The trouble with any kind of mental illness is that it’s all in your head. Unlike a broken limb or a seasonal cold, there often isn’t any outward sign that something is wrong. Thus, suffering from any kind of mental condition becomes taboo. Without any viable evidence to back up your claims, how is anyone supposed to take you seriously?
Your brain is just another organ. Like any other body part, it is susceptible to illness and injury — even if it isn’t externally apparent — and any damage done needs treatment. Mental health disorders can range from mild cases of anxiety and autism to more severe cases of schizophrenia and depression, with signs and symptoms that overlap. Each disorder can be mild to severe, and people often will be diagnosed with more than one, if they are diagnosed at all.
Generalized anxiety disorder is a mental condition characterized by unceasing, exaggerated, and an often irrational worry about routine activities. Anxiety can be broken down into various types, including social and exam anxiety, and is typically expressed through panic attacks, fatigue, and/or insomnia, irritability, and muscle fatigue. It’s also most commonly diagnosed alongside depression. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, it affects about 6.8 million people in the United States — although less than half are seeking treatment. I am among the few.
Unlike physical ailments, mental illnesses tend to have just a few basic symptoms that are tracked across patients. For the most part, everyone experiences their disorder differently, even if they have the same diagnosis and symptoms. The brain is tricky like that, but what else do you expect from an organ that named itself?
Technically, my diagnosis is severe generalized anxiety disorder and manic depression, although it has changed a lot since I was first diagnosed at 13. While I have various treatments, I am currently on a combination of prescriptions and therapy that seems to be working.
My anxiety is characterized by a constant rollercoaster, which I separate into “peaks” and “valleys.” My peak days are those really good days when I can be myself: outspoken, happy, social, and generally unconcerned with life. I still have my doubts, my worries, and my negative thoughts, but they are unable to take away from the manic power of my day. My valley days are the opposite: I’m lucky to have groomed myself properly, let alone leave my house. Small things that are of no consequence to most — talking on the phone, turning on an unfamiliar road, forgetting to turn off a light — can send me into a spiral. My panic attacks are rare, but when they do occur they are extreme (and embarrassing) fits that involve crying, rocking, and patting my chest.
How can I describe anxiety beyond its textbook terms? The Spoon Theory was originally written to explain an immune disease, although it has become immensely popular as a go-to description for people who suffer from conditions that are not physically obvious. Although it’s a little long, it’s the best way to describe living with a mental illness I have ever read.
The trouble with mental illness is that it’s too awkward to talk about, partially due to its habit of being lumped in with addiction disorders. However, according to a 2014 study by the National Institute of Mental Health, Oklahoma is second in the amount of cases of mental illness reported. With that many people suffering and no one speaking up, what’s going to happen?
