I'm Fine - Musings on Mental Health

I unfortunately have to preface this with a disclaimer: I have what some would call a warped sense of humour that I use in an attempt to shine light on exceptionally serious, dark, and sensitive topics. Hence, my apologies if anything written offends anyone, that is not my intention. Mental health is such a tricky subject to talk about mainly due to the fact that for ages it has been a taboo subject – indeed, a couple decades ago in England, people with even the mildest forms of mental instability were locked up in institutions, separated from the public, and given ‘treatments’ akin to torture. Mental health issues were, and are, seen as shameful. As weaknesses. As failures. Thankfully, in recent years there has been a loosening of these connotations, but I believe the dialogue needs to go further. In our field of conservation there is no shortage of negativity: we are haemorrhaging species, we are frying our planet, we are electing ignorant politicians into power, we are fighting against capitalistic society, and we are losing. But what I’m going to talk about goes beyond conservation or academia or ‘first world problems’; what I’m addressing is a human issue.

I was 16 when I had my first panic attack. I curled up as tiny as I could, crammed myself into the corner of my bed, and wished myself to disappear. A week later I was given the destructive diagnosis of both anxiety and depression. This wicked combination is almost comical: you’re not productive because you’re depressed, which in turn ignites the anxiety, crippling you with thoughts of guilt, worthlessness, and isolation, feeding the depression and making you even less productive! My catch is that despite this, I remain high-functioning. I’ve always been a top student, avid volunteer, or hard-working employee (usually juggling multiple). Somehow, this makes my mental pitfalls impossible for the outside world to understand. It seems that unless someone is slashing their wrists or hearing voices, it surely can’t be that bad - you can just get over it. This by no means diminishes what those suffering from such conditions are going through, but like everything; there is complexity. Shades of grey. A spectrum. From that first diagnosis my mental health has gone through cycles of dancing through life and climbing out of the blackholes I invariably fall in. Meanwhile, it remained invisible, I struggled in silence, and it was my own doing.

Now, I am excited about my project. There is a demand for this research, my supervisors are treasures, and I know it will open doors for me. And yet. There is a pile of books in front of me, a wealth of information, curiosity, a plan… but no motivation. I don’t feel stress or worry, which is not normal for me. Then I noticed that in general all my feelings were muted. I wasn’t feeling anything – happiness, sadness, shame, pride, anger, regret. Just nothing. I booked into the university counselling services and started my coping strategies that have helped me in the past. I am finally starting to crawl out of the hole but this one is deeper than any I have fallen in before. In many ways I am lucky: I’ve never relied on medication (except for half a year during a toxic relationship), I have a wonderfully supportive network, and I am resilient by nature. In South Africa we have a mentality similar to the British “keep calm and carry on” except ours is that we’ll “make a plan”. The gist is, whatever comes our way, we’ll deal with it. Maybe not elegantly or effectively, but we will deal with it. This mentality has driven me through most of my life, but during this recent depressive spell I’ve started to understand that it isn’t going to be enough. What I really need to learn is to be gentle with myself.

I started this piece by acknowledging that the relationship between society and mental health is improving. From my own experience and from talking to others, there seems to be a positive movement from companies, organisations, universities, and even health services towards acknowledging mental health and taking it more seriously. Of course, there is a long way to go and it needs to be encouraged, but I would argue that our relationship with our own mental health is just as important. I found myself praising friends for how strong and brave they are for battling their demons, but I never said that to myself. I never gave myself a break. I constantly berated myself for not having my ducks in a row, for not doing enough, for being ‘lazy’. If we can’t be honest with ourselves, if we can’t reach out to ourselves and offer help, if we can’t let go of our own prejudices and love ourselves enough to use the help offered, what’s the point? We need to be gentler when we think about our ‘self’. As for my self, I will always live with these mental monsters; most days I win but some days I don’t. And that’s OK, I believe in me.

Cassy Flint