It’s been a while since I’ve added a new blog post. People might say that it’s hard to keep a following when I’m not consistent. That’s true. It’s also true that I’ve been so busy with my day job that by the time I get home from work, I truly just want to stare at the wall until it’s time for bed. My brain space is occupied with the topics of the day and the list for tomorrow so I have very little capacity for much else. It’s relatable, right?
It’s hard to believe that it’s already Christmas again. I say “again” in my head like “a gain.” Now, you will too. Anywho, I guess when I was younger it felt like time crept by and I would never get to the fantastic land of adulthood. Now that I’m here, time flies by like a laser flashing through the sky. I had all sorts of good intentions for Christmas gifts. I had also planned a beautiful Grinch-themed bulletin board at work. Sadly, I miscalculated that when December 1st hits the calendar, the next day is December 24. Or, so it seems.
I have some jalapeno peppers on my kitchen counter and it’s in my plans today to make cranberry pepper jelly for holiday gifts. I also bought some jalapenos and cranberries a few weeks back to make some more jelly. Sadly, the peppers shriveled and the cranberries mysteriously busted their bag and ended up all over my kitchen floor. Have you ever chased a full bag of fresh cranberries when you’re dog-tired and they just won’t sweep in a straight line to the dust pan? No? I don’t recommend it, either. But, there is something relatable about having something unexpected happen. Sometimes, unexpected is bad and sometimes, unexpected is good. Regardless, we can’t schedule it. Perhaps we can anticipate some things, like the fact that I can’t keep a bag of cranberries forever and not expect something dastardly to occur.
Then, sometimes, we can’t anticipate something bad happening like my son’s brakes kicking the bucket on his truck a week before Christmas. When he called and said they were shaking and making a weird noise, there was no debate that they had to be fixed. It was a normal human reaction to call the repair shop and get it in there before he is unable to stop the vehicle at an intersection. It’s relatable that the timing sucks and it’s also relatable that it’s necessary to fix.
But, what about when that happens to us? What about when we need to be fixed? Physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally fixed. This is definitely relatable but sometimes harder for us to process. It’s harder for us to make the first step. I’ve been walking around with heel pain for a year. A whole, entire year. I kept hoping that it would get better on its own. Magical healing is apparently what I expected. But, it didn’t happen. The doctor ordered some physical therapy and a steroid pack. I feel like I’m on the slow road to recovery but I wonder what would have happened had I not waited an entire year to get it fixed.
Matters of the heart, mind, and soul are even harder to repair the longer we wait to fix them. Sometimes, we let those things fester until they become a solidified problem that is very difficult to overcome. Then, sprinkle in the stigma of mental healthcare and bam, it’s a recipe for disaster. I’ve been on the sidelines of helping several friends to get mental healthcare recently and, as rewarding as that has been for me, it’s heartbreaking to think of just this handful of people having such fear about getting help. Life is hard enough. We have zero clues about the baggage that the average human is toting in their emotional warehouse. Then, as a society, we’ve made it virtually impossible to get mental healthcare without sometimes being labeled as crazy.
So what happens? Usually, one of three things occur. People either seek counseling or assistance in a shroud of secrecy, turn to some activity or substance that is a clear path to spiraling down, or do nothing. Why do we have to be ashamed of asking for help? The very fact that people need help is very relatable. We’ve all gone through something in our lives with a varying degree of severity that has caused us to struggle. Our struggle bus may no where near compare to someone else’s struggle bus, but it’s struggle all the same. Have we not once thought that the significant mental health crisis in this country could be caused by how we approach treatment?
Some health insurance plans don’t even cover mental health benefits. They would rather you treat your high cholesterol but heaven forbid we protect the one organ of the body that can cause major damage to its host or others. Even if your insurance covers treatment, sometimes it isn’t easy finding providers that accept the benefit or who make it easy to attend a session. Then, if someone needs hospitalization or some other kind of treatment, the journey to get that approved is hard to navigate.
I think sometimes people assume that we all have equal means to get mental healthcare. We don’t even have equal means to obtain basic healthcare, mental healthcare is a luxury for many. Counselors don’t do that for free. Psychiatrists don’t go to medical school and work just as hard as their physical healthcare peers as a charity service. Hospitals that care for the mind aren’t in it for the satisfaction of helping others. It takes really good insurance or cold hard cash to get the help that people need. That’s if you can get an individual over the stigma of getting help or the fear of being placed in a padded room. Lobotomies went out of fashion for a reason. They weren’t effective, for one, and they had lasting consequences for those who lived through it. The method and approach to mental illness may have changed, but the effectiveness still needs work.
I have been very blessed in my life. I don’t have childhood trauma. I have never had something sickening happen to me. I’ve not been physically abused. I have had a strong faith, a strong group of friends, and I’ve adopted the mantra that what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. But, I haven’t been immune to the struggle. Hard times are never measured by the severity in reality. They are measured by the severity in our minds. What may be severe to me may be a piece of cake for someone else, and vice versa. It’s all relatable, even if we’re experiencing it at varying levels. So why should getting the help someone needs be so difficult?
I wish I had the answers. I wish I had a cape and a magic wand to fix all of the medical injustices in the world. But, I don’t. What I have is the heart and the desire to help any of those in need. That’s the kind of thing that should be contagious. We should all stop looking at mental health through the lens of “they can do better.” Anxiety isn’t a choice. Depression isn’t a choice. Addiction isn’t a choice. We can all make better choices until we can’t. The choice I beg of you today is to not turn your backs on people when they need you the most. I’m not advocating that you become a martyr, but if you have the means to help someone do it. If you have the time to listen to someone, do it. If you have the availability to drive someone across the country to get into a facility to treat their illness, do it. After all, whether we admit it or not, it’s all relatable.
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