Yep, I am going to bring up one of the most talked about parts of recovery. The thing is, I haven’t talked about it yet, and you haven’t heard my spin on it.

So, a little back story, as you may or may not know, I was thrust into the mental health world in 2011. This was after, albeit my third, a very serious suicide attempt. I had taken a bottle and a half of over the counter sleeping pills, and wrote a suicide note that I posted to social media. As you can imagine, this did not end well…funny enough though, posting the note actually saved my life, because someone called the cops on me. Well, actually it did end well, because I’m still here, so yeah. Although, I did go through some serious trials and tribulations during the resulting fallout. First, I was hospitalized, obviously. Then I was kicked out of high school. Next I was put in a series of partial hospitalization programs and group therapies. Finally I was shipped off to a high school specifically designed for teens with mental illness. Even though it may seem like I’m putting these events in a negative light, the current me is quite happy with the way things happened. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. And if one of those terrible things didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be where, nor who, I am today.

The one major issue that I have with how it all happened is probably that I was in denial for many years. I can hear you already, “what could you be in denial about?! You tried to kill yourself!” While this is true, I was in denial that I needed help, also that I had a problem. Yeah…as you can imagine, not much improvement was made during that time in my life. I refused to be put on meds, and really didn’t take anything away from my therapy. I often tried to use my intellect to shift the focus away from my own problems, onto someone else’s. Hence why I didn’t do well in group therapy settings. It also doesn’t help that I’m an empath, because I feel the need to “fix” people. So I used these things to my advantage during my group therapies, to try and help everyone but myself.

As I now know, this was the worst way I could have possibly done this. I mean, I wouldn’t change anything, because, again, it made me who I am today. But, I do need to bring up the reasons why I was this way. There are two that I can think of right off the bat. First, being society’s toxic image of masculinity. I was under the impression that men don’t have mental health problems, if they did, they were just weak. I was supposed to be tough, and resilient, and strong. In actuality I was none of those things, but I put up a persona that was, in order to meet “society’s standards”. The truth is, mental illness does not give one flying f*ck about your gender, race, background, finances, status, nothing. It is an indiscriminatory piece of sh*t. (Sorry about the censoring, I don’t really like curse words) Everyone on this planet goes through struggles in life, because well, life is hard. It is basically luck, or lack thereof, that causes mental illness. Because it’s a freaking illness, just like cancer. I know now, that I don’t care at all about how society thinks I’m supposed to be.

The second reason, is because of my father. He didn’t, and probably still doesn’t, believe in mental illnesses. He was a very old fashioned, stubborn thinking man. I’m pretty sure he’s racist, sexist, and every other kind of negative -ist out there. So having the man I emulated in my younger years, stubbornly believe that my mental illness was just an episode, made me feel the same way. So I refused meds, and didn’t really participate in treatment. Having one half of my support network not offering any support, is kinda like a bicycle with only one wheel. And yes I know that unicycles are a thing, but just let me explain my d*mn metaphor. So I was basically sitting on my mental health bicycle, pedaling, but just digging myself into the ground, stuck in one spot.

It wasn’t until my third year in college, that I really felt I needed help. That’s when I sought out a therapist, and psychiatrist, on my own accord. I had had enough of just slowly sinking in place. I finally admitted that I had a problem. And that my friends is where my journey truly began. Yet I still found myself on the proverbial edge about a year later, with my fourth suicide attempt. That, I might add, was nearly averted by my therapist at the time. So I obviously found myself once again in inpatient hospitalization. Except this time, I was on meds, and really tried my hardest to get the best out of, what also became a trainwreck, the aftermath of my attempt. It was then, that I found out I was one of the (un)lucky few that has medication resistant depression, as all the different meds I tried during and following my inpatient, didn’t really do so much for me. It was only after I quit my job this past January (because of my depression) that I finally decided that I was going to get better, no matter the cost. I had already been blogging for a while, on my old site, and I got too caught up in the “glamour” of wanting to be popular.

There are two main points that I wanted to make during this post. The first being, that you can’t fix a problem, without first admitting it’s a problem. If you have mental illness, there is no shame in admitting that you need help, well, there shouldn’t be. As I’ve said before, mental illness IS a dragon that you can slay, just not on your own. You need to admit that to yourself, and then build your treatment team, your support network. Getting help for something that you had no choice in might sound like admitting defeat, I mean it sure did to me when I was first diagnosed. But I’m here to tell you that way of thinking is, in fact, wrong! The only way you can be defeated by mental illness, or anything in life really, is if you stop trying. As long as you have some fight left in you, and you never give up, you’ll never lose.

That brings me to my second point. Once you admit you have a problem, whether it be mental illness, addiction, or just a rough patch in life, you NEED to seek help. Again, you can, and will win, but you will need all the help you can get. It’s like trying to clean your gutters on a windy day, sure you can do it alone. But you’ll probably get to the top of the ladder, and the wind will make it too unsteady to really get work done. However, if you have someone to hold the ladder while you’re doing it, then BOOM! Problem solved.

To wrap things up, the only thing wrong with admitting you have a problem, is letting it fester, and not getting help. Other than that, there’s nothing wrong with treating mental illness, addiction, or just saying you need a little extra support right now. I mean, you wouldn’t tell a cancer patient that they were weak, or making it up for attention, for going to the doctor’s, would you? If you would, then sorry to tell you, but you have no place here, please leave. Everybody else, the decent, hardworking folk that just need a little, or a lot, of help, I want to tell you that you’ve got this!

And I’m not saying that you’re not welcome to have your own opinion on the matter, cus you are, and I won’t judge. I’m also not saying that you need to be put on meds either, that’s not a decision that I am authorized to make. I am saying, if you’re struggling, just reach your hand out for some help, there are millions of people who willingly want to help you. As I saw somebody say on Twitter, we would rather listen to you vent about your problems, than hear about your death. From my mind, to yours, Alan Wolfgang, signing off.