*Content Warning: This piece contains a references suicide, which may be triggering to some.*
Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Bipolar with a dash of Borderline Personality Disorder, some Major Depression and a sprinkling of Anxiety, just to keep things interesting. These are things I openly share with new people that come into my life for a lot of reasons, we’ll get to those. I will say that discussing these things with potential romantic partners always makes me feel like I would be better not having one at all. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that I was too much, too forward, that the way I feel is just “a lot to handle,” I could afford to see my therapist more frequently than I do now.
I have a habit of treating my illnesses with jokes and witty sarcasm because let’s face it, how else am I going to survive? Survive. Now that’s a strong word, am I right? That’s what I do every single day. I survive the ongoing battle that rages within my own mind. It’s sort of like living but with much higher stakes. Did you know that those with Border Line Personality Disorder have a high risk of losing their life to suicide? I think about that statistic constantly because some days I’m convinced that I’m just living on borrowed time.
If you were to ask anyone who knows me, they would tell you that I am always happy, always smiling, that I’m one of the most optimistic people on the planet. For someone like me, those are some scary compliments. This brings me to the first reason that I am so open about what tumbles around my mind, I am what you would call high functioning, most days at least.
I can absolutely show up to your event, put that mask on, and then as soon as I’m safely in my car, cry, and I don’t mean light tears, I mean sob uncontrollably all the way home. Then sit in my drive way, take deep breaths, and try to unpack what just triggered this latest meltdown. This is the me that is vulnerable, that I keep tucked away, that only a select few people have encountered.
Talking about your mental health is scary. Scary isn’t even a big enough word, it’s terrifying. You never know how people are going to react. There’s either major concern that you’re going to jump off a bridge at the end of the conversation, or none at all. The people that say, “well have you thought about just waking up and being happy? You can choose to be happy, what if you write down everything you’re grateful for every day?” This makes me to want to simultaneously roll my eyes into my head until they disappear and punch them in the face.
I am literally doing everything I can every day to feel better, to heal from my childhood trauma, to understand how I made it to this place, and figure out how I can handle things responsibly. It’s far from easy, but I’m certainly doing the best that I can.
Here we are at reason number two: I want the people in my life to be educated. I want people to stop falling in the extremes, to understand the stigma and why what they are saying is hurtful. I want the people I care about to understand why I do what I do, and that sometimes I have literally zero control over it. Taking my medications, working out, going to see my therapist, my regular doctor and even spending some time in a mental health facility can only do so much. Having people who can recognize when I’m manic or in a low period, and need help being brought back to neutral is so incredibly helpful.
The final reason is the hardest reason to talk about. Five years ago I received one of the worst phone calls I could ever imagine. One of my best friends lost his life to suicide. If you’ve never experienced what this feels like, you can’t imagine the anger, sadness, horror, guilt, and grief, that floods you all at once.
He was one of the brightest souls I have ever known, always smiling, making people laugh, and lighting up every room he walked into. (Sound familiar?) I had no idea he was struggling; most people didn’t. The hardest part of grieving someone you love who is taken from you in this way, is the guilt that drowns you because you couldn’t save them. If we don’t talk about the struggles as much as we talk about the good things, no one can help.
Trust me when I tell you that people want to help, they want to understand, and they want you to feel better. One of my favorite quotes is:
The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.”
— Juliette Lewis
I’ve come close to ending my life twice and have a history of self-harm. I’m so proud of myself that I have able to reach out and get the help that I needed. I’m not ashamed of that, and you shouldn’t be either, we need to keep the conversation open, end the stigma in any way that we can. There’s nothing to be ashamed of for being human and having feelings, big or small. For those of us that feel things in big ways, keep feeling and taking up space, I see you, you matter, and you’ll never be too much in this world.
