I want to tell you a story.
There once was a beautiful young woman who looked perfect in every way. She had this amazing, gorgeous body, long, thick hair, a beautiful face and a heart full of love and kindness. Growing up she was the girl everyone wanted to be around. The other girls wanted to be like her and the boys wanted to date her. She was the type of person you wanted to hate because of her perfection, but you couldn’t because you loved and admired her spirit and heart.
But underneath she had a dark secret. One hidden so deep, no one was able to see any hint of it. She kept her scars deep within her, and found ways to cope with all of the new wounds that appeared, wounds no one saw happen.
Deep inside she battled a war against anxiety, depression, and self-hate. No one noticed that she was unable to keep any food in her stomach. No one paid attention as she feverishly exercised to maintain her perfect body. No one noticed as she cried herself to sleep many nights from the words spoken to her with malice, slicing deep gashes into her heart.
No one else heard the constant voice in her head, reminding her of her imperfections. She fought to keep those voices at bay, but every day they returned. Everyday they became louder and harder to ignore.
“You’re worthless without me.”
“Who would want someone as broken as you?”
Everyday the voices would repeat themselves over and over. Torturing her until food no longer could remain in her body. Tormenting her until she was left unable to function without the constant fear and anxiety of needing to remain perfect for them.
“You’re not enough.” That’s a line I hear constantly from my inner demons. “You’ll never be good enough.” I still bear those scars from my demons. And every time I think that scar has finally healed enough to start moving on, something happens and the scab is ripped off and the wound becomes even deeper.
Mental health in our society has become a common topic. It is only recently been brought out into the light for the world to see. For so many years, we have all lived in shame of our diagnosis. We have had to live in a world where we have had to wear masks to hide our pain.
Depression, Anxiety, Bipolar, Schizophrenia, PTSD, Eating Disorders such as Anorexia and Bulimia, and Self Harm, just to name a few, are all considered “invisible illnesses” because many of them, with the exception of the Self Harm, are in fact invisible. And because of this, society as a whole has preferred to just pretend they don’t exist.
Those of us living in this hidden world are told to “just get over it.” That we are just “seeking attention” or we are “too lazy” if we are unable to work because of our diagnosis. What many people don’t realize is that we fight a daily battle in order to just function in the world outside.
Society has a set of standards that everyone looks to as the “ideal standards” for perfection or being the “ideal person.” We have in our minds how a woman’s or a man’s body is supposed to look and everyone struggles to obtain that image. We frown upon anyone who doesn’t match up to those ideals and often ridicule them because of their “perceived” flaws.
From an early age, kids are mercilessly teased and harassed for not achieving high marks in school or are not what society deems as “pretty” or “handsome.”
Girls are considered “sluts” or “teases” if they are flirtatious. While boys are congratulated for their “scores.” Unfortunately, that doesn’t change as we age.
We are cruel and devious with our taunts and callous remarks to one another. We are all quick to pass judgement on one another without even taking the time to even say hello because we fear that maybe they will see our own hidden demons and insecurities (and let’s face it, we all have them).
We try to crack down on the bullying in our schools; but we quickly forget that it our own behavior that our children learn from.
Yes, things were different when we were growing up, but the bullying was still there. It was still as brutal and cruel as it is now. Only back then we kept things more quiet. Back then we were more worried about keeping up appearances than making waves.
Think if it as if your heart was made of balloons (just because it is a physical thing, doesn’t make it any less fragile). Every time someone said something cruel or callous, a balloon would pop as if hit by an arrow. After a while, the shape would begin to not look like a heart. You see…once those balloons are gone, you can never replace them. No matter how many times someone says “I’m sorry”, no matter how many times you try to tape over the holes and try to blow them back up; the holes are still there and eventually they fall to the ground unable to be repaired.
This is the same with mental health. We are so scared of what others will say about us or think of us, we choose to fight this battle alone instead of seeking out the help we need. We avoid the medications that could ultimately save our lives because we don’t want anyone to know of our secret illness.
I want to say…you’re not alone in your fight. We are not alone. There is no shame in our battles. The wars we wage can be some of the most deadliest, and we need to know that we are not alone.
I am a recovering cutter. Everyday I look at my scars and I am reminded that while I still continue to fight those demons that tell me I’m not good enough, that I’m not worthy of love, that I’m too fat to be loved, and that I’m an embarrassment to my family; I’m still alive because I’m worthy in God’s eyes. I’m reminded that every time my dad hugs me tight, or my mom cries because I’m hurting, that I am loved by my family. Those scars remind me that while I may not be a size 2 or even a size 12, I’m still beautiful. They remind me that I can still win battles and that I’m not a failure because I have succeeded in getting my college degree and staying with my treatment and medication.
I have Bipolar, Depression, Anxiety, and PTSD. For many years I fought my battles alone because I did not want anyone else inside of my head. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was going through because I thought they would think less of me. And because of my bottling everything inside for so many years, I have had many suicide attempts. But I have survived. I have fought and won. And I am still continuing the fight.
You are not alone…four words I wish I had heard much earlier in my life. It took me a long time before I heard and actually listened to the person saying those words. It took me a long time before I admitted that I needed the help; but I did admit it. We cannot win these battles alone, we need to have those we love and trust beside us. Not just to rally along beside us, but to also comfort us in our pain and our weakness.
It is time for society to end the stigma against those with mental health illnesses. No longer should we be kept in the dark and left alone to fight our battles. The time has come for us to realize that regardless of your faith, there is ultimately one “Golden Rule”…Treat others as you wish to be treated. If you were to treat those around as you would want them to treat you, maybe our battles would become a little bit easier and the pain a little bit duller.
We Are Not Alone I want to tell you a story. There once was a beautiful young woman who looked perfect in every way.
