Call Me By My Name
Blarney Castle, Ireland
You can’t fight what you can’t name, but it can feel almost impossible to name what you can’t see.
You can feel it coming. Your thoughts start getting faster like a bullet ricocheting off stainless-steel walls. A wave of heat rolls from your chest to your chin. Your throat gets a little tighter, your chest feels constrained, you start gulping for oxygen while your head starts spinning.
Sometimes it leaves as quickly as it comes, retreating in defeat. Sometimes it lingers, flexing its muscles and making you fight for your peace. On a good day, you know you are strong with a fully stocked mental arsenal. On a bad day, this unnamed foe is determined and makes each battle feel like a full-fledged war.
I’m talking about mental health. About panic and anxiety, specifically. Let me add a quick caveat: everyone can experience anxiety, panic, stress, depression, and mental illness differently. How I feel my anxiety may not be the same way you experience it. And so, the lessons and encouragement below are rooted in my own personal journey and are shared with the hope that you look in the mirror feeling slightly more empowered.
My own experience with anxiety and depression has taught me that one of the hardest parts of the journey can be naming the feeling and asking for help.
Rewinding a decade or two, it is fairly self-evident that I was always been nervous even as a child. I always fixated on “what ifs” and replayed variants of catastrophic hypotheticals that live in the shadows of my mind. Anxiety has been a part of my life for so long, that I actually didn’t notice when it started driving my daily actions. When I finally noticed my endless tears and constant fear, I believed I was simply weak. What’s worse, I truly believe I should have been able to handle it by myself.
It. I kept calling my anxiety “It,” which was fitting in a macabre way, since naming my feelings scared me like Pennywise scared the young kids in that sleepy suburb. If it remained nameless, it wasn’t real. But, of course, you and I both know that isn’t true.
Asking for help with anxiety and mild depression has been the most immediately liberating part of my mental health journey. Naming my struggle didn’t make it real, though avoiding the name as if it were Voldemort did give it some extra artificial power. I was liberated to be more introspective without fear that I was weak, wrong, or alone. Mental illness is not taboo, and it doesn’t make you weak. Naming your struggle is the first step in reclaiming your power and getting even better help.
Please, my friends, love yourself, honor yourself, and forgive yourself. There is only one of you, and we must do all we can to protect you at all costs.
Authentically,
Cate