How Learning About My Mental Health Changed My Life

While this post isn't about the normal topic of food, it's still an important one. 

When I was little, I was an overly sensitive kid. It didn't take much to hurt my feelings or make me cry, and I mostly coped with that by masking my sensitivity with false toughness. So, naturally, I was a bully. My feeling was, if I hurt you first, you can't hurt me. Once I grew out of that shameful phase and started to let my sensitivity show, I was made fun of. That confusion turned into resentment, and then bitterness, which consequently cast a dark shadow on most of my preteen-to-teen years. 

I've had friendships end because of my oversensitivity; relationships that have set me back because I believed I was the problem. I didn't want to be labeled as a drama queen. Even my relationship with my mother was muddled because of unexplained tantrums and exaggerations of what could be classified as "normal" arguments. She would say one thing, and I would hear something completely different. She didn't understand me.  I wasn't like other people, and not being able to relate to others really hurt me. 

Only recently has there been an outpouring of information and acknowledgement of mental health issues (Even as I type the words "mental health," I wince.) For a long time it wasn't something that people understood or felt comfortable discussing, and I admit that it's still something I struggle to talk about. Still, it's important, especially to me.

A few years ago, I went through the worst breakup of my life. Normally, I'd go through my stages of grief and try to move forward, but this time, it was different. I was older, had more on the line, and I was more vulnerable than ever. Reaching such a low got me into a counselor's office, something I hadn't considered doing up until that point. I always felt that seeing a "shrink" meant admitting that I had psychological problems — and, honestly, that's exactly what it is. Only now, it's not taboo.

I was shocked to discover that a shocking number of people deal with mental health issues, and every case isn't always extreme — as we were made to believe. In fact, it's pretty damn normal. And admitting that you have mental health problems doesn't make you abnormal — not in the slightest.

After speaking with said counselor, as well as tracking my family's mental health history and consulting other professionals, it was concluded that I suffered from chronic depression and anxiety. And suddenly, everything made sense. 

I have struggled my entire life to try and figure out how to reverse my sensitivity, how to toughen up, how to deflect hurtful words and actions — to no avail, of course. I kept thinking that there was something inside of me that was broken, and I wasted away trying to "fix" it. The diagnosis changed my perspective about my entire life... about my entire self. It helped me assess both my past and present behaviors, and provided me with insight into how my brain actually functions.

To be clear, it in no way FIXED anything; it did something so much more than that. It provided me with understanding, something I could explain to myself and to others. It let me strategize what I could do to prevent my anxiety and thwart my depression. Recognizing triggers for my depression has afforded me the opportunity to pull myself out of that rut, before I'm too far in.

Now, I know who I am and why I am, and I no longer apologize for that. I'm in no way perfect, and still let people (and myself) down sometimes, but I'm happy to say that I am more complete than I have ever been.