By Aznet //
Most people write off a person’s behaviour as a personality trait, unconnected from the brain, or perceived thoughts and feelings. My problems arose when what I perceived wasn’t real, but I acted on them because I thought they were. That’s one way the brain can deceive you.
I let a mental disorder hold me hostage for a very long time. For a decade, I experienced my brain sabotaging my life and body, and tried to figure out the hot mess which is my illness, on my own. I’ve tried quite a few ways to get back on my feet after a relapse; most didn’t work very well at all.
I’ve tried “the hard reset”: getting a new phone number, bank account, email address, shutting down my business; basically changing everything about me on the outside. Why such drastic measures? I was terrified, paranoid and ashamed of what I might have done when I was ill, my behaviours which I had no memory of. The uncertainty of not knowing what I did haunted me, and in my mind I was already judged by friends and acquaintances.
I have tried hiding. It’s a common strategy, and I know my peers do that because we feel lost or ashamed.
Sometimes, the stigma of mental illness isn’t just something the world does to us, but what we also do to ourselves.
I hid in my bedroom for five years with depression as my constant bedfellow. I’m not sure now what happened, because my memories were flotsam. Luckily enough, I was warded after this “hiding” episode and it was during this hospitalisation that I received medical and social assistance. I was put on the path to recovery.
One of the most crucial things I’ve lost to this illness is time.
When I came out of the institution, my friends had gotten married, had kids, forged awesome careers, and were “adulting” well. Many times I looked in the mirror and I expected to see myself at a certain age, but I was always much, much older.
My memories are fractured across years. I cringe when I receive yet another questioning look or when I miss a piece of my own life puzzle. I never know how to respond to a comment like, “you were there when this happened, don’t you remember?”
With all that I’ve lost, I’ve gained too.
Empathy is a powerful heart tool and the new relationships I’ve made are very precious. I learn everyday about empowerment and try to help my peers let go of shame, remember who they are, without and despite their illness, and walk their paths of recovery.
Aznet is currently hooked on iced milk tea. She collects enamel pins, dolls and is forever young at heart. She has written another Tapestry story here.
Read more of our Tapestry Stories here.
Follow us on Instagram!
Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels