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My main purpose for having social media is to mindlessly scroll, like, and share cute/funny/all too true things. Lately, especially, I’ve found a lot of comfort reading memes and other posts around the topic of mental illness. I’ve even seen some I’ve sent to friends that I don’t relate to, but that I know will hit home to them.
But here’s the thing. A lot of people see these posts and like or share without thinking it through. In this day of internet diagnosis and the unlimited access to info there are people out there who are just self-diagnosing themselves with serious mental illnesses like depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, and more.
They see a post/meme/GIF/video/etc. that talks about a flaw or quirk they identify with and after five seconds on google they decide they’re bipolar, or have anxiety. They make it part of their personality, a hashtag for attention. They use it to explain away or excuse toxic behavior and, to be blunt, it’s so ignorant.
What many people, specifically ignorant people on the internet who see mental illness as a way to get attention, don’t seem to understand is that being diagnosed with mental illness is a journey. It is extensive, harrowing, soul crushing, and can sometimes be a fight.
You know my story. After years of dealing with undiagnosed depression and severe anxiety, and years of praying to God to end my life, I asked for help. I asked to see a therapist, and I did, and it did NOTHING. She asked me general questions about if I liked school, my plans for college, and other basic niceties. After 50 minutes she declared to my mom that I was perfectly fine. Not long after that I attempted suicide. I assumed that she was right, I wasn’t sick. I was just broken beyond repair and I would never be free of the agony I carried with me every second of every day.
After my suicide attempt I saw another therapist. She made me make a list of my good qualities. We played a little card game designed to find out if I was being abused. Eventually, for some reason or another, we stopped having appointments. It would be another two years before anyone actually diagnosed me. Two more years of seeing the occasional counselor and doctor to no avail, while still dealing with relentless panic attacks, crippling depression, and thoughts of suicide.
I was nine when I started having symptoms of anxiety,12 when my ADHD started causing me to have trouble in school, 15 when everything kicked in full force, but I was 19 when I first got medication, and almost 20 when I found the first therapist who actually helped me. It wasn’t until I was 23 that anyone figured out the ADHD. Since then I have still had to seek out doctors and psychiatrists in order to get the right medications, which includes stints of being on the extremely wrong ones. I’ve sifted through hundreds of listings for therapists and spent hours on the phone being told there are no openings or that they only offer shock therapy. Right now I’m on the waitlist for a therapist, because that’s the only option.
I’m not alone. I’ve had family members have to go through doctor after doctor fighting for the right diagnosis and treatment. I’ve watched friends spend weeks and months going through endless hours of complex and expensive tests only to come out the other side with a diagnosis (if they were lucky and had doctors who actually listened to them) which is really just the first step. Once you’re diagnosed with a mental illness, the real work starts. You have to find the medication that works for you (and pray your insurance covers it). You have to dig into all of your problems and your past to find the roots of your issues so you can start dealing with them. You have to explain your diagnosis to everyone in your life, trying to make them understand it doesn’t define you, while also setting the boundaries you need to thrive.
Mental illness is a lifelong battle. Just getting the right diagnosis can take years of suffering. In the U.S. alone almost 50,000 people ended their lives last year because for one reason or another they weren’t able to win the fight against mental illness. I’ve had a diagnosis and treatment for 11 years. I still suffer. I still struggle.
That’s why it makes me so genuinely angry when I see people on social media calling themselves bipolar or “so OCD”. That’s why I want to scream when people talk about having a panic attack as hyperbole, like it’s a joke. Everytime you, or someone you know, uses mental illness as an adjective, or decides they have a condition without ever having actually been diagnosed, you spit in the face of the people who actually struggle with those illnesses. You diminish the inconceivable effort those people put into finding answers and getting better.
The next time you have a mood swing, think before saying “OMG I’m so bipolar”. The next time there’s a crowd, stop yourself from saying “I’m gonna have a total panic attack”. And most importantly of all, if you think even for a moment that you’re struggling with mental illness, GET HELP. You cannot self-diagnose OCD, BPD, etc. Google cannot diagnose you. You can’t take an online quiz. When you just decide for yourself you not only do harm to every person out there who is struggling, but you do harm to yourself. You cannot get treatment or get better until you sit down and have an honest conversation with your doctor, a therapist, or a healthcare professional.
I am always here to listen and support, and here are other resources too.
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