When it comes to physical illnesses - the flu, diabetes, cancer - it is really easy to seek help. Even when a doctor has prescribed you something, chances are that friends will offer to bring by soup of embrace you in a caring hug. People who are sick become the center of conversations as we all talk about their absence and pray for their health.
Why, then, is it so different of the illness is one of the mind and not the body? I have watched victims of anxiety, nervous in the dark hours of the night, still their tremors when the sun come up. I have heard the whispers of friends suffering from depression begging me not to tell anyone. I have sat beside friends suffering from eating disorders as they cried and tried to convince both of us they were fine. I have seen the stress and misery of keeping their illness a secret swallow people I care about, forcing them deeper down the throat of their own sickness. And, I have watched family members comforted by hugs and flowers and baked goods when cancer struck, cracked lips form a smile at the sight of a note from an old but concerned friend.
Mental illnesses, like their physical counterparts, are not the fault of the patient. They are flaws in chemistry, not character and yet we are still terrified to admit that we might be suffering.
It is understandable, really, that we all do this. Those who suffer from depression, eating disorders, anxiety, obsessive compulsive, ect are ostracized in our society. Any girl with cuts on her wrists is written off as "moody" and told to "grow up and get over it." Suicide is considered selfish and those who only eat the right side of potato chips are laughed at or accused of seeking attention. So, we hide our discontent and our insecurity and go to terrifyingly great risks to keep out scars and our protruding rib bones a secret.The mentally ill are silenced, told that what they are feeling is not okay.
But the truth is that being sick is a normal human response to living. Just as some are more prone to certain types of cancers or allergies, mental disorders can be genetic and unavoidable. Sometimes, like a common cold, we just catch it. Many mental disorders are a response to the environment the patient resides in. Insecurity, sadness, fear, and sickness are completely natural and have existed for as long as happiness or bliss or any of the "good" emotions.
So, why is it still so hard for us to admit that we might be mentally ill? Why can't we just accept the fact and seek the treatment that any sick person deserves? Why can't do we, when we see a suffering friend, turn the other cheek and cower from being the one to speak up for them?There is nothing wrong with being sick. But there is something very wrong and very dangerous with pretending like we are not.
I am not suggesting that those who suffer from mental disorders should completely content with their state. Obviously every human being deserves to live a happy and healthy life and there are ways for even the saddest minds to get there. Just as a cancer patient would, he must first accept the status of where he stands and not be afraid to share that place with others. Being sick is nothing to be embarrassed about but is something to work to combat.
If you don't believe me on this, please consider that that I was too scared to include any names in this post. Consider the vagueness of every example given. Consider that I am really terrified to what my friends will think of me once they read this. Consider that, originally, I thought I would expand this thought into a criticism for my Honors Seminar in Writing class, but a disclaimer attached to all of our rubrics states that if any written content suggests that any student may be harming himself or someone else, the teacher is required to notify child services. The fact that I cannot even express this opinion without fear of being ostracized or questioned for it proves that it is valid. And that sucks, yo. It really makes me hate the man.
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