If you’re reading this, you do not need to make excuses for your mental health.
I am extremely open about my battle with mental health, but it has taken me years to get here. Looking back on my early childhood, I realize that I was suffering long before I admitted it. For years, I was in denial. I believed that if I had a mental illness, it would become the only thing that defined me. So, I told myself that I didn’t have one. I convinced myself that my anxiety was justified, my superstitions made sense, and my desire to be perfect was simply who I was.
For years, I believed these things that I was telling myself. But as I grew older, it became harder and harder to convince myself that I was okay. I spend every second of every day battling intrusive thoughts. If I don’t buckle my seatbelt an even number of times, I’ll get in a car accident. If I don’t tell my parents I love them before bed, they won’t wake up in the morning.
My life felt like it was moving so slow yet so fast. Minutes felt like hours as I fought the urge to complete these ‘habits’ which I was beginning to recognize as compulsions. Yet at the same time, time felt like it was flying by me, and the moments in which I was truly happy were few and far between. I was going through the motions of living, but I knew that there had to be more to life.
So, I stopped making excuses. I stopped telling myself that having panic attacks from an uneven pile of laundry was just who I was. I stopped telling myself that spending hours on a simple school project was productive. Most importantly, I stopped pretending that I was okay. And I started being honest with myself and my family.
I was absolutely terrified to go to my first therapy appointment, but I went. I couldn’t tell you what I talked about during my first session, even if I wanted to: It’s all a blur. What I do remember is that I began to look forward to Tuesdays at noon. That was when I got an hour all to myself, to talk about whatever I was feeling.
Week by week, I noticed myself becoming better. I stopped aiming for perfection over happiness. I started recognizing my compulsions for what they were- useless thoughts that were playing with my mind- and I stopped feeding them.
To anyone who may be in the position that I was in a few years ago, this is my message to you: Admitting to yourself that you are struggling with your mental health will not make it any more a part of you than it already is. Acknowledging this illness is not going to allow it to define you. Instead, it will allow you to begin moving forward on this road. It will not be easy, but I promise you, it will be more than worth it.
I struggle with my mental health. I have OCD and Anxiety, and it will always and inevitably be a part of who I am. But I will never allow this to define me.
Lily G., Villanova University ‘23
