Please See Me

I go to work and to my appointments showered, with make-up on, hair done, nails painted, and cute outfit on.  I smile, laugh, and make jokes.  I carry on conversations with people I encounter daily.  I skillfully assist my students with whatever struggles and questions they have and celebrate their victories with them.  I try to spend time with friends at least once a week.  I'm currently in a musical and have pushed myself to step outside my comfort zone and meet new people, my fellow cast mates.  I sing 2-3 Sundays a month at church where I'm helping lead worship in front of several hundred people each week confidently and with a smile on my face.  Outwardly, I've got it together and am doing great.

On the inside, I struggle.  I consistently have racing thoughts telling me I'm unworthy, a bad friend, untalented.  I have frequent headaches.  I'm tired most of the time regardless of how much sleep I get.  I require a lot of time alone in order to recharge.  I have a low tolerance for noise and chaos much of the time, meaning that when I'm out at a restaurant or somewhere else with a lot of energy and activity, I often need to leave within an hour or I am overly-stimulated and begin to feel physical symptoms of my anxiety.  I fixate on my symptoms and am very self-conscious of them; when they are intensified, all I can think about is trying hard to "look normal" (whatever that means...).  I occasionally cry in the car on the way home from work just to release the feelings I've successfully suppressed all day.  My physical environment can get cluttered easily because when I'm home, the last thing I want to do is anything productive (again, I need a lot of alone time engaging in various forms of self-care in order to function "in public").

This, my friends, is what high-functioning mental illness looks like.  Until I started talking about this, most people were shocked that I struggle as much as I do.  I get my tasks and assignments done at work, I socialize with friends, I am involved in my community, I take care of business.  In a lot of ways, I feel incredibly lucky that I am able to function as well as I can.

However, it can be very challenging at times.  Living with high-functioning mental illness means that most people don't understand how much I might be hurting or struggling on the inside.  While I might be able to maintain my daily activities, it doesn't mean it's easy.  I might "look normal" but I also might be trying to breathe through an impending anxiety attack or choke back tears.

Because I present as having it all together, I think people often assume I'm fine.  But nothing makes me feel more seen and cared for than when people check in on me.  Truly, it means so much.  It is really easy for someone with mental illness to feel invisible (because society doesn't like to talk about or address it...).  Thus, when you acknowledge someone's mental illness and take interest in their well-being, it shows us that we are valued and "worth it."  And when you struggle with your purpose in life, knowing that you're seen, heard, acknowledged, affirmed...it is invaluable.

Here's the thing: My whole life is not centered on my mental illness - I write about it here simply because writing is one of the ways I cope with it (and I'm still fighting to end the stigma).  Ask my family, my best friends, my students, my supervisors.  I laugh every day, I carry on conversations, I'm goofy, I reach out to my people to check in, I am engaged in my community, I don't let my mental illness interfere with my ability to get projects done at work, my students have no idea I understand so vividly what they talk about when they describe their depression and anxiety.  Sometimes I get the feeling that people don't want to talk with me because they are afraid that I'm going to be unable to talk about anything but my mental illness.  Oh no...I have so many other topics I like to talk about.  However, if you know I'm struggling and you choose to not acknowledge it on occasion (even if it's just a quick, "Hey, how are you doing these days?" or "I've been thinking of you..."), it hurts.  Deeply.  A small check in to make me feel visible, and then I promise we can talk about other stuff (unless, of course, you want to know where things are at with me, in which I'll answer whatever questions you have).

While I am not mental illness (I have it), I do want to be seen.  Please...see me.