My Life with Mental Illness

I’ve said before, I’ll say it again and again: I am lucky. Of course I am. My life is not as bad as the majority of the world, and my mental well-being is not as bad as some in the world. However, while some are quick to disagree, my fight is as crucial as every other fight against mental illness.

The truth is since as early as I can remember I’ve been "shy," which developed into anxiety after the death of a close family member at 12 years old. Then, by age 14, I developed depression. Of course, depression is a feeling, an economic term, and a mental illness. But the mental illness is the one which is most common, yet least treated. My depression would continue to develop until one April morning I decided to get help. I used the unconventional medium of social media to tell all my "friends" and "followers" that I was battling these very hard times. Since that message the support has grown, but the illness has not deteriorated. Recently I hit the bottom again and decided to write this to try and help myself come to terms with it once more.

While it may seem like every other story, mine is ever so slightly different. Rather than fighting silently, only telling select people, and trying to hide it from the world, I decided to tell everyone, enabling me to show myself that people cared and people were willing to help. That has significant importance to a "shy" teenager, feeling like you fit in and that you have friends in every corner.

The depression would get worse whenever something bad would happen: rejection, poor grades, or even just a small argument. The reaction was always worse, however: isolation, illness, and psychological harm. I can’t detail every event that caused an episode, but there were some notable ones—friends will know the moments I mean. In those moments the light at the end of the tunnel would dim, the darkness would overtake me on the motorway of life. People would give me a boost, push me closer to the light, but I would always lose that ground again. That’s what my depression felt like. No matter who helped, how hard the fight was or how long it lasted, I never won. Once, in December 2015, I had a three-hour conversation with a Samaritans phone operator, not because I was going to kill myself, because I wanted someone to hear me talking and not judge me for the personal background I had. That evening my parents heard everything, and they knew for the first time that I had these "issues."

Thankfully, in early 2016 that episode “ended” and I was ready to move forward with new friends who would support me. The depression never disappeared though, and the anxiety would constantly return to make me question who I was and what I was doing still surviving. The summer of 2016 was the next major episode, although it was mainly due to the isolation of a "long" summer—although I made stronger “relationships” with people who are still under-appreciated in my fight. Of course exams bring the stress, but having relieved myself of the pressure of my worst kept secret in April, I felt like the exam stress was merely just the new "normal" in my life.

Throughout the remainder of 2016 and the beginning of 2017, episodes came and went infrequently with no significance—illness and stress were now the norm, fighting it the difficulty. However, the first big test came one year on from my announcement; a simple question, yet one which caused the feeling of grief. "How have you been?" Of course, I’d been better—but my fight was deceiving. I could see a bright light closer than ever, with the darkness seemingly further away than I’d ever seen before. But I had isolated myself; I had reduced myself down to the "shy" figure I had previously represented.

Spring, summer, and autumn 2017 have been three of the best parts of my life. Adventure, pride, accomplishment, friendship, and best of all, happiness. But, as you can guess, winter has been one of the worst. In fact, not all of winter. Just the period since December 15th to today, December 28th. On December 9th and 10th, I did activist training with a mental health charity, YoungMinds. At this training I was inappropriate once; I laughed when someone told me that some people suffer from a mental illness which causes winter to make their mental well-being deteriorate rapidly. The irony. I can only blame myself, however. Of course, depression and anxiety are responsible, but I have allowed my mind to be corrupted by simple things. Words, pictures, drunk moments. These things which are out of my control, yet I still fixate on them. They are the reason it has happened. Not any one individual. It has allowed me to realise one thing: care. Looking after yourself can make you a few things: more confident, more attractive, and healthier. This winter I stopped self-caring to try and help others. I did not realise the mistake I had made until I was staring into space wishing I had done one thing differently in a moment of madness.

That is my experience and my life with anxiety and depression. Hyper focus on tiny details, extreme episodes of poor health and, worst of all, constant isolation. It’s not the same for everyone, but my experience is important if I use it correctly. Of course, that’s not the whole story, but some things must be left out until I am at peace with them—and I am confident those closest to me are at peace with them, too. They include suicide and saving someone else. The greatest promise I can make to everyone, whether the audience is just myself or every person in the world, is that I will use my experience to ensure something happens. I will always try to raise money and awareness for mental health organisations and charities who work with them. I am a young male who is open and honest about what has happened, an unfortunate rarity. I will use that to help push forward the cause.

Of course, I must do some appreciation. I must thank everyone who has helped me. Thank you to my tennis club and the people there; it’s like a second home to me, and you have really helped make it a safe space for me. Thank you to my close friends and family who have been so supportive during my dark periods. Thank you to the people who don’t realise they’ve helped but always do. Thank you to everyone I know—you’ve all helped in some way and I am grateful for it all.

Some people in the world are not nearly as fortunate as I am, but that does not reduce my plight nor make my story any less prevalent. To fight my mental illness is to help others fight theirs. Only by working together in society can we progress the cause.

Important numbers to call if you or anyone else is in need:

Samaritans (UK): 116 123

Suicide Line (US): 1-800-273-8255