Good Person/Bad Person: a Nutshell of Living with Complex Mental Illness.

A friend remarked to me, "How can anyone dislike you?" I responded, "It's quite simple. I'm not always pleasant. I can be contentious, self-centred, arrogant, and undoubtedly opinionated. In fact, I often embrace being unpopular because it signifies my willingness to stand up for my principles and values. Power often resists the truth." Or something along those lines… haha

Perception is a complex matter. Frequently, we assess both others and ourselves solely based on surface actions, without delving into the intricate narratives lying beneath – the layered stories we all carry and the context in which we find ourselves at a particular moment in time. I have certainly been judged by numerous individuals based on a single interaction in a given moment and within the context in which it occurred.

Naturally, there are people who harbor feelings of animosity or suspicion towards me, or perhaps a combination of both. Such sentiments are rooted in perceptions formed in a moment in time – perhaps, maybe, over several moments – but always within a specific context, and never maliciously.

Essentially, I have long wanted to delve into the fallacy of the "good person, bad person" perception, exploring my personal journey with chronic mental illness, instances of losing my temper with loved ones, causing them pain and stress, and the profound process of personal growth while grappling with complex mental health issues.

In our very polarised society, we tend to categorise individuals as either "good" or "bad" based on a variety of factors, whether it be a social media post, a comment, an email, or a personal encounter. (re Dave Chappelle’s comedy piece on this, brilliant).

This black-and-white viewpoint is especially detrimental when trying to understand those of use living with chronic mental health challenges. Chronic mental illnesses are often invisible, making it challenging for others to empathise or even recognise the suffering someone might be enduring. I, too, was not immune to this fallacy at a moment in my life.

Mental illness is a relentless, cruel, adversary. It is the most agonising pain I have ever experienced, sneaking into my life without care or discrimination. My journey with it began as a consequence of my PTSD, manifesting as a persistent sense of angst that gradually intensified due to numerous interactions influenced by my illness. Despite having a loving family and a supportive circle of friends, I frequently found myself overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness and despair.

One of the most arduous aspects of coping with chronic mental illness is its impact on relationships. While battling my own terrors, I sometimes unleashed my frustration on the people I cared for most. Yelling, anger, and frustration became my coping mechanisms as I struggled to manage overwhelming emotions, or at times, a lack of emotion. Perhaps I could see the pain in their eyes, yet I felt powerless to restrain myself.

My actions obviously took a toll on all my relationships. Those I held dearest had to bear the brunt of my emotional turmoil, inflicting pain upon them. I could, I think, at times, discern the agony I was causing, but it felt like an unstoppable force I couldn't rein in or perhaps, did not want to, in that moment of cathartic pain. The ensuing guilt and shame only deepened my depression, perpetuating a vicious cycle that proved challenging to break.

Living with mental illness is an arduous journey, one that demands self-awareness, support, and resilience. I came to the realisation that I could not continue down the path prompting me to seek help, initially from devoted friends and family, and eventually through psychotherapy and psychedelic treatment under my psychiatrist (ketamine infusions every 6-weeks, my last resort). The last resort.

Living with complex mental illness is an ongoing, minute by minute, process. There are good days and bad days, good moments and bad moments, and setbacks that are an inherent part of the journey. Nevertheless, I have come to accept that my mental health struggles are a facet of my identity, but they do not define my worth or character.

?The misconception of the "good person" perception can be detrimental, not only to those who pass judgment but also to those who are judged. My journey, encompassing mental illness, emotional outbursts, causing distress to loved ones, and personal growth through these experiences, has taught me that genuine understanding and compassion require us to look beyond superficial actions and see the individual beneath the struggles.

?Seeking help, expressing one's views, experiencing mental anguish, and sometimes challenging authority are signs of strength, not weakness. Together, we can dismantle the stigma surrounding mental health and extend support and empathy to those who need it most.

?Ultimately, it's not about being labelled as a "good person" or a "bad person," but about embodying the qualities of a compassionate and understanding human being who is willing to grow.