This newsletter is being handed over to Liz, on the central team, with her reflections this mental health awareness week...
Mental health awareness week brings up a lot of feelings for me. One of the immediate things being that I don't need a week to be aware of my mental health. I’m aware of it every week and every day, in fact I don’t think it would be a stretch to say there are days I’m aware of it every minute.
I was diagnosed with bipolar spectrum disorder late last year after nearly 30 years of struggling with my mental health. For the last 5 months I’ve been on a journey of trying medication, going back to therapy, feeling better, feeling worse, trying to juggle my brain, my work, my studying, being a mum, life in general. It’s a lot. And I’ve not got it worked out yet. But I know I’m not alone, a lot of people are hurting, and you don’t need a diagnosis to prove it. This year’s theme for MHA week is anxiety. It’s a word used so much that it can get ignored and played down but it’s a real thing, can be crippling for those experiencing it and it's everywhere.
When my 10 year old daughter goes back to school for a new term, there are always tears. She can’t put her finger on why, I expect it’s the thought of being around people again, having to put back on your school persona (I remember this being exhausting), having to leave the safety of your comfortable home bubble. But it’s anxiety of some sort of another. My immediate instinct is to tell her to stop being silly, wipe her tears away and get herself to school before she’s late. And I’m ashamed to say I’ve done exactly that a few times. This is the problem – even I, with my experience of anxiety, depression, whatever you want to call it, try and brush it under the carpet, want her to ‘get over it’ and ‘get on with it’.
What she really needs are my open arms to cry into. To be allowed to feel what she feels and express it in whatever form she needs to. It won’t fix the problem but maybe it doesn’t need to be fixed. She doesn’t need fixing. She needs love.
When my daughter feels something, it spills out without any censoring - her anxiety, all of her feelings, are written all over her face. But as adults we often mask how we are really feeling to avoid looking incapable, stupid, needy…. When we’re asked how we’re doing we automatically answer ‘everything’s fine’ or ‘I’m ok’. And sometimes the easiest thing to do is take that response on face value and move on.
As someone who is learning to open up to people close to me, I know for a fact that sometimes ‘I’m ok’ actually means I need some open arms to cry into, just like my daughter on the first day of each term.
Next time a friend or family member says ‘I’m ok’, maybe dig a little deeper, just in case. And if someone asks how you are, don’t be afraid to tell them. Life is hard and we need each other.
Liz x