To Be Open: From Filipa

I’ve always felt a bit odd. I grew up with lots of friends and a loving family, but somehow, I’ve always felt out of place. Even as a child, I remember never really knowing what was happening, why I was there, what was I supposed to do.
I had these weird dreams about saving people, escaping to new worlds, getting severely injured, facing dear one’s deaths… Things that I’d always overcome with the poise and self-confidence I knew I’d never had.
From as early as I can remember I wanted to work in the social field, and yet, as I went through my early teens, I started to convince myself that I didn’t like people. I still had a lot of friends, I was still loved, and yet I felt it was me against the world. More and more locked myself away, I didn’t understand the world around me, I didn’t fit in with the “normal” behavior, I didn’t share the same interests, I didn’t have the same ambitious, and most of all, I didn’t feel comfortable… anywhere.
Despite being apparently well adjusted, I was constantly feeling disconnected. There was nowhere or no one I could call home. On top of everything I was battling with, there was this strong sense guilt, because I knew I was a privilege kid in many ways, I couldn’t find a “proper” reason to be that miserable, to validate what was going on.
There was this utter sense of loathing, for making everything such a big deal, for making things harder than they had to be, for being unable to take pleasure in “normal” activities, but everything took so much energy… the act alone of going up to someone and say hello, was so draining… everything involving social interactions with anyone above 12, was so draining, nothing came naturally.
I immersed myself in school and extracurricular activities, to avoid being alone with my thoughts, I feel deeply overwhelmed, I didn’t know how to process everything, or anything, really, so instead I tried to avoid it all together.
I cried a lot, alone in my bedroom, night after night. It’s funny because I had this double-sided relationship with the night – on one hand it was where I couldn’t escape my own demons, but on the other hand it was where I could finally relax and just be me.
It was a hard decade… a long, full, hard decade. I tried to run away from my issues, I literally moved to a whole other continent, only to realize that you can escape your own head.
I didn’t know what I was going through then, throughout all those years, I just knew that there were weird things going on with my mind.
It’s weird because sometimes you are so into it, that you lose perspective. I remember the first time I realized I had experienced panic attacks. I wrote a story about it, a fictional version of a situation, a moment, that so often had happened to me, and someone commented what a truthful description of a panic attacks it was. I hit me like a punch in the gut, because somehow in the midst of everything, I had never realized that that’s what it was.
It was similar with depression. I now know I battled depression for over a decade, but it was only when I was doing better, when I gained some distance, that looking from a far, noticing my behavior, my feelings, re-reading my journals, and later on speaking with my therapist, that I realized what I had gone through.
Looking back, I checked all the boxes, the persistent sadness and anxiety, the emptiness I felt inside me, the mood swings for no apparent reason, the inability to sleep, the sense of hopelessness and worthlessness… it was all there, but because I thought I needed a logical reason to be depressed, the thought never occurred me. And because I never shared it with anyone, no-one could help me see it.
I eventually started to make progress. I don’t think I did it in the healthiest or quickest way, because for a long time, for me, it was an individual journey. It wasn’t until much later, when I was already in a better place that I was able to seek professional help. But overtime, little by little I started acquiring tools that helped me cope with… life and myself.
I used to get really mad with myself for being wired this way, for feeling the way I felt, I didn’t want to feel limited by my mental problems, and so I was in a constant fight with myself. With time I found out there can be a middle ground. Just because you accept who you are, it doesn’t mean that you can’t continue working on getting better.
Rationally I’ve always known that a lot of the stories I tell myself and about myself are not true, but now, instead of going directly against it, I try to change the narrative. My brain presents me with a story and I try to present an alternative. You can still push yourself; you just have to retrain your brain to push yourself in a positive way.
So now, instead of raging against it, I try to understand it, I try look at it as a chance to learn why my mind wants to control the future or obsess about the past. You have to learn how your brain works so you can avoid it making bad things, so you can acknowledge what’s happening, without necessarily giving into it.
As I began to understand myself and my mental issues, it became (a tiny bit) easier to navigate life. By slowly accepting who I am, I was able to establish priorities and the things I was willing or not to give up on.
I know I don’t ever want to stop working on my mental issues, and I feel very strongly about never using them as an excuse to hurt or mistreat other people. I suffer from severe anxiety and I never, ever, want to be the reason why someone else feels anxious. And it might happen, because I don’t have control about what other people feel, but I want to behave in a way that minimizes that risk.
I know that I’m never going to be the happiest person in the room, that I’ll never be able to be fully in the moment, or not worry about the future, and that’s okay. I know that I’ll never be comfortable in a crowd, or in a stage, or dealing with the unknown, and that’s okay. I know that I have a very limited amount of time I can be surrounded by people before I start to struggle, and need to recharge, and that’s okay. I’m willing to make adjustments, but I’m also willing to accept my anxiety and the fact that I’m an introvert.
The thing that people don’t always understand about mental health is that it is not a linear process. I was doing well for a few months, and yet, the other day, for no apparent reason I had the beginning of a panic attack. The difference is that this time I saw it coming, and I was able to use the proper tools to stop it before it got too bad. This time I was able to walk it off, at 3 in the morning, on the streets, which I know really worries my mom (which is why I don’t tell her), but the truth is when you’re feeling like this, even dark alleys are safer than your own head.
I’m not at all the kind of person that believes that everything happens for a reason, or that feels blessed when something bad happens because it makes me stronger… No, I think sometimes crap just happens, and I’d much prefer if nothing bad ever happened, but… Since that is out of my control, I do try to make the best of the situation. And when it comes to my mental issues, I know that to a certain degree I’m going to have to cope with them for the rest of my life, and so I want to take something positive out of it.
What I’ve realized, once I started openly talking about this with friends, and hearing stories about other people’s experiences, is that it can be an opportunity for growth. People who face mental issues, and want to get better, are forced to look inside, to discover tools, and tricks, and that results in personal growth. The high sensitivity and empathy also make you better at things like being a friend, or working with children.
It wasn’t until recently that I started intentionally and consciously making an effort to be more open about these issues. Not so much because of the stigma associated with it, but just because I’m an introvert and it’s just part of my personality. However, I started noticing how helpful it was for me to hear people talk about their struggles, how inspiring it was to see people being open about their journeys, to know that you’re actually not that much of a “freak”, that there are “others” out there who have gone or are going through the same things, and so that made me want to give back and share my story too. And in a personal level, I’d would argue that being more open about it brought me closer to my people, who never really had the chance to see the real me, and made me better at my work, because kids can see that adults don’t have it all figured out, that we too need help, and improvements and therapy.