Weakness is a choice, not a state. As harsh as it sounds, I learned this lesson in the best possible way, through acceptance of my own imperfections.
I came from a place, and was brought up in a way, that allowed no space for psychological weakness. I was taught that dog eats dog, and the weaker side is the one that chooses to reveal their imperfections. Masking, therefore, is the only solution - the only way to protect yourself against outside attacks. And while I lived by this precept for the better part of my life, I constantly felt that I was losing on something bigger, and possibly more important: support. Masking imperfections and pretending to be in a constant state of bliss prevented me from seeking support when I needed it, not only professional, but also personal, from my friends and family. ‘Carol is always fine’ resounded like a tautology in my mind. I was always, fine because the burden of my struggles was not shown to the outside world.
But being always fine means that you force yourself to pull through completely alone, and incapable of admitting your own defeat you entrench yourself in the blissful deceit of happiness. It means that you hide your deepest and most sincere feelings even to the people you claim are the closest to you, the ones on whom you rely for everything else. But you wouldn’t trust them with your intimate fears and struggles. Why? Well, simply put, because I was taught that showing weakness to anyone, even your friends, even your family, even your own parents sometimes, means that they look at you differently. They see you as imperfect, weakened, easily threatened. The last thing you want to receive is pity, or even worse, being manipulated because of your state. The solution: A smile on your lips before leaving your house every morning, regardless of what you feel inside.
The tables turned when I moved to the US.
For the first time in my life, and to my greatest disbelief, people around me talked about their mental health. It felt like everyone was struggling somehow with their own problems - everyone was going through something. And even worse, in my eyes, they were all open about it. Telling quasi strangers about them going to therapy to me was a heresy. To them, it was another mundane conversation. It took me a while to adjust and to understand what this could have implied for me too. Eventually, I got it and possibly I learned the most important lesson about personal well-being. Everyone, everyone, struggles. Not every day, not all the time. But all of us are going through something at any given moment. Masking it doesn’t help us, and it doesn’t surely help others in understanding how to approach us. On the contrary, being open about mental health is the first step to creating a healthy society, and not only because people are more or less willing to seek help. I came to believe that the most important contribution that the openness about mental health wages is in interpersonal relationships. If I am suffering from anxiety or insomnia, I will not be myself to the fullest, while the people around me do not have a way of knowing why my behaviour has suddenly changed. So many times I found myself in situations of having to apologise for inconsistent behaviour while being unwilling to admit the reason why. Perhaps, had I simply said that I was going through a rough time would have allowed my friends and family to look out for me, instead of assuming malevolence from my part.
I learned to smile when I felt like, to voice my fears when I grew some, and not to expect myself to be 100% all the time. I learned to accept my flaws as I discovered them, and informing others of them. While I do not expect to be ‘excused’ or ‘pitied’ for my mental health, I do wish to be respected for the person I am in light of a mutual recognition that none of us can be always fine.
Comments