I’ve suffered from depression and anxiety all my life, or at least for as long as I can remember. I’m now 56, and was formally diagnosed probably in my early 40s. I’m still struggling with definitions, causes, and all manner of thoughts about the subject.
The reason I’m writing this post is more of a release, so feel free to ignore it. It probably won’t make much sense outside of my head, and that’s okay with me.
Dinsdale says you’re not that special. I disagree, because while everyone goes through difficulty, be it losing a job, bankruptcy, family tragedies, etc., no one goes through my experience my way, with my thoughts, emotions, reactions, etc. So yes, I am special. But so is everyone else. That’s the paradox: we’re all together, as the same species, but we react to and process experiences (even the same ones) differently.
However, I do agree that if something happened to you once doesn’t give you a free ride forever. Depending on the circumstance(s), you do need to deal with it, and get over it. On the other hand, I, for example, am still dealing with the fallout from decades of toxic work environments (I’ve been describing it as “workplace PTSD,” even if that’s not a recognized diagnosis, it’s an apt description).
You could say the treatment I received at various workplaces was my own fault; that I brought it on myself, and I’d say to a certain extent, that’s true, even if it was unintentional. However, as has been pointed out to me over the years, I can’t be responsible for other people. They react in ways that I can’t control; so if they’re bullies, I can’t stop them. Sure, I can stand up to them, but given my individual temperament, that’s very difficult to do. (Call me weak, a wimp, whatever, I was taught to let it roll off my back and not lower myself to the bully’s level.)
So as far as I can tell, my problem (which simultaneously is and isn’t mine alone) is that it’s a combination of chemical imbalance (or genes, or hormones, or other natural process, since my condition runs in my family) and environment.
It’s not nature vs. nurture, it’s nature and nurture.
The problem I’m seeing with society as a whole is that if I were to compare the status of mental health to breast cancer, we’re in the late 70s to early 80s. (Betty Ford, in the mid-70s, was among the first to talk openly about breast cancer. I remember prior, you could barely say the word “breast,” unless it had to do with chicken. Mental health at the time was still stuck in the Cuckoo’s Nest mentality, as far as the public were concerned. By the 80s, breast cancer was slightly more in the open. Today, of course, it’s not a bit shameful. Compare that to mental health–we’re just beginning to talk about it openly, but it’s still stigmatized. Not as much as just a few years ago, but hopefully, it’ll get better. Too bad it’s taking so long.)
The bottom line is that mental health is complicated, and there’s still much we don’t understand. In some ways, we’re all together, because we share the same brain biology, but at the same time, we are each special snowflakes.
What’s the answer? I don’t know, but I do know there isn’t one–there may be many, but it’s not just one. Discussion and a sincere attempt to understand what someone else is going through is a start. One thing I do know: we have to get away from the “snap out of it” line of thinking (something my wife of 30+ years is just now beginning to understand–so if a person I’ve lived with most of my life is just now starting to understand my condition, it’s even more difficult to people I don’t even know to understand.) But I have to keep trying to get myself to understand it, and share what I’ve learned. Because if I don’t at least try to understand it myself, I may as well give up and give in to the self-destructive thoughts I’ve had over the course of my life. And I know what it would do to my family, even if I didn’t care about myself. I know they care about me.