Please share your opinion of this post with us!
Our comments section is below!

Looking self in smartphone

Sean Fesses Up To Sean About His Mental Health

I have never fessed up and actually recognised where my thoughts go sometimes. But the fact that I cannot care for myself, the fact that I cannot remember when was the last time I was happy and the fact that I do not see myself as a living being in the coming years scare me. It should scare others around me more than it does, and that is why I fight stigma.


A disclaimer about opinion.

 

 

 

I have been suffering from Major Depressive Disorder and Anxiety Disorder for the past five to six years now. Over the years, my condition has worsened and I have been prescribed a number of cocktails (medication) that help initially, but at the end, still, feed into the never ending cycle that goes on in my brain.

I have never really fessed up to what I suffer from and truly look at why I fight stigma strongly, at a level that even I did not expect. From building (literally) this site to managing social media accounts, I never seem to run out of steam when it comes to fighting other’s stigma about my condition.

Us Versus Them

In one of my previous posts about stigmatisation, it seems that a lot of today’s issues seem to be about a us versus them attitude. We see others as “wrong” because we don’t happen to be in the same group as them. I guess it is the same with myself. Others have never been in my shoes and have never suffered from MDD, Anxiety Disorder, or could have lived their life without going through a mental health issue.

Similarly to expanding our mind to other’s opinion about the nuclear cold war that we thread on daily or about climate change, I want to expand the mind of others and let them know that mental health, like our physical health, can greatly affect our lives. Improperly managed, the consequences can be devastating. Debilitating even. But it can be difficult to quantify the effects of poor mental health, and that is where stigma stems from.

Am I Getting Better?

I really doubt so. Recently, I was warded in a hospital because I posed a risk to myself. Crazy, right? The doctors there recommended other non-medication forms of therapy because of the duration I’ve been struggling with my own demons. That scares me.

It scares me that what was once a discussion about medicine and psychotherapy has manifested into something that is comparable to treatment for a broken leg. I guess telling people to get over a broken leg doesn’t sound too right because they actually need treatment. And I am at that stage, real, physical, electrical treatment for something that is ‘in my head’, as many call it. Blurring the lines between what is a treatment for a physical ailment and a mental illness really gets to me.

Stuck In My Own Campfire

Regardless of what medication and treatment I will potentially go through, the damage has been done. An ankle that has been sprained will be more easily sprained in the future. The words that others have said, the thoughts that pass through my mind, the actions that I have done to others or myself, they linger and they feed the fire that is themselves. A campfire that every once in a while, flickers and burns you. Enough to hurt, but not enough to kill.

While I try to fight to get better, and get further away from this campfire which flames you will be able to see over the horizon, I fight to try to describe to people, because I take medication and go for treatment, makes me no different from someone who is physically ill, and we need to be talking about mental health as much as physical health.

Fight Like It’s My Last Day

Whenever I start talking about something I like, I tend to speak louder. That is if I even speak up at all. But whenever I’m fighting stigma or describing what I go through on a daily basis, I tend to speak with more passion than anything else.

That is because I hold a can of gasoline. That is because one day I will get fatigued and drop this can. If I am not far enough away from the campfire I started, everything will ‘pop’ and I will cease to exist. A fitting metaphor for what goes through my mind. As the doctors have fittingly put it, I am a man waiting to snap. And it can be scary.

A Man Waiting To Snap

I have never fessed up and actually recognised where my thoughts go sometimes. But the fact that I cannot care for myself, the fact that I cannot remember when was the last time I was happy and the fact that I do not see myself as a living being in the coming years scare me. It should scare others around me more than it does, and that is why I fight stigma.

Being anxious sometimes is not suffering from a disorder. Being sad is not being depressed. Being neat and organised doesn’t mean you have OCD. People have poor mental health because of the environment they go through as well as an imbalance of chemicals in their brain.

Just because you can’t see the cause of what is causing this ‘illness’ doesn’t mean you can discount it entirely. You cannot tell someone else’s story, but you sure can wipe it all out.

 




We hope you liked that post. Feel free to read another article or share your opinion.
Our comments section is below!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.