When I think back to my childhood, one word comes to mind: “Sensitive”. The term was constantly thrown at me like a dart for not understanding or being able to control my whirlwind of emotions. As I’ve mentioned in previous articles, my mental health issues have been with me for as long as I remember. In fact, my mental health was at its worst during childhood because I didn’t have any understanding of mental illness. Struggling mentally was also considered something to be ashamed of when I was growing up.
The act of crying was not viewed or looked at with a positive perspective of allowing the release of emotions. Instead, if I cried, expressed my sadness or let out a complaint about something I was struggling with internally, I was a problem and abnormal. Every time the word sensitive was thrown at me, it felt like someone was ripping my heart open and I felt further segregated from everyone else. People would say to me: “What’s wrong with you, now?”
I regularly hear mental health being described as an invisible illness or disorder. It’s understandable why people feel this way since, unlike many physical health concerns, it is not so obvious. Most of the time, people who are depressed don’t wear it on their sleeve. While anxiety may be more obvious, many also dust it off as someone being shy, a bit nervous or having poor social skills.
I can’t blame people for thinking this way in some regard. After all, when I was a child, I didn’t have the answers. With that in mind, however, it’s clear we do still need more compassion. In my case, mental illness being invisible or more concealed is usually a sign I am coping quite well.
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By contrast, if I am not coping well, I find that my mental health starts to manifest and become a physical health issue as well as an emotional one. As I sit here writing this article, I reflect on last year and the beginning of this year. I still have the physical proof of just how much I was struggling with my mental health and how that intense emotion started to show up physically on my body. I look down at my fingernails where I’ve picked all the surrounding skin and my chin which still has the scar marks from the many stress spots I endured.
This year, I went through what is considered one of the most stressful experiences in a person’s life – the house hunt. While I’m thrilled to have secured a new home, it wasn’t easy going through months not knowing where I would end up. I stayed in two rental properties in areas I had never previously visited in my life. I had no friends in either of the areas and I sort of put my life on hold, at least the social side, for the year.
During this time, I was also learning how to drive, which is definitely one of my biggest fears. For the most part in my life, I don’t step out of my comfort zone much. With driving, however, I definitely did. It was a place where I felt entirely vulnerable and all my anxiety shun through.
I felt my inner child – whom I’ve always associated so much shame with – ready to break through my chest. I’ve been learning to drive now for over a year and I still struggle considerably with anxiety when I’m behind the wheel. It’s something about putting yourself out there, being in people’s way and the feeling that I don’t belong.
[ Overthinking: There are times I wish I could escape my mindOpens in new window ]
For most people, these are strange thoughts to associate with driving but, as I say, it’s a vulnerable place for me where I am totally out of my comfort zone, hence, why these thoughts that plagued my mind during my childhood years come up.
These big challenges meant my mental health was considerably up and down in the last quarter of 2022 and the start of 2023. I never felt more alone or isolated. I’m not exactly a social butterfly but I truly noticed the difference this year in not having that 10-20 per cent of social interaction and activities each week.
The problem with the increased loneliness was I was left with my thoughts on a 24/7 loop. My mind became such a toxic place to be but one I couldn’t quite escape. I overworked as a means to distract myself and this only left me more exhausted. I found myself not getting good quality sleep, tossing and turning and having nightmares. Alternatively, I would miss random nights of sleep. When out of the bed, I would avoid food and nourishing my body because I was not thinking about sustaining myself.
I was breaking out in spots. When one spot would go, three more would pop up. I would nervously pick the skin around my nails until I was left bleeding and tender. In regard to physical health, I lacked the motivation to go outside and get exercise. Self-care and self-compassion were certainly last on my list of priorities and my immunity was low.
[ Stigma: ‘I wish I hadn’t internalised so much of it’Opens in new window ]
I want to remind people that mental health problems are not totally invisible or solely emotional. It comes second nature to us that we prioritise physical health concerns but we also need to be mindful that mental health can become exactly that.
We must support one another and facilitate open conversations around mental health. While someone may look “normal” on the outside, they could be experiencing a high-functioning mental health concern on the inside. They could be bottling everything up and, as a result, releasing this stress back onto themselves.
According to Mental Health Ireland, this country has one of the highest rates of mental illness in Europe. Deeming mental illness as only being invisible makes sufferers feel more isolated and alone. It continues to make them the “other” – the person who cannot manage their emotions, is always upset and who you need to watch your words and actions around.
Just because the signs are not always in physical form, it doesn’t mean our struggles are less important. That being said, we shouldn’t only receive adequate support when our mental health problem starts to impact our physical health.