Why It's Important to Talk About Your Mental Health

I have always hated mornings. I felt lazy and far away from motivation when it came to waking up any time before 9 AM. I knew what that felt like. But that morning was different. I stayed in my bed wide awake for four hours staring at my popcorn ceiling. And the morning after that and the morning after that. I started zoning out in every meeting, every conversation and every activity. I loved being photographed but I started feeling an emptiness in myself while posing, like I didn't deserve to be photographed. Everything that I felt good about in myself started vanishing from my memory. I stopped dancing, an activity I have never left in 20 years. I stopped painting my nails, something I loved doing every Saturday. I stopped styling my hair. I stopped shopping for shoes, I stopped shopping altogether. I barely spoke to my parents.

I didn't feel the need to examine any of these changes. I thought it was just a "phase" like I have often heard people say. I stopped smiling. There was a cloud on my face blocking the Sun. There was darkness. What did make me think was this one incident, when my coworker collapsed in front of me and I froze. I did not move. I felt cold and I could not hear anything. I could not bring myself to move. She was the one hospitalized but I needed the doctor. I realized I was letting something consume me to an extent. I was "apathetic" to life around. What if it was my mother who collapsed? Would I let her get hurt? I needed to make a change or at least know what was happening inside my head. We don't ever talk about these things. I don't even know what to say to someone. But I had to do something about it. My family would not survive this "loss" and I had to make a move before I even had the thoughts of suicide.

Thanks to the internet, everything is at our disposal. Whether we want to die or whether we want to live, we have options to help us. I chose the latter. I looked up a psychotherapist. At that time, I did not know what a psychotherapist was or how he/she was different from a psychologist. I went unwillingly. I kept telling myself that someone kidnapped my parents and held them captive and that I had to get through this session to have them freed. That was the only way I could convince myself. Sounds silly, isn't it? You gotta do what you gotta do. I distinctly remember my first session. Dr. Gilchrist asked me to go back to the last time I felt happy, peaceful and enthusiastic. To my surprise, I went back five years in time. He made me list everything that bothered me since that last time. I remember listing five things and how the last one really broke my spirit.

He was more than my Doctor. He had written down actual sentences for me to speak to others and to myself. I was diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and High Functioning Depression. I had no idea what those were. When I spoke to my parents about it, they had no idea either. They were in denial and it took them several days to come to terms with it. None of my friends believed me when I spoke about it. My pain was invalidated. They all thought I was seeking attention. I was but this time, some Medical and Psychological attention. After a year of weekly sessions, I felt normal again. I repaired a number of relationships, I realized where I had to draw lines, I understood the importance of communication and preciseness of it.

A lot of us keep mum when it comes to mental health because we are scared no one will believe us. Unfortunately, there is very little awareness about various mental disorders and their symptoms. Even with technological advancement, we remain psychologically and emotionally "disabled" because we refuse to ask for help. It is easy for someone to "cheer" us up but it is not easy for them to look through the layers of emotion we so carefully fabricate.

Get up, speak up and ask for help. At the end of the day, it is between you and your peace.