Mental illness is incredibly misunderstood, yet it affects a very significant amount of our population. It is the invisible ghost—looming over your shoulder and turning everyday activities into daunting ordeals. For many of us, the struggle is unseen, garnering unwanted responses and advice like, “Just keep going” and “take deep breaths.” However, it’s rarely discussed that mental illness can take a physical toll as well—one that can’t be “walked off” or meditated away.
Recently, I went to the hospital twice thinking I was having some sort of aneurism or heart attack. My heart was racing, my face was hot, and my body was shaking uncontrollably. The fear continued to rise, and I rushed to the ER and was given a variety of tests, including blood and urine samples and an echo on my heart as well as a chest x-ray. Every test was good, and I was given a stamp of good health and sent on my way with a diagnosis of anxiety-caused tachycardia or fast heart rate.
The days after, though filled with Ativan and lots of rest, have only slowly gotten easier. Nausea and vomiting, as well as a daily anxiety attack complete with a constant, nagging feeling of butterflies and static. Some days it feels that sleep is the only way to shut it all down and feel better again before those brief moments of morning clarity are flooded by anxiety once again.
Even though I’ve felt these debilitating effects of my illness, I am still uncomfortable sharing my struggle. I’ve heard, “take your mind off it” when trying to explain the stomach pain and nausea and “just calm down” when I mention my shakiness and racing heart. Dizziness, migraines, body aches—the list goes on and on. Mental illness isn’t confined to your mind.
Is that not enough? Are fainting and vomiting not real enough symptoms for my illness to be taken seriously? How much further must I be pushed before someone believes that I can’t just flip a switch and get over it?
The mind affects your entire well-being. When it is sick, you are sick. When it hurts, you hurt. Just as you take care of your body, you need to take care of your mind. Yes, breathing and meditation are very helpful tools to maintain mental health, however, they aren’t always the best way to treat those with a mental illness. I incorporate meditation and yoga into my self-care regime, but I would be far worse without the help of therapy and medication, and there should be no shame associated with that.
Mental illness is a physical illness, and it should be treated as one. It affects the way you see the world, the way you spend your time, what you choose to eat, how your body responds to stress, and therefore your overall health. When you tell someone to “get over it” and act as if their illness is less important because it’s less visible, you are contributing to the barriers that already exist in regards to seeking mental health care, labeling mental illness as less real, less valid, and less important than physical illness. And in the end, what’s most important is that those who need help are able to access it—regardless of the name of their illness.