It may be Chronic... But it Doesn't Have to be Permanent.
You are not your disease.
A diagnosis is only as good as what you make of it.
Don’t let an ailment define who you are as a person.
Sound familiar? In a world of attempted positivity and projecting (sometimes fake) happiness through our fingertips and into our social media, mantras and positive affirmations have become an almost obsessive trend. Helpful, sure. Some people find these affirmations a way to shed any negativity or toxicity in their lives and put on their happy faces. Others, however--like myself on occasion--can find them more toxic than relieving.
This has been one of the more positive affirmations I’ve been able to come up with in my recent (and current) struggles. Sure, in hindsight I (or my therapists) could probably say that my depression could have been ever present since I was a teenager--my anxiety, even earlier--but that doesn’t help me with the today of it all. And let’s be honest, I don’t think if you spoke to my family and friends back then, you probably wouldn’t hear the term ‘anxiety’ anywhere. Depression, maybe, but not anxiety. “She’s just shy.” “She just has stage fright.” “She has some bad days, but she’s rather optimistic and friendly.” All very valid, very true statements. But not what I’m talking about.
When this flare up of my mental illness came to a head, my family doctor listed the following to me:
Anxiety.
Depression.
Panic Disorder.
How many diagnoses do you see in there? Three? Two? Twenty? There’s actually only one.
Probably one of the realist statements I had been told over the last five months came from my psychiatrist when I mentioned this to him. He said, very clearly, “Anxiety and depression are not diagnoses. They’re symptoms.” Being in the line of work I’m in, I understand and know the difference between symptoms and a diagnosis (and have promptly learned how to nitpick). For those who may argue with me, think of it like this: symptoms are often descriptors of what a diagnosis can manifest in you.
To put it simpler: you aren’t told by your doctor that you’re sneezing, have a runny nose, and have a fever (symptoms). You’re told that you have a cold (diagnosis). So to put that in my mental health perspective in a little bit of a crude way: I have depression and anxiety (symptoms), but what is the diagnosis? Both symptoms are very vague and blanket terms and are interconnected to a large web of mental illnesses--anywhere between Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), to Bipolar Disorder. And that’s a hell of a blanket.
My psychiatrist disagreed with the panic disorder diagnosis that my family physician had written down. So I asked him: what is your professional diagnosis for me?
The clouds parted, the heavens opened up, the sun shone down on the office and my psychiatrist answered me clearly and concisely:
Major Depressive Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder.
What do those mean? Do they mean that I’m forever going to be a sad mushy mess of depression and in constant fear of social interaction that I need to hide out in my house for the rest of my life? Did I go home and begin my life as a hermit?
Of course not! That probably is the absolute opposite effect a mental health diagnosis should have on a person. When he shared his diagnosis of me, I felt like I was suddenly sitting up taller, anxiety (briefly) extinguished, head clear.
I felt relieved. There was finally a diagnosis--a reason--more than just it being in my head! I mean--you know what I mean.
But Alex, you were just given chronic diagnoses that are probably never going to go away (well, yes--that’s the definition of “chronic”). Why are you sounding so happy about them?
Because, as my title and most powerful affirmation states, it may be chronic but it is in no way permanent.
And to be just a little more cliche--I will not let this define me. It is a part of me, but you and I are built of hundreds of different bricks that define “Me”. Hundreds of bricks define Alex White, and these are just two that have been finally chiseled into clarity. As I said, in hindsight I have probably had these bricks for years, but now that I finally have defined these bricks in hand, I can now slab them up into the being that is myself and say to the world “Hey, this is Me”.
I can still have happy moments while having Major Depressive Disorder. I can still be completely comfortable in social situations while having Social Anxiety Disorder. Now that I have been given these defined bricks that have built Me, I can learn how to properly cope, properly grow.
We are forever learning and growing as people--and if anyone ever tells you that they’re too old to learn, grow, or change, they’re blatantly lying. Or in denial.
Don’t be one of those people. Don’t take a mental health diagnosis and say “I’m doomed forever to have panic attacks every time I am in a room with strangers having to converse and discuss smalltalk”. Although many of us find the idea of being in said room to be our worst nightmare, the panic attack will not necessarily happen. The discomfort will--but the panic attack won’t
Not if you take your diagnosis, learn about it, learn how it affects you, and learn how to handle it.
Let this be my cry from the mountaintop to everyone: to the mentally ill and/or stigmatized; to the ones who may not understand.
Forever learn and grow when it comes to your mental health. Never stop learning, and never ignore it. Take that step out of bed, put on some pants (they can be sweatpants--not like you have to be super dressed up to leave the house), and learn about you.
And when you do, remember: I am so proud of you for doing it. Because I know you can.
A diagnosis is only as good as what you make of it.
Don’t let an ailment define who you are as a person.
Sound familiar? In a world of attempted positivity and projecting (sometimes fake) happiness through our fingertips and into our social media, mantras and positive affirmations have become an almost obsessive trend. Helpful, sure. Some people find these affirmations a way to shed any negativity or toxicity in their lives and put on their happy faces. Others, however--like myself on occasion--can find them more toxic than relieving.
[Mental illness] may be chronic, but it doesn’t have to be permanent.
This has been one of the more positive affirmations I’ve been able to come up with in my recent (and current) struggles. Sure, in hindsight I (or my therapists) could probably say that my depression could have been ever present since I was a teenager--my anxiety, even earlier--but that doesn’t help me with the today of it all. And let’s be honest, I don’t think if you spoke to my family and friends back then, you probably wouldn’t hear the term ‘anxiety’ anywhere. Depression, maybe, but not anxiety. “She’s just shy.” “She just has stage fright.” “She has some bad days, but she’s rather optimistic and friendly.” All very valid, very true statements. But not what I’m talking about.
When this flare up of my mental illness came to a head, my family doctor listed the following to me:
Anxiety.
Depression.
Panic Disorder.
How many diagnoses do you see in there? Three? Two? Twenty? There’s actually only one.
Probably one of the realist statements I had been told over the last five months came from my psychiatrist when I mentioned this to him. He said, very clearly, “Anxiety and depression are not diagnoses. They’re symptoms.” Being in the line of work I’m in, I understand and know the difference between symptoms and a diagnosis (and have promptly learned how to nitpick). For those who may argue with me, think of it like this: symptoms are often descriptors of what a diagnosis can manifest in you.
To put it simpler: you aren’t told by your doctor that you’re sneezing, have a runny nose, and have a fever (symptoms). You’re told that you have a cold (diagnosis). So to put that in my mental health perspective in a little bit of a crude way: I have depression and anxiety (symptoms), but what is the diagnosis? Both symptoms are very vague and blanket terms and are interconnected to a large web of mental illnesses--anywhere between Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), to Bipolar Disorder. And that’s a hell of a blanket.
My psychiatrist disagreed with the panic disorder diagnosis that my family physician had written down. So I asked him: what is your professional diagnosis for me?
The clouds parted, the heavens opened up, the sun shone down on the office and my psychiatrist answered me clearly and concisely:
Major Depressive Disorder and Social Anxiety Disorder.
What do those mean? Do they mean that I’m forever going to be a sad mushy mess of depression and in constant fear of social interaction that I need to hide out in my house for the rest of my life? Did I go home and begin my life as a hermit?
Of course not! That probably is the absolute opposite effect a mental health diagnosis should have on a person. When he shared his diagnosis of me, I felt like I was suddenly sitting up taller, anxiety (briefly) extinguished, head clear.
I felt relieved. There was finally a diagnosis--a reason--more than just it being in my head! I mean--you know what I mean.
But Alex, you were just given chronic diagnoses that are probably never going to go away (well, yes--that’s the definition of “chronic”). Why are you sounding so happy about them?
Because, as my title and most powerful affirmation states, it may be chronic but it is in no way permanent.
And to be just a little more cliche--I will not let this define me. It is a part of me, but you and I are built of hundreds of different bricks that define “Me”. Hundreds of bricks define Alex White, and these are just two that have been finally chiseled into clarity. As I said, in hindsight I have probably had these bricks for years, but now that I finally have defined these bricks in hand, I can now slab them up into the being that is myself and say to the world “Hey, this is Me”.
I can still have happy moments while having Major Depressive Disorder. I can still be completely comfortable in social situations while having Social Anxiety Disorder. Now that I have been given these defined bricks that have built Me, I can learn how to properly cope, properly grow.
We are forever learning and growing as people--and if anyone ever tells you that they’re too old to learn, grow, or change, they’re blatantly lying. Or in denial.
Don’t be one of those people. Don’t take a mental health diagnosis and say “I’m doomed forever to have panic attacks every time I am in a room with strangers having to converse and discuss smalltalk”. Although many of us find the idea of being in said room to be our worst nightmare, the panic attack will not necessarily happen. The discomfort will--but the panic attack won’t
Not if you take your diagnosis, learn about it, learn how it affects you, and learn how to handle it.
Let this be my cry from the mountaintop to everyone: to the mentally ill and/or stigmatized; to the ones who may not understand.
Forever learn and grow when it comes to your mental health. Never stop learning, and never ignore it. Take that step out of bed, put on some pants (they can be sweatpants--not like you have to be super dressed up to leave the house), and learn about you.
And when you do, remember: I am so proud of you for doing it. Because I know you can.
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