doing comedy because it was too difficult on my psyche.  

Regardless of quitting comedy, I had a number of items in my toolbox such as medication, therapy, good supports, and a determination so I was able to go from suffering with a mental illness to living with a mental illness.  

More than a decade passed, and life was going well.  Then, I met a group of people who didn't like me.  I worked really hard at getting them to like me.  It seemed the more I worked at it, the less success I had, infact, it seemed like they disliked me even more.  I should have been able to let it go, but I couldn't.  I kept working on making them like me.  The result was my emotional resilience was weakening and I stopped working on the relationships with people who actually liked me.  Even though I needed their support, I started pushing them away.  And then, I started to believe that because they didn't like me, nobody liked me.  I was alone in the world and hurting.  

I knew their resolve was more impenetrable than the Berlin Wall but I still kept banging my head against this brick wall.  When my head started to hurt, I then started looking everywhere for a magic wand to make them like me.  I looked everywhere.  And I missed out on seeing some beautiful sunsets, some wonderful laughs, some quiet insight, and some genuine love and support from people that I genuinely love and support.  

Last evening, I read an article on radical acceptance.  I have read articles on this concept before but this one spoke to me like none other.  It used a simple example.  You are driving to a job interview that you really want.  People cut you off in traffic, and you seem to hit every red light, and then there is a car accident ahead of you and you are delayed because of the work of emergency responders.  You really have two choices.  You can get angry, experience road rage, swear at people and arrive at the interview very upset and in a poor frame of mind.  Or, you can radically accept that these things happen and you have no control over them.  You might have the presence of mind to call the prospective employer and explain that you may be a few minutes late.  You might use the time as a gift for extra rehearsal of your interview to arrive in an even more positive frame of mind.  

So, it was difficult (and I'm not sure I'm 100% there) but I radically accepted that these people would never like me.  I would never find the magic wand to make that happen.  I could win the lottery and give them all the money, and although they likely would take the money, they still would never like me.  And, I have to learn to be ok with that.  

I have to be ok with having almost a whole audience laugh at my jokes, and to be ok with the one sourpuss sitting in the front row.  He just doesn't have a sense of humour and that has nothing to do with me.  

People who claim they don't live with mental illness are very scared of those who do live with mental illness.  They think it is contagious or something.  So, they make up things about people who live with mental illness.  They call them drama queens, they say they make up things, they say they can't be trusted, and they misinterpret everything.  It is important for me to acknowledge that it is true that this group of people don't like me.  One member of this group bravely shared air with me as we had a cup of coffee together.  He admitted that no one in the group liked me, and they found me too emotionally needy.  I have accepted that this group does not like me.  Infact, I know what egregious thing I did to the leader of this group.  I fell in love with one of her sons.  

My message today is a familiar one but admittedly so much easier said than done.  If you objectively look at  your life and your daily activities, you will likely find more good than bad.  Some authors say it is as much deviation as 90% to 10%.  I think that may be high, but regardless, we tend to obsess about the 10% making it feel like 90%.  We simply need to focus on the 90% and keep accumulating moments of enjoyment.  That is how we can build a happy life.  In my case, I life where I live with mental illness rather than suffering from it.  

Also, in the interest of coming clean and being brutally honest, I want to clarify something.  I actually only took out half of the recycling out earlier.  Now, I feel strong enough to take the other half out.