In the spirit of World Mental Health Day, I want to finally address an issue that I've constantly brushed off for the past couple of years.
I've been struggling with something that I can't quite put a name to. If you haven't noticed, for years, I've been using the terms "anxiety" or "depression" loosely in my previous posts without ever having myself properly diagnosed by a medical professional—and that's not right. You shouldn't do that.
I'm completely aware of the danger of not getting a proper diagnosis, and it's not like I can't get some help. I should've been able to go see a mental health practitioner. After all, I'm lucky enough to have access to healthcare, and I do have enough savings to afford the kind of help that I need. So, what's stopping me?
For the longest time, I blamed my trust issue. I thought that I simply hadn't found anyone trustworthy enough to completely open up to in an all-business, doctor-patient relationship. However, I realized that I don't have the same problem when it comes to general practitioners, dentists, or let's say, dermatologists. What makes a therapist so different?
Am I afraid of being labeled? Is that the root cause of my reluctance? All I want is to figure out what's going on inside my head, so being labeled is actually something that I look forward to. I want to be able to address my issue with the proper term. I want to know if there really is an issue. So, the judgmental eyes of society are the least of my concern.
If the problem wasn't something external, there's only one more place to search, and that is within. If I really wanted to get help; if I knew how much it would benefit me as an individual; if I wasn't afraid of the stigma, why didn't I just go? No one's telling me not to—and that's exactly when it hit me.
I've been the one sabotaging myself. I've been the one rationalizing my choices and convincing myself that I don't need that help. I've been the one telling myself that things will eventually get better when they really don't. I've been the one trying to fix things when in fact, I really don't know what I'm doing.
Long story short, I am the problem.
Now that I realized what I've done, I want to reflect on my own behavior and tendencies. I want to understand the way I sabotage myself so I can break the cycle. At some point, this has to stop. So, let's dive into some of the things that I notice, which I hope can help anyone reading this to see if you, yourself, are struggling with the same thing.
I ignore my problem because people are having it harder.
Growing up, I wasn't familiar with the concept of acknowledging my hardships. Whenever I had a problem, I was always told to look around and see how much harder people had it. I've never experienced any traumatic past events like the death of a beloved one, terrible accidents, or any kind of physical abuse. I don't think I have any right to complain when there are people out there who survive things that are 100 times worse.
I learned to compare and, therefore, belittle the importance of my own history. If the story wasn't grand enough, it wasn't worth telling. If the feeling wasn't painful enough, it wasn't worth sharing. If what happened wasn't tragic, it was nothing. I thought it was the right thing to do, but really, all I did was telling myself that my feelings were not valid.
In a way, I'm afraid of not being taken seriously. What if I decided to share with the world, and all they had to say was, "That's it?" I'd rather take my problem to the grave than getting the cold shoulder from people who were supposed to listen. This mental state prevents me from reaching out to those who are probably more than willing to help.
I perceive things in extremes.
When we talk about mental health issues, we tend to focus on the episodes; the moment everything goes wrong. Popular culture, for example, tends to depict people with depression as being emotional 24/7 with their life literally falling apart, when in reality, there are people with high-functioning depression who get their act together, lead a successful life, but are still depressed nonetheless.
Seeing a ray of light in darkness doesn't change the fact that it's dark. Seeing a ray of light during a storm doesn't change the fact there's a storm. Sometimes, we tend to focus on small things that stand out and fail to see the bigger pictures.
As a result, I began to think the fact that I was still capable of having some good days meant whatever problem I was struggling with was not serious. I began to dismiss my own feelings and ignore what might have been the symptoms of a real mental problem. I started to believe that I was simply ungrateful.
I always come prepared. I do my research before doing anything because I hate the idea of not knowing what I'm getting myself into. On top of that, I'm kind of picky. So, when I seek help, I want to make sure that it will actually work; that I actually trust the right person.
For some reason, I came to the conclusion that seeing a therapist would be pointless because they would only tell me everything that I already know. It's an arrogant thought, I know, but I don't think I was in the right state of mind when I did my research anyway.
I deliberately dismissed the fact that mental health professionals are equipped with the knowledge to do a proper assessment of my problem—if there's any. I based my assumption on people's experiences and testimonies, but I forgot that I didn't know the full story. I wasn't there to witness, let alone experience what they went through.
Guess what I do. I trick my brain into thinking that everything will pass using short-term solutions that barely do anything in reality. I know too well that I tend to get hyper-fixated, so I choose to distract myself. I'd probably feel better with some music. I'd probably feel better when I buy this. I'd probably feel better if I just sweat it out.
Did it work? Maybe. Did it solve anything? Not really.
I rely on my biased, personal judgment.
Sometimes, you can't trust anyone but yourself, but there are times when you really should learn to trust people and let things happen. I found the latter easier said than done, though. The reason? There's a thing called judgment bias, which causes us to selectively choose an argument that supports our belief and reject what doesn't.
Now, this will get even worse when you have nobody to talk to; when you are the only person in the room doing all the thinking and reasoning. Without any second, third, fourth opinion, you really are just tricking yourself into thinking that you're right. Of course, you are. There's no one to argue with. You'll begin justifying your own thoughts.
So, when I figured that I could still work productively, make and laugh at the most ridiculous jokes, and function like a normal human being, I began to think that I had no reason to have any mental problem. What I really did, however, was avoiding every chance to fix my issues like a real coward.
Now that I've put it into words, I can see why I keep sabotaging myself and look for anything but proper help. It's easier to ignore than to face your inner demons. If you share a similar tendency or find yourself agreeing with the four points above, you might be wondering what to do next. So, I'm going to end this essay by giving us some homework.
Our first homework would be coming to terms with ourselves. We need to understand that just because we don't discuss the things that we refuse to discuss, it doesn't mean they aren't real. We need that help and we really need to talk about it.
The next step would be reaching out to a mental health professional. It's definitely not going to be easy. This time, however, we shouldn't treat the smallest mishaps in the process as a hint not to go. We should stop making excuses and put in an actual effort to get help.
Even better, we probably need to learn how to counter-sabotage ourselves. What better way to do it than to use your own tricks against yourself?
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