Fifty Shades of Blue
Hysteria is a greek word that translates to mean 'uterus'. In the past, mental illness in women were blamed on their 'wandering uterus' that was believed to travel around the body, causing problems. Throughout the centuries, there have been wild theories and practices to diagnose and resolve matters of the mind.
But even today, mental health is a taboo. How many of you reading this are ready to seek help for it as swiftly as you would for any physical ailment?
The post today is going to be a little different. You won't find a story here, or any character building, because the themes that I intend to write about exist universally.
How do you explain what the colour blue is to someone who is blind? My attempts at articulating what anxiety feels like remain insatiable. Metaphors are morsels of my own half-singed flesh, fed to the poet inside. Although insatiable, this poet still needs to eat. So here goes…
Imagine a holiday trip to the beach. The warm sun melts on your skin like honey, and the cold water washes over your feet like kisses. You’re still at the beach, and you still see your family enjoying the honey-like sunshine.
But you, you’re not there.
You’re in the water.
The water is choking you, filling up your lungs, stinging your eyes, engulfing you, as you beg. You’re not begging for a breath of air, no, we’re way past that. You, are begging for death because you know even if you get that breath of air, you’re still in the ocean and no one can save you.
Just as you get tired, and give up, you’re back at the shore with your family, feeling crazy.
That’s a panic attack. It is short-lived but leaves you exhausted as you vomit seaweed and salt water.
Anxiety… well, let’s call her a flame. She’s always burning in the background. But now and then, if left unattended a bit too long, becomes a roaring wildfire.
It’s funny, just as I was thinking, I had run fast, run far, from the water; I never once thought I was running head-first towards the scorching fire. Okay, I admit it. I was probably one of the founding members of the Coal Kids Club growing up. You know, when Santa leaves coals in your stocking because you're on the 'naughty list'. But I refuse to believe I deserve coal that big that threatens to burn down my dwelling.
Then I feel rage. I've always been so angry at myself, for not being able to be happy, for not being the best version of myself for those around me. "Spoilt brat." People often tell me that my life is perfect, that they don’t understand why I am being dramatic, and that I should count my blessings. I was born into a family that breathes for me. I have friends who are loyal and who have given me memories and stories to last a lifetime. I have never had any financial struggles. I am accomplished in my own way. But when my house is on fire, how can I stop by the windows to admire rainbows?
She had asked for me to use my words to describe my feelings, and I delivered. I waited for her to finish reading it.
"Wow. I haven't ever come across such powerful depictions of things I work with every day." She said.
"I suppose your training on mental health and issues, however long it might have been, doesn't match my first-hand experience of living them." I realise almost immediately as the words left me, that in my attempt to communicate how isolating it is, I sound like a snob. I quickly add, "But maybe that's why you can help me because you have a bird's eye view of the problem."
"Hmm. I do see what you mean, but I'm not blind to the colour blue." She paused just a second to let that sink in, but doesn't elaborate further.
I change the topic, "What is it about smells that transport you to a different time?"
"The olfactory system is closely linked to the limbic system, smells can trigger memories, and emotions. But why do you ask?"
"As soon as I caught a whiff of that fragrance, I was returned to the same feelings that plague me. The feelings of dread, anxiety, panic and anger." I say, shuddering at the thought.
"I heard you use the word 'plague' to describe your feelings. Am I right to assume that it is because you consider your feelings to be an illness?" I nod, and she continues. "Well, maybe there is a different way we can look at it. Your feelings, whatever they might be, anxiety, fear, and anger, they exist to protect you. Anger is a part of you that loves you the most."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Anger knows when you are being mistreated, neglected or disrespected. Anger makes you aware when something isn't right, and anger makes you take action to protect yourself. The idea is to make it your best friend and listen to it. Then, it'll leave."
"Wow. I hadn't ever considered that." I said.
"I can't take credit for the idea, someone I studied with read it out during a discussion. But I suppose the same logic could be applied to your anxiety and panic as well. I'm not trivialising what you're going through, it might be an illness, but the emotions themselves aren't the illness. But them being on overdrive, that may be something we can learn to navigate."
I laughed, "And how do I navigate them?"
"By understanding them." She continued, "There are a few things that I wish to tell you. One is that we're going to try pausing. Try leaving the place, or clapping loudly and cutting the chain of thought when you sense a panic attack arising. Two, when you can, maybe we should try leaning into these emotions. If you're feeling anxious, try talking through your thoughts, or writing them out."
"What about the anger?" I asked. "How do I protect those around me?"
She smiled, "I want to explore that further with you in the next session. Until then, write for me, find out what self-care means to you and indulge in it and I will send you a passage that I've read."
She later sent me a quote from Tumblr:
You have a little bit of 'I want to save the world' in you. I want you to know that it's okay if you only save one person, and it's okay if that person is you.
The script above isn't medical advice, but there are charities that can help you. If you are a student, your institution is likely to have therapists. Counselling might be covered by your insurance. For people living in the UK, the NHS is there for you. Help is available.
If you're having suicidal thoughts, please phone a helpline:
Samaritans: 116 123
Or text "SHOUT" to 85258
NHS: 111 (for those in the UK)
