We walk around as if everyone is fine
By Hattie Butterworth
One thing that connects those who have had a brush with mental illness is the knowledge that anyone at any time and in any place could be suffering. This thought usually occurs to me staring vacantly on the tube or the train: ‘Literally any one of these people could be having the worst day of their life and no one would know.’
As I flatly existed around London in 2018, I remember feeling intense anger that no one considered my pain. No one close to me tended to ask about it, because they knew it was bad. Every time they asked, it was the same or worse. The guilt of wellness enveloped my friends as I sunk deeper into this terrifying state of mind, so I stopped talking about it. I often wonder if it could have been different.
My brain still frequently has dark days. Within the darkness, anxiety says ‘this is it’. This time you will lose your job, your friends and any joy or happiness because of your mental illness. I am starting to realise that this anxiety comes from the trauma of past isolation and not the experience of mental illness. I forget that things are different now, and I’m not ashamed to explain the intricacies of my brain to medical professionals as soon as things feel unmanageable.
“The knowledge of seeking help, and having the ability to seek help, is freedom”
When we try to cope without help, we are traumatising our bodies and minds further. We are telling ourselves that it ‘should be different’, and in turn the pain of mental illness intensifies. Acceptance is at the root of many world religions for this reason. To battle against what ‘is’ causes greater suffering. But people often feel that their current experience of mental distress is unacceptable.
In 2018 I had bad mental health advice. I fooled psychiatrists because I was afraid what being honest might mean. Now five years later, I find it impossible to live with the burden of my brain without giving some of it over to medication, support and counselling. The knowledge of seeking help, and having the ability to seek help, is freedom. I couldn’t do it on my own ever again.
I now have a crisis plan. My mum and I came up with it when I moved to London again in 2022. I was scared of what might happen if I went downhill and no one was there. It has been the most caring thing to do for my brain and my peace of mind. I know that no matter how bad it gets, I have a plan there to keep me safe.
But talking about plans, suicide and deep emotional pain isn’t conducive to success and ability. It feels ‘emo’ or ‘extreme’. That’s why I decided to ‘cure myself’ and ‘push through’ in the past to absolutely no avail.
What if we spent the next train journey assuming that everyone is ‘not fine’? Knowing that someone could be at the end of their suffering, just moments from reaching a crisis point. Instead of the general assumption that everyone is fine, we turn this around and understand that we can’t know the intricacies of each other’s pain. But that pain really does exist and we can’t ignore its existence.