What actually is Mental Health? By definition, it is a person’s condition with regard to their psychological and emotional well-being.
What are Mental Health conditions?
There are more than 200 classified forms of mental illnesses. There are 5 major categories of mental illness: Anxiety Disorder, Mood Disorder, Schizophrenic/Psychotic Disorders, Clinical Depression and Bipolar Disorder.
What is a stigma and how does it relate to mental health?
A stigma is when someone sees you in a negative fashion because of your mental illness. This stigma can grow into discrimination as someone would treat you negatively because of your mental illness.
According to the Mayo Clinic, located in Rochester, MN, the harmful effects of a stigma can include:
· Reluctance to seek help or treatment
· Lack of understanding by family, friends, co-workers and others
· Fewer opportunities for work, school or social activity
· Bullying, physical violence or harassment
· Health Insurance that doesn’t cover mental health treatment
· The belief that you will never succeed at certain challenges or that you cannot improve your situation
Mental Health is nothing to joke at or point a finger at. Looking back to my younger days, you know the days, when I was 100 pounds lighter and didn’t crack and pop when I tried to stand, I can clearly see the anxiety that was prevalent in myself and my family. But this was not something that you talked about. You put on your big girl panties and just did it, skipped it or just ran and hid. There was no one to talk to about it. You can’t ask for help at school because they don’t offer that type of staff to help children deal with the ever-changing world around them.
Bringing us to the ugly face of 2020, distance learning, parents trying to teach their children and working from home or being unemployed, has caused extreme stress and panic in everyone. I’m a planner. Even if I say that I don’t have a plan, my brain is always spinning 90 miles an hour trying to figure out what I need to do and what I want to do. A survey taken by Mental Health America (MHA) using 1.5 million people rated that there was a 93% increase in anxiety in 2020 verses 2019. This really comes at no surprise.
At the end of 2018 through the beginning of 2019, our family had the most unimaginable 4 months. The hardest part for me, losing my rock. My pillar. My validator. Previously, I had been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) a few years prior. My doctor had me on medication to help cope with this and just ease the overall tension that was ever so present in me. Every doctor and follow up visits, there was always a little time when he said, I really think that talk with a therapist would help you. I know a great group and proceeded to give me their information. Nah, I’m good. I don’t need to pay someone to listen to me. What were they going to do? Wave a magical wand? I’ll just keep pushing this shit aside and push through it. I have bills to pay and a life to try and live. But in November of 2018, my life shattered. I completely broke. I was lucky enough to notice these changes in myself and have the insurance that would cover the cost of this (well after I met their fucking ridiculous deductibles). I spotted these changes in myself and I made the call. I was so nervous. So, so fucking nervous. Just grit your teeth, fake your smile and push your way through it.
Not only was I lucky enough to have a doctor that saw the signs and could point me in the right direction. So, after a panicky and nervous call, a lengthy checklist of boxes and questions I had no answers too, they were actually able to set me up with one of their therapists. I was literally a hot fucking mess. Ridden with anxiety, I mustered up the courage to finally make the appointment. Trying to pump myself up for it, let’s do this shit. In my mind, I absolutely had no other choice. It was getting the help or put my family through another loss. I knew the later was not an option, so I went in. The session started with, “tell me why you wanted to come here and talk?”, or something along those very therapisty lines (PS sometimes I like to just make up my own words. Deal.). Holding back tears and with my voice cracking, I said that I had lost my mom. We finished our first session that day. I was not magically cured after that one session. Damn. Before I drove away, I just sat in my car for a moment. Hey, how nuts do you think she thinks I am? Why did I say that? And I continued burying myself in this rabbit hole of self-sabotage.
Therapy and medication are not a magic. I don’t wake up every day with a smile on my face and jump out of bed feeling great. Every day is a fucking battle. It’s a battle that is exhausting. Absolutely debilitating at times. I still push myself every day.
There is nothing wrong with seeking help. You are better than a stigma. You have worth and what you do for this world is more than you will ever know. Don’t ever give up, you are more than enough.
National Helpline
1-800-662-HELP
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255
The Content posted on Inspired in Grief is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition.
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