Waiting For The Day To Tell The World About My Mental Illness

It is almost 5 years today since I first started taking medication for a mental illness that was diagnosed at that time (later it was found to be one aspect of the whole illness).

I remember my parents were so shushed about it and came up with all kinds of different physical ailments to tell the society, which included relatives, neighbors, etc. because it was clearly visible to everyone that something was wrong with me.

And following in their footsteps, I came up with novel diseases every time I submitted my medical leave application to my employer.

It went on like this for nearly a year and a half, after which I was eventually diagnosed with my current permanent mental illness, for which the treatment began in earnest. I started seeing the results within three months of taking the new set of medications. Things started to come back on track and I began to feel ‘normal’.

Then started the phase of researching about the illness — scouring medical articles, watching documentaries, reading autobiographies of sufferers, taking psychotherapy, and having a chit-chat with fellow patients on social media.

There was a reason to be stressed, and a reason to feel at ease after doing all this research.

The stress came from the fact that many of the victims ailing from this mental illness committed suicide or led a turbulent life. The ease came from the fact that it was common and manageable with the right set of medications, psychotherapy, and supportive people around.

I began doing everything that made me feel alive earlier. I listened to music, I wrote, I played sports, I talked to strangers, I explored beautiful places, I got into photography, I meditated.

Although mental illness is seen as a curse in a conventional sense, emerging from it has transformed me and has given me immense depth, brand new eyes, compassion for not-so-blessed souls, making it seem like a blessing in disguise.

If I had to choose whether I would like to keep my mental illness or get rid of it, I would proudly keep it. It is my identity, an integral part of me. It’s who I am.

If given a choice whether I would like to keep my mental illness or get rid of it, I would proudly keep it. It is my identity, an integral part of me. It’s who I am.

Since then, I’ve become an advocate of mental health — raising awareness and destigmatizing aspects of mental illness — but still, somehow, I haven’t built the courage to share my story with the world candidly.

Maybe I just don’t feel like sharing it now. Maybe I am afraid that coming out openly about it will have repercussions on my job, or on my relationships with people, or maybe there are still some other factors at play in my subconscious mind.

But, one thing is for sure: sooner or later, I will disclose everything about my story in front of the world in the right format.

Till then, I will keep on living and loving and writing and sharing.