Not long after Chester Bennington--lead singer of Linkin Park--died, I listened to a podcast about his struggle with mental illness. He compared it to walking alone, in the dark, through a really bad neighbourhood. As the words lingered in the air, I could feel my throat tighten and a single tear form in the corner of my eye.
I thought about that interview while I sat in my doctor’s office—with a flood of tears streaming down my face--begging for help that I hadn’t recognized that I needed.
I know that bad neighbourhood all too well. I’ve been there many times. And though I’m skirting that place right now, it’s possible that I will always have to work harder than others to not veer in that direction.
Into the darkness. Into the fear. Into the isolation of it all.
And part of me still struggles to write about it.
Because I know what people think when they hear the word ‘anxiety’.
I know what it’s like to have someone assume that you’re just too “emotional” or “fragile” or “sensitive”.
I know what it’s like to have someone question your strength, your resilience, your mental stability.
I know what it’s like to be told to just “chill out”, “settle down”, “not worry so much” or “take a walk”…as though that’s an option that had never been considered before.
I know what’s it’s like for people to have no idea how much you’re actually suffering.
I know what’s it’s like to be held hostage by something that you can’t explain while being surrounded by people who don’t understand.
I know what it’s like.
And I did choose to keep it to myself.
Literally. For years.
Because, honestly, I don’t like talking about it.
I don’t like talking about how too many people together in a room makes me nervous. I don’t like talking about the irrational irritability and the tears that threaten to drown me.
I don’t like discussing what it’s like to lose your memory or your peripheral vision or your sense of safety, or my inability to problem solve in the midst of a panic attack.
I don’t like sharing about the guilt that I carry for the people who love me and have to live with this.
I don’t like explaining to a person how trauma gets stored in the form of seemingly irrational but nonetheless crippling fear.
I really don’t like talking about any of these things.
Because it’s terrifying and painful and makes something inside of me physically ache just looking at the words.
But we need to.
Please hear me again; we need to.
We need to talk about what that dark neighbourhood looks like and feels like and sounds like. There is someone else out there walking in their own dark neighbourhood. Because someone needs to know what anxiety and depression is really like for a person living through it. We don’t need to walk through life alone.
And because the only way out of shame and fear and guilt...is to stop hiding in a corner with it.
There is so much to be said about the need to recognize, nurture and fight for your mental health. Especially now.
I have spent my entire adult life walking in and out of these neighbourhoods. Most of the time, it’s a brief visit after taking a wrong turn. A few times, I’ve wandered alone and lost for much longer than I would have liked.
But each and every time, the only thing that helped me find my way out…was following the sound of a voice.
Not a guiding light or a set of arrows or a sequence of actions; it was a voice.
It was the voice of a friend sharing their own experience. It was the voice of a friend who said “I’ll go with you”. It was the voice of a doctor sending for help. It was the voice of a loved one telling me that they missed me. It is the voice my mom couldn’t find.
And then....it was my own voice. Sometimes, it was a quiet whisper of desperation and other times, it was a final cry of strength.
Either way, it was the sound of love fighting back.
We need to talk about it. We need more voices.
Friends, let’s reach out. Let’s check in. Let’s call out.
Let’s fight back.
And if you are wandering in this dark and scary place right now, follow the voice that leads you home. Whatever that voice may be.
Especially if it’s your own.
