Mental Health Is Something We Do – Every Day

May was mental health awareness month, so I’m a bit behind the times in writing about it. But, hey! Mental health matters all year round! It’s also something that gets talked about a lot in somewhat vague and empty ways, too often conflated with mental illness. Spoiler: they’re not the same thing.

Everyone – and I do mean everyone – needs to tend to their mental health. We all fall on a spectrum of mentally healthy or unhealthy regardless of whether we add mental illness into the mix. Dipping into the unhealthy end of the mental health spectrum doesn’t mean you’re in jeopardy of going off the deep end or even in need of a diagnosis. Rather, poor mental health looks like burnout, languishing, stress-related physical ailments, feeling overwhelmed all the time, lashing out, being hypercritical of others, etc. Many, many people who don’t have any diagnoses nevertheless fail to take care of their mental health, and the consequences are widespread in contemporary culture.

If you’ve got a brain, your mental health is something that requires maintenance. Plain and simple. Your car needs tune ups, your body needs check ups, and your brain needs taking care of – we just tend to forget that because “everything is fine.” And because of the pervasive (and ill informed) stigmas associated with mental illness, therapy, and the need for self care.

Just like physical fitness, our mental health is contingent on the activities and beliefs and practices we engage in. Just like obesity is running rampant in American culture, so, too, are the consequences of a polarized, socially isolated, grind culture society. Regardless of whether your brain functions “normally” on its own, your mental health is something you have to actively take care of – it’s just a matter of figuring out what that looks like for you.

Mental Illness (or Neurodiversity) Is Something We Have

Unlike mental health, which is something we do, mental illness is something we have. Just like physical illness, we either have it or we don’t. There are things we can do to alleviate symptoms, to improve our condition, to make things better/easier/smoother for our daily existence – but mental illness is beyond our control. It’s also a contributing factor to our mental health, but the two things are not the same. And that’s an important distinction.

[Note: I actively dislike the term “mental illness.” It has a negative connotation that, I think, contributes to the stigma around psychiatric diagnoses. I prefer terms like: neurodivergent, neurodiverse, and neurotypical/neuro-atypical. From a technical standpoint, I’m misusing those terms since they only apply to a narrow range of diagnoses such as autism, ADHD, and dyslexia. But, frankly, it feels pretty shitty to think of myself as having “mental illness,” and thinking of myself as neurodivergent feels a hell of a lot better. So, fuck it, I’m going to use the terms I prefer.]

If you’ve got a neurotypical brain, kudos! That means that, in general, you aren’t fighting an uphill battle when it comes to your mental health. Your noggin’ may not be the best place to hang out all the time, but your wiring is such that bouncing back, moving forward, staying upbeat, or achieving your goals follow a more straightforward trajectory.

Neurodiversity, on the other hand, means that a brain is wired somewhat differently than what’s typically considered the norm. And since the world is built on the assumption of the “norm,” it’s a world that those of us with neuro-atypical brains have to work a bit (or a lot) harder to exist in well. When we’re striving to take care of our mental health, we’re just pulling more weight than folks with “normal” brains.

Thankfully, it seems like there’s more and more conversation happening around neurodiversity. There’s a growing cultural conversation around what it means for people to have clinical depression, to have OCD, to have anxiety, to have mood disorders, eating disorders, phobias and a whole spectrum of struggles centered in the brain. So, at least we’re getting the opportunity to stop feeling so ashamed on top of it all.

The key take-away, though, is that all of these diagnoses are things we’re pretty much stuck with. For whatever cosmic reason, we got to show up in this life with a brain that functions differently. And that’s not our fault. It’s not a moral failing. It’s not anything we did or asked for or can fundamentally change. We either have mental illness or we don’t. 

But! Regardless of whether we’ve got brains that make it harder to function in a world built for different brains, our mental health is still our responsibility. It’s something we have to do on a daily basis. It’s just something we just might have to work a little (or more likely a lot) harder to maintain. Which is some unfair bullshit, but it’s a reality that we have to learn to cope with.

Remembering It’s Not Our Fault

The other day, I was having a bit of a meltdown. What that means/looks like for me is: an inability to focus, sporadic weepiness, a sense of helplessness, and a thick layer of frustration around not being able to fix it/figure it out/get my shit together and just do the things that needed doing that day. It fucking sucked. And it’s not an especially uncommon occurrence for me. 

When I’m in it, though, I can spiral out around trying to figure out why it’s happening now, or what triggered it, or what am I doing wrong?!? 

Spoiler: nothing. I’m not doing anything wrong. But I can’t always see that when I’m in it.

A lot of times, struggles are compounded by meta-feelings – the feelings about the feelings. On some level I “know” the thing that triggered me or the belief that’s sucking me under is inaccurate and unhelpful, but I can’t do anything about it. I get stuck in the emotional sinkhole of “not good enough,” or “it’s my fault,” or “it’s never going to get better.” Then, in addition to the already heavy burden of those shitty thoughts, I get frustrated with myself for having the shitty thoughts/feelings to begin with or not being able to get rid of them, and it all just spirals. 

Thankfully, my best friend called, held space for my big feelings and confusion, and reminded me that emotional dysregulation and the subsequent struggle with focus are – ding, ding, ding! – factors for people with ADHD and/or CPTSD, both of which are aspects of my neurodiversity. 

Taking Care of What We Can

Getting that reminder took the pressure off. It helped me calm down enough to remember and say to myself: “Oh, it’s not my fault! I’m NOT doing anything wrong! This is just an aspect of being me that happens sometimes. It’s not something I have control over, and it’s not something that I have to (or even can) ‘fix.’ Phew!”

So, I had a good cry. I stopped trying to push through the work that was decidedly not going to happen that day. I stopped fighting the feelings and just felt heavy/sad/tired while moving my body in ways that felt doable. I went outside, painted my garage, listened to an audiobook, and gave up on trying to figure it out any further. Then I went to bed early, got a good night’s sleep, and woke up feeling differently.

And that’s the ride of mental health paired with mental illness. It’s the uphill trudge of remembering that feelings aren’t facts, they aren’t forever, and that each day is a new opportunity to take care of myself in whatever way I need.