A to B

You know the feeling you get when you tip yourself too far back in your chair? It’s that falling sensation; your heart stopping; your arms reaching out to grab whatever they can to prevent you from toppling over. Our body’s response to almost falling out of our chair is an example of one of the many reflexes the human body has developed over thousands of years of evolution.

These involuntary, rapid muscular responses to stimuli are actually controlled by the spinal cord, not the brain. The reason is for the sake of speed. For example, when you touch a scorching pan handle, the nerves in your hand send signals to your spinal cord, which then sends a message to the muscles in your hand to contract and pull away from the hot handle. If the muscles in your arm had to send these signals all the way to the brain (a relatively long distance), which then had to send a response signal all the way back, you’d have a nice third-degree burn on your hand by the time your muscles released the hot handle. This is obviously a gross oversimplification of the complexities of the central nervous system, but the main point is this: reflexes exist to protect the body, and sometimes the body is better at protecting itself than the brain would be.

About a year and a half ago, I was living like I was almost always about to fall out of my chair. It was overworked at school, was way over-committed in my extracurricular activities, and I was stifling the feelings of loss and anger that come after a break up. I did not get nearly enough sleep, I did not have enough money, and I was always on edge. It was bad enough that I was always overwhelmed, yet never so bad that I couldn’t figure out a way to get by.

I told myself I’d get myself back together; I just needed some time. I just needed to make it to winter break and then I’d have over a month to catch up. But winter came and went, and I had done nothing to right myself. “That’s okay,” I thought, “I just have to make it to spring break.” Spring break came and went–it still wasn’t better. “It’s all good,” I told myself, “you’ve got the summer to get yourself back in order. Then you’ll be fine.” Summer came and went; and surprise surprise–I was worse. I kept telling myself I just needed a little more time, a little less work, just one more weekend of good sleep, and then I’d be all better. But deep down I knew that wasn’t true. I was depressed, and I needed help.

Everyone’s experience with depression is different, and depression can manifest itself in many ways. My depression is like a slow leak in a pipe. As water trickles out, I think, “I should fix that. It’s a small issue now, won’t take me long.” But then I can’t motivate myself to do it, and I figure I’ll tackle the issue another day. However, when I come back, there is now a puddle of water on the ground. “Crap,” “I think, “this is getting worse, I really should do something. All I have to do is fix the small problem and quickly wipe up the mess and I’m good to go. Thank goodness it’s not that bad yet.” And yet, I still take no action. Soon, the water is up to my knees, then my neck, and then drowning me. Like a reflex, my depression bypasses the self-awareness in my brain, and tries to protect my me by shielding my ego from the fact that I am hurting myself.

Around this time last year, I made my first effort to fix the pipe; to override my reflexes; to let myself fall and get back up: I went to therapy. I spent the first session sobbing, releasing all the negativity that had been weighing on me for over a year. My therapist told me that she empathized with me; that anyone experiencing what I had would feel at least a little depressed. She told me I couldn’t rid myself of my depression overnight, but being in therapy was a good start.

Having a good start was crucial to me because I have a really hard time beginning things. I’m impatient. I’m a perfectionist. I like to know all the information possible before making a decision. I used to tell my therapist, “I can do B to Z, I just can’t do A to B.” I agonize over A to B because that’s the commitment; the acknowledgement you don’t know all the answers, that you’re going to have to learn on the fly, and that things will change and evolve as time goes on. And I hate that. But I’m getting better.

During one of my last therapy sessions, my therapist and I talked about how I planned to continue healing my mental state after I graduated. I had mentioned before that I had wanted to start my own blog, and she thought this was a great idea. It would allow me to authentically share my story, to use my communication skills, and possibly create something that would have a positive impact on others. For the first time in a long time, I was motivated.

But I underestimated the anxiety my lingering depression would cause me. I put off the blog at first because I didn’t know which site to use to publish it. I bought classes to teach me how to start a blog, but neglected to watch them. I tried to reinvigorate myself by designing a logo, but I couldn’t decide on which one I liked best, so I gave up. My pipe was slowly leaking again, and I couldn’t bring myself to begin to patch it back up.

This post is my start. Today, on World Mental Health Day, during Mental Illness Awareness Week, I am choosing to begin; to actively be better–hence, the name of my blog. Originally, I planned to launch this blog five months ago, with a beautifully designed layout, and weeks of content already written. I wanted to produce a podcast with it. I’ve barely edited this post; it’s not perfect. And that’s all okay, because I finally tackled my A to B.

The hardest part is often the very first step. If you are looking for a sign, this was it. If you are struggling with your mental health, confide in someone and get support; go to therapy if you can. To be better at anything, you have to begin.

If you or a loved one need help finding mental health support, click here for some helpful resources.

The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255.