Invisible Things, Part 1

Forewarning: This is going to be a fairly heavy series of posts discussing mental health and anxiety. Nothing triggering — I hope — but you might want to steer clear of the blog for a month or two if you usually come here for laughs.

I’m going to be posting on a Wednesday-Thursday schedule until these posts are done.

For people who’d prefer to miss them, but would like the other life updates I post in between: All of the posts in this series are titled ‘Invisible Things’ and tagged ‘anxiety’. Skip those and you should be set.

At what point does an intermittent problem become chronic?

It can’t be when the little girl is quiet in school, a little afraid of her teachers, slow to make friends. Can it? A lot of kids are shy.

It could be when the little girl becomes a moody teenager. Family issues can certainly cause mental health problems. She’s quiet a lot, not entirely happy. Still very shy. But her parents are both supportive, if they’re not together, and she’s high-achieving in school, and she has close friends and passionate hobbies — well, she’s struggling with a difficult situation, but it’s okay.

It could be when she gets to college and has a rough first year. But, well, freshman year is rough for a lot of people. She sees real, diagnosed mental health issues for the first time, and it’s not like that for her. She gets good grades. She has good friends. She doesn’t self-destruct. She’s never had a panic attack or a day where she can’t get out of bed. It’s a rough situation, but she does okay.

It could be when she goes to England. She’s a little moody, a little shy, slow to make friends. Spends a lot of time in the computer lab and travels by herself. But, well, her laptop broke down in the first few weeks of the semester and nobody gets their shit together in time to make travel plans. And if she’s a little isolated, a little isolating — well, that’s just how she is, right? If she’s a bit more stressed out than she has a right to be — well, culture shock hits people differently. It’s probably just the situation.

It could be when she graduates college, and realizes that when she was in England, all those awesome friends she made in college went on with their lives. When she realizes that the friends she made in high school are long out of touch. When she spends a year housesitting a too-large house alone at the end of a lonely road, and works a job way under her capabilities while she waits for her Peace Corps application to go through. She’s upset, and isolated, and lonely, and she wonders…but she’s never had a panic attack. She’s never been unable to get out of bed. She’s in a difficult situation.

At what point do you stop saying, This problem is situational, and start to say, There will always be a situation?

I’m finally hitting that point.

I’ve been struggling with an anxiety problem for I don’t know how long — definitely the last six months; probably the last five or six years; possibly my whole life. I’ve dealt with it, for the most part, in silence. It’s only in the last year or so that I’ve started to realize that it is a real problem, one that can be addressed, and one that affects my life on an almost daily basis; it’s only in the last few months that I’ve started to talk about it openly. Even now I catch myself wondering: Can I really claim this thing, own this thing, if I’ve never had a breakdown? If I’m happy a lot of the time and good at what I do? If I’m having to insist over and over that something is wrong, it’s affecting my daily life, even though it doesn’t always show?

But, you know, I am the kind of person who keeps her shit together in public and saves the tears for the privacy of her room. Who gets her work done on time even if she skips a meal because she can’t think straight long enough to put a pot on the stove. Who spends an hour listening to music turned up loud enough to drown out her thoughts only to deliver a badass lesson. Who relies so much on language, but is so very much without a linguistic framework to elaborate on “I’m not okay” that “I’m doing okay” slips out instead, even to a doctor.

So I really don’t know what kind of a problem this is. I can’t gauge severity on a scale of 1 to 10; to do that accurately I’d have to be able to see into a few people’s heads, feel the tenor of their thoughts, and compare them against mine. For all I know, my 3 is your 11, or vice versa. Narrative is the only way I can build a basis for comparison, and narrative is a slippery thing. I see the world differently from you, you from him, he from her, she from me.

That’s why I want to write these posts, even as I’m struggling to conceptualize this thing in my head. One of the most helpful things for me, the last few months, is talking to people who do have diagnosed mental disorders, or experience with people who do, and being able to see where the patterns line up. I want my experience to be available for others to draw from.

I will say, though, that this is pretty much the online equivalent of stripping naked in a public square and shouting from a pedestal. It’s a little bit terrifying and a lot more exposure than I really want. Please be thoughtful in your responses, not only for my sake, but because there are a lot of people in the world who feel a lot like me — and who may have kept silent out of fear or shame.

One final note to people who know me well and are hearing about this for the first time — who might be upset, if not entirely surprised, by some of the things I share here. I’ve talked with a lot of people about what I’ve been going through. I haven’t talked to a whole lot more. I have the benefit of some really excellent support systems — in Peace Corps, at home, from college, in the SFF community — which I most definitely have not strained to the limits.

If you are a good friend learning about this, for the first time, in this very public setting: Please don’t be upset. I know that I can trust you and that you will be there for me. But realize that talking about this, for me, is terrifying and emotionally exhausting. There is a lot of stigma associated with mental illness, and it’s hard not to internalize some of that. And the things that are driving me to finally open up about this are really, genuinely upsetting. I have yet to be able to open a conversation about anxiety without either shutting down or crying. I also really, really have not developed the language to explain what’s going on with me, and I’ve needed people who can help me articulate. Because of that, I’ve talked mostly to people who have spoken openly about their own struggles with mental health, who have explicitly supported me before, and who are easily, immediately, and reliably available. Please, by all means, get in touch with me if you want to talk — I like support and I also want to be able to support you — but I really do ask you to be empathetic and not to be hurt if I am a little reticent.

Lest you worry in between posts, since it will probably take a month or two to get the whole story down: I am currently dealing with this constructively and with the extent of Peace Corps’ resources (which are free and immediately available, at the very least) at my disposal. I am not in a desperate place, I am not self-destructive, and I am not without help. If anything, I am a little concerned that the response to these posts will be smothering. So please, try not to worry about me!

2 thoughts on “Invisible Things, Part 1”

  1. This must have been a really tough post to write.
    It takes a lot of courage to put something like this out there. You have my respect, as well as my best wishes!

    I can definitely empathize with a lot of this. I am an introvert, and was quite shy for my first couple decades.
    It really can be tricky to determine where a personal challenge slides over into something that needs help. I think that looking for patterns is good, as well as looking at the degree of the problem.

    In my view, it is good to look for help *at the very least* if the issue is preventing you from doing things, and lowering your quality of life.
    I also certainly think that it’s better to get help if there is any doubt at all!

    It is both funny and sad: in our culture, it’s ok to get help with all sorts of things. You can get a personal trainer. You can go to weight support groups. You can go to seminars that will help you get organized.
    Really, for most of us, such things are fine-tuning things that aren’t at a *truly* problematic level — and yet it is considered ok to get help to make things even better.

    With mental health, it seems like it is only grudgingly accepted that help is needed in truly dire straits. Unfortunately, that means that a lot of people go from needing a little help to a lot of help because they tried to struggle on . . . and on . . . and on until they just couldn’t cope any more.

    In any case, this is my rather roundabout way of saying:
    I think help is great!

    Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. I am glad that you have a good support network, and I am happy to be part of it if I can contribute.

    1. Thanks for the support <3

      Yeah, when it comes to mental health, it's hard to ask for help in a situation that isn't immediately and obviously urgent. I've had a lot of trouble specifically because it *hasn't* impacted my ability to function in public in a big way -- so it's hard to point to situations as evidence that something is wrong, and I have to look at patterns over the long term. Which are a lot harder to define and explain; I wasn't really able to do it effectively until I wrote this series of posts.

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