But you look so normal. If I had a dollar of the amount of times I have been told that, I probably wouldn't need to work another day in my life - ok... slight over exaggeration... but I have heard it ALOT!! It's funny though - I never quite know how to respond... blank face... slow blink... polite smile... laughter... maybe all of the above? Actually usually all of the above... Sometimes I make a joke - "what am I meant to have an extra head or something?" Apparently I'm not a comedian - although I think I'm freaking hilarious...
The thing about mental illness is that you can't see it. One of my closest friends described it beautifully when she called it a 'silent disability'. I loved that description because it is true - so many people who co-exist with mental illness display no signs (so people think)... they 'look so normal' - even to their most inner circle. I have been told that I'm too 'beautiful' to be mentally ill (insert eyebrow raise here...). I mean, what do I even say to that?? Um... Thanks??
When someone commits suicide, their family, friends, work colleagues etc, often reply with "but there were no signs", "if only we had known". The thing is, mental health is not completely silent; there are signs regardless of how small. THEY ARE ALWAYS THERE!! We need to open our eyes and see.
Co-existing with this silent disability is the loneliest of lives - even for an introvert like me. The signs I was unintentionally emitting going unnoticed for years by those who were close - why? Like I've already mentioned - those around me decided that I was just too 'beautiful' to be mentally ill, so I'm sure you can imagin their aghast when they learnt I was once committed and how quickly they were to remove me from their meticulous little circles.
I could probably be compared to a pressure cooker. We all know what eventually happened (for those who don't know, I suggest you use your imagination...).
KABOOM
Yep, it was not pretty. Now, I know it is so much easier to remain in a state of blindness. But what if we lived in a world where people are seen... people like me. I mean REALLY seen. What if we don't ignore what we SEE. What if we were to acknowledge what we see. What if we were to act on what we see. Close your eyes for just a minute and visualise that world. What do you see? What do you feel? Do you feel anything at all? Tell me!! I want to know what you see!!
I personally do not see a 'perfect' world - because there will always be unbalance, and that's ok. We learn and grow from our trials, so they are an important part of our lives. I do however envision a world where people aren't afraid to call for HELP!! Where not only is your cry heard... but people come running!! (maybe not literally - my children and partner have actually asked me not to run EVER - something about it being embarrassing to watch or some such thing...) I envision people leaning on each other. Loving each other. Trusting each other. A world where there is no shame in stumbling from time to time, but when you do someone catches you. They lift you, and safety envelopes you...
Approximately eight million people lose their lives every year to mental health disorders, unlike other conditions that have been eradicated through world wide vaccination programs. The only way we can get on top of it, is to stop ignoring its existence. But who is willing to open their eyes?
Are you willing to open your eyes?
About the Creator
Kai Mitch
Wife... Mother... Lover of life... And everything in between...
Christmas is Not Always “Beer and Skittles”
If you find the holiday season challenging, you’re not alone. I have never been a big fan of Christmas. I have always found it a bit pretentious. It is a time for kids, really. I have not had kids in my life, so the "children's influence" around this time of year doesn’t occur.
By Calvin London23 days ago in Psyche
From Surviving to Living: When Rest Becomes an Act of Courage
When Survival Becomes a Lifestyle — And You Forget How to Live There is a quiet shift that happens when survival lasts too long. At first, it’s temporary. You tell yourself, “I just need to get through this phase.” Then weeks become months. Months become years. And without realizing it, survival stops being a response — it becomes a lifestyle. You don’t notice the moment it happens. There’s no clear breaking point. Just a gradual narrowing of life. Your goals become smaller. Your dreams become practical. Your emotions become controlled, managed, muted. You stop asking what brings you joy and start asking what is necessary. What is efficient. What is acceptable. And slowly, living turns into managing. The Hidden Cost of Constant Coping When someone lives in survival mode for too long, their nervous system adapts. It learns to stay alert. It learns to expect pressure. It learns that rest is risky and stillness is unsafe. So even when external threats disappear, the body doesn’t get the message. This is why many people feel exhausted without knowing why. Why calm moments feel uncomfortable. Why success doesn’t bring satisfaction. Why peace feels strangely empty. It’s not because something is missing. It’s because your system was never taught how to receive ease. You learned how to endure. Not how to enjoy. Why Letting Go Feels Harder Than Holding On Letting go sounds simple in theory. But for someone who survived by holding everything together, letting go feels like failure. You weren’t rewarded for resting. You were rewarded for coping. For staying strong. For not needing too much. So your identity formed around function, not feeling. This is why slowing down can trigger anxiety. Why saying “I can’t” feels shameful. Why doing less feels like becoming less. Your worth became linked to effort. And effort became constant. Healing Is Not Becoming Softer — It’s Becoming Safer Healing from long-term survival is not about becoming fragile. It’s about becoming safe. Safe enough to pause without panic. Safe enough to feel without rushing to fix. Safe enough to rest without preparing for collapse. This kind of healing doesn’t happen through motivation or discipline. It happens through permission. Permission to stop performing strength. Permission to disappoint expectations — including your own. Permission to exist without proving anything. At first, this feels unnatural. Because survival trained you to believe that safety must be earned. But safety is not earned. It is allowed. Relearning What Living Actually Feels Like Living is not dramatic. It doesn’t always feel exciting or intense. Sometimes, living feels quiet. Neutral. Ordinary. And for someone used to survival, that can feel unsettling. But calm is not emptiness. It is space. Space to notice yourself again. Space to feel preferences instead of obligations. Space to choose, not react. You don’t suddenly become a new person. You simply return to parts of yourself that were postponed. A Different Measure of Progress Progress is often measured by how much you do. How fast you move. How productive you appear. But healing progress looks different. It looks like stopping before burnout instead of after. Like resting before you collapse. Like saying “enough” without explaining yourself. It looks like choosing sustainability over intensity. Truth over performance. Presence over pressure. This kind of progress is quiet. And because it’s quiet, it’s often overlooked. But it is real. A Closing Truth If survival shaped you, it’s not your fault. You adapted the way you had to. But you are not meant to live your entire life in adaptation mode. You are allowed to soften without losing strength. To rest without guilt. To live without constantly preparing for impact. You don’t need to become more. You need to feel safe enough to be. And that shift — from surviving to living — is not weakness. It is the most honest form of courage there is.
By Med Abdeljabbar4 days ago in Psyche
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