By definition and invisible illnesses are chronic illnesses that significantly impair daily living. If you search online the lists will include auto immune diseases, such as lupus, arthritis and chronic fatigue syndrome. The lists are long, the symptoms varied but painful and exhausting. I know, I have arthritis myself and another auto immune disease that is currently yet to be given a name because it can't commit to a part of my body quite yet (or something).
But unless you're reading a mental health related blog or article you won't find any mental health conditions listed under invisible illnesses.
As someone with both a chronic physical disability and mental health problems I can tell you, mental health problems significantly impair daily life. And not just on an emotional or psychological level, physically too. The fatigue that washes over you when depression hits in overwhelming waves and refuses to lift for weeks and weeks. The pain and tightness of constant anxiety that makes it hard to breathe all day and that doesn't even come close to the intense and terrifying pain that you can experience with an anxiety attack. Mental illness toys with you so much that physical symptoms are just part of the package.
There's a strange heaviness that comes with mental health problems that is unrelated to the problems themselves. It's like a cloud that rains down emotions that soak your clothes and make it harder to navigate your path through life. Fear, anger, anxiety, resentment, raining down and holding you back just a tiny bit, but enough for you to be constantly aware of it.
I'm scared that people will judge, that because of stereotypes or their prejudices I'll miss out on opportunities. I'm training to be a counsellor, it doesn't take much for someone's preconceived ideas about my mental health problems to get in my way.
I'm scared of that.
I'm anxious that people won't understand. That when I'm overwhelmed and can barely drag myself out of bed to look after the children that people won't understand why I look like hell and can barely speak. Or when I'm impulsive and spend money I shouldn't or take on more than is realistic, that people won't understand and I'll be judged or penalised for it.
I'm angry, so bloody angry because it's invisible and I have to explain over and over again that sometimes my behaviour is a symptom of an illness that I have "but yeah sorry you can't see it or really understand it".
And I resent that I have to prove it. People question the validity of my illness because they can't see, hold or quantify it. And I have to say "well on a scale of one to suicidal I'm about 500 so....?" And hope that they understand or will at least accept it because lord knows on a bad day I don't have the energy to justify myself as much as I have to sometimes.
And then then even when things are good, when I've had a few good days or better yet a few good weeks, the heaviness is still there raining down its anxiety. When will I have another episode? How will I cope? How will it be? Will people understand? Will it get in the way? That in itself is pretty exhausting.
I have the same anxiety with my physical disability. And the same resentment. Wow the resentment with that is huge and accidentally slips into anger if I'm having a bad day pain wise and a bad day with being a little loopy and someone asks why I'm sitting in the priority seats on the bus.
But that's for another time.
But people will understand physical illness to an extent, even if they can't see it.
Mental illness though? That's another story. And so you walk through life carrying it around with you like an oversized bag no one can see and have to apologise each time your invisible bag hits someone as you pass them on this metaphorical journey. And all the while as much as you continue to empty it out this bag fills up and weighs you down and yet no one can see it. People judge you for lagging behind in the race but they can't see the extra weight you carry. I mean, it's in your head, skulls are pretty thick. They don't have much chance with that one.
And it's not unless you're privileged enough to get to the point where your mental illness displays such blatant physical symptoms that people notice. For me, that's my weight loss.
But when people notice and it's not invisible anymore the stigma and judgement that you've feared for so long while your illness has been hidden inside your head is suddenly something you have to face. Constantly. And that can be just as awful and overwhelming as you feared.
And so you go back to trying to hide your illness, after all that time, all the resentment you've felt from it being invisible you wish it could just be so again. And that is why mental illnesses are unique.
With my physical disability I wish people could see and understand without me having to explain. Physical disabilities are widely accepted and acknowledged.
With my mental health (despite talking about it openly online) as much as I wish people understood, so many don't. And that makes me want to hide it away whenever it becomes visible.
And yet as soon as that happens, the resentment and difficulties of living with invisible illness return.
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