Today was mental health day. I didn’t realize that it was until I got off work. And I asked myself how I didn’t know this earlier, but I have no good answer to it. Just like me, a lot of people didn’t realize that today was the only day we actually acknowledge our mental health. And I asked myself why this is. This past year I’ve done a lot to show people that it’s okay to feel whatever they’re feeling, but still people are hesitant to everything I tell them. They say that they’re okay, that it’s just a bad day, that they don’t have to talk about it or that other people have it worse. Yeah, that might be true. But why do other people stop you to express how you feel? Whether they have it better or worse?
By now everybody knows that I’ve had both good times and bad times. And one of the worse times this year was in March, I had just gotten out of my 5th (or 6th?) surgery in 10 days, I was alone and I was tired. And for some reason I decided to capture this moment. When I look at the picture today I just want to know why the fuck I didn’t do something. 6 months later I can feel just as bad and just as tired as I did that day. And I still sometimes do nothing. But I also do something. Something that for some reason is too weird to talk about. Once a week I talk about my fears, my hopes and my trauma with a professional therapist. And no matter how bad I feel in the one hour a week I talk to her, I feel a hundred times better when I leave her office. It’s like a huge weight has lifted from my chest. Every fucking time.
People say “of course you should go to a therapist, you have gone through something awful”. Yeah I have, but again, why are my problems worse then somebody else’s? Why shouldn’t everybody feel the huge weight lifted off their chest after talking about something that weighs them down?
A couple of weeks ago, after a therapy session, I sat on the bus home, and I thought to myself: “I should have fucking gone to therapy way before all this shit happened”. But why didn’t I? And why don’t you?