Mental Health Week - My Friend Merle

To those of you who may not know, this week is Mental Health Week 2022. This is a topic that is very close to my heart. The truth is, everyone's experience of mental health varies wildly. Everyone's story is unique, and what my experience of this broad strokes term to be will be completely different from yours, your family and your friends. To be honest, I was reluctant to share my experience on a professional social media platform. But seeing as this is the "Crushing Life" platform where everyone portrays themselves to be highly successful in every aspect of their lives, I wanted to paint a picture without the gloss. It's behind the veneer that the real world occurs, and mental health needs to be talked about in real terms.

So you might be asking yourself, "Rich, who the hell is Merle?". Quite simply, he's someone I've lived with since I can remember. He's told me that my family hated me, that I was nothing, that every time I talked I embarrassed myself, and his personal favourite... that this would have been a better world if I had never been born. He's made me afraid that I would do nothing with my life, whilst simultaneously destroying any drive and energy from my body. Sometimes he was quietly whispering, sometimes a little louder, sometimes deafening - but always there.

His goal isn't to create sadness, or shame, or even fear... it's to create nothing. A feeling of nothingness, a void where emotions should be. Going anywhere near that void is truly dangerous, because those emotions includes the will to live. I have seen this twice in my life, and I am nothing but extremely lucky to be writing this to you today. With all that said, Merle still held on for the first 30 years of my life with a few attempts to be rid of him that were quite frankly half-hearted.

So why did I name my own internal monologue with clinical anxiety and depression "Merle"? He's named after a character from The Walking Dead, more specifically an episode where he appears as a figment in his own brother's head... trying to convince him to just lie down and accept his death. At it's worst, that is exactly how it feels. It is a battle that rages, and it leaves scars.

Recovery is not simple, it is not easy, and the effects of those scars can last a long time afterwards. Dealing with those marks on your mind is as vital as the recovery from the very worst of it. Medication, a supportive family and some wonderful people (along with four legged friends) in my life who have had to deal with my worst have helped me immeasurably. Meditation has also been something that feels like a little dose of therapy, a far cry from years of self-medicating. There are so many amazing groups, therapies, websites, apps and support out there. What works for me is just what worked for me, but there is something out there for everyone.

Writing about something deeply personal is usually a rags to riches story, how you overcame and overnight became a completely different person. Maybe that does happen sometimes, and if that's happened to you I am genuinely delighted that your story concludes with such triumph. What I'm saying is that this is the exception to the rule, not the rule itself. What I'm saying is that the war behind the eyes can last a long time, and it's ok if you're struggling. What I'm trying to say to anyone going through their own inward battle is this -

If you want to talk, I want to listen to you... and your Merle.