Like much of the country – the world, even – I’ve been thinking a lot about mental illness/mental health, clinical depression, and suicide this past month. I’m glad that these topics have recently become easier to talk about, but I’m so sorry that it took losing someone like comedian and actor Robin Williams, to bring these conversations to the forefront. They can be ugly – sometimes brutally painful – topics to talk about.
There are lots of reasons that I’ve been almost obsessing over this. As a Personal Empowerment Coach, of course, I’m fascinated by personal growth and human potential issues. And psychology, too. I’m always curious about why something works for one person, but not for the next. As someone with bipolar disorder (type 1, if you’re keeping score), I’m always interested in others with a similar diagnosis or experiences. And finally, as someone who was “this close” to suicide myself, I feel an empathetic connection to those who attempt, or complete, the act of suicide.
If you’d have asked me six weeks ago, I’d have told you that all of that was behind me. I’m a different person now, I’d have said. And in so many ways, I really am. Right now, I can’t imagine being in that much pain again. I mean, I can’t even conjure up those feelings. I can describe how I felt, but I can’t go there. (And for that, I’m so grateful).
But, a few days after Robin Williams’ death, I found myself a little depressed. Not clinically depressed, but what I call situationally depressed; that is, depressed because of a specific situation. I realized that his death – and all the time I was spending thinking about it and reading about it – was stirring up some old stuff.
But I was also a bit confused. After about 25 years of doing a lot of internal work, of psychiatrists and therapists, of personal growth and spiritual evolution, you’d think that old stuff would be a part of the past now.
And then I realized (again), that we never get past anything. Not all the way past it. Once we let something into our experience, it’s always there. It never stops having an impact on us.
We can work to take control over that impact; we can work to mitigate the potential damage. But once it’s there, it’s there. As I’ve told clients in the past: We continually spiral around our issues. We may be spiraling upwards and away – or, downwards and toward – but we are always in some kind of relationship with our stuff.
It’s a dance, really.
So, what of this stuff that we can’t get away from? If it does come up, that’s a good indication that there’s more work to be done about it. For me, that means journaling, talking to friends, and sharing my opinions to help educate others. And, it means owning my story.
Up until very recently, I didn’t tell my story – not my entire story – and telling our personal stories is the easiest way to share who we are and where we’ve been in life. I didn’t own that certain things have happened to me, because I was afraid about what other people would think.
I always thought I was an open person, because I can’t think of a single event in my life that someone else doesn’t know about. But that “someone” is usually limited to my family or best friends.
When I found myself a little depressed and a little confused, I decided to cut myself some slack. To be gentle with myself about how I was feeling. I tried to softly self-correct when I heard negative self-thoughts. And, I finally opened up and shared this part of my story.
“We’re only as sick as our secrets,” Oprah once said. I believe that. I’ve seen that play out in the lives of some of the people I’ve loved the most. I can’t say there are no more secrets for me – I’m pretty sure there are a few other touchy issues I need to dance with, first slowly and intimately, and later – once I’ve found my
CIndy Jones Lantier