Physical vs. Mental Illness
As most of you reading this know, I have an anxiety disorder. You might also know that I'm a type one diabetic. I understand the needs that both of these conditions have, but one always seems to take precedent over the other.
You've probably heard people say that mental health is just as important as physical health. That's true, those two aspects of our health are both extremely important, but society is always slow to catch on to things like these.
I’ve written before that I have a hard enough time acknowledging my own physical symptoms, how am I supposed to take the things happening in my mind seriously? If I don’t even trust my body to tell me what’s wrong, let alone my mind. I think this is one of the ways the phrase it’s all in your head has gotten to me. Because, as the name implies, mental illness is all in your head. That’s like saying that stomach pain is all in your stomach, or a headache is all in your head—I can figure that much out by myself, thanks.
Phrases like that are the main reason why I have such a hard time trusting myself, and have had to work hard just to be able to speak up and say that I don’t feel well. Have you ever sent an email to a professor saying that you’re taking a mental health day? I’ve only ever done this once, when my anxiety was so bad I could barely imagine stepping outside of my house without panicking, let alone driving all the way to my school, thirty minutes away. I was terrified to hit send—what if he didn’t believe mental illnesses were real? What if he never responded at all, or spoke to me for the rest of the semester?
Yeah, my anxiety was really out of control. I finally hit the button, and the email disappeared, on its way to my professor’s inbox. A couple hours later, he responded. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something about what I was going to miss and that he would see me the following week. Just like that, it was done.
Now, I do understand how lucky I was with his response. There are people in authority positions who don’t believe in mental health days, or think that no matter what you say, you’re faking.
Let’s contrast this with physical illnesses now. I know a lot of people with invisible disabilities (chronic pain, IBS, etc.) are often not believed when they talk about their symptoms, usually with people saying “You’re too young to be sick” or “You don’t look sick”, which is even more nonsensical than telling a mentally ill person that it’s all in their head. Trust me, no one in any of these scenarios wants to be sick or anxious or depressed or crippled by pain or intrusive thoughts followed by compulsions. The only people who would think that are the ones who have never experienced it.
When I started working at my current job, I knew my rights. Under the Americans with Disabilities Act, I’m covered. The first time I told my supervisor that my blood sugar was low, he was kind of confused, but let me go anyway. My other supervisor was very adamant that I take as long as I need to correct lows, even if it means taking longer breaks or leaving in the middle of a task. I mean, it’s not like they can tell me no, but it’s nice to have that support.
I want to be as casual about taking accomodations for my brain as I am about my body. I can’t be an effective member of my team if I’m not feeling well all around, right?
It’s extremely uncomfortable, I know that, but the next time you aren’t feeling your best at work or at school, tell someone. It could be as simple as, “I’m not in a good headspace right now” or, “I’ve been feeling really down lately”, opening up will be good for you and your workplace.
Stay safe and be kind to yourself (all of yourself!)
—Abbie
