I finished Jenny Lawson's brilliant upcoming book last night (and you should all get it) and had many thoughts about it and mental illness. I don't read a lot of non-fiction about mental illness because...why would I? Usually I look at these books and know that they can't tell me anything new. They'll either try to help me fix problems or tell me it'll be okay and that's not what I need. But Jenny Lawson is in the trenches and she gets it and she finds a way to make a lot of it funny. THAT'S what I need.
However, whenever I read anything about mental illness, it has me questioning my own. I've never been diagnosed because I've never sought help. I've never actually talked to a professional. But I know what I feel and I know how what I feel compares to what other people feel and it's not the same, because my mental illness is not your mental illness (as Jenny points out. Is it clear enough you should read Jenny's book yet?), but it's similar enough.
But is it enough? Sometimes I read the experiences other people have and wonder if I'm mentally ill enough to actually be considered mentally ill. How fucked up does that sound? But it's true.
I often doubt I'm depressed enough to actually be considered depressed because I'm not depressed all the time. On the other hand, half the time I don't realize I'm in a depressed state until I'm on the other side of it, or at least half way through.
I often wonder if I actually am anxious enough to be considered to have an anxiety disorder. Meanwhile last night I started freaking out about how to get through an airport I don't have to get through for three more months. I don't even have a plane ticket yet. But is that anxiety, or is that just me being an excessive worrier? Is the guilt I drown in for never being perfect and on top of my shit just because I come from a workaholic, Catholic family, or is that more of my anxiety?
I always wonder if I'm enough in other things, too. Am I fat enough to be considered overweight? Science says yet, but when you talk to the body acceptance community, they say no. When I look at my jean size, it says I'm average. Am I active enough to be considered an active person? Am I good enough?
And then I wonder if this constant cycle of thoughts is enough of an indication that I am in fact mentally ill in some capacity.
Then I start worrying about the future. A year from now, I'll (hopefully) be a college graduate. I'll be looking for a job in publishing because that's been my life plan for a good five years now. But what if I can't get a job quick enough? I've seen the struggles my friends go through and am I really any more qualified than they are? What do I do then?
What do I do when I get the job and then I'm a public face of a company and can't talk about being mentally ill anymore? I can't talk about the way that my anxiety and my depression affect my ability to leave the house or my eating habits or my sleeping habits. But maybe it won't be so bad once I have what I've been striving to get for many years. Or maybe it'll be me, losing the community I had. And in that case, is a dream job worth losing the community I've come to rely on so much? Do I need to start rethinking my plans with one year left of college to manage my mental health?
But am I mentally ill enough that this should really be a concern?
Logically, I know it's silly. I shouldn't compare my mental illness to others because they are not all the same. But there's nothing really logical about how my brain works.
--Julie
