Voices

“I am never going to let you go – never. I know everything about you. I know what happened to you. I know who you really are. I know you are worthless and no one will ever love you!”

While he talked I tried to cover my ears and not hear the words. And I have heard this litany of abuse for years. For far too long, I have believed everything he said. I could never find peace as he always found me and told me again why I didn’t have any value for anyone.

I looked at him in the mirror – this person yelling the abuse at me was me. I picked up the rock and threw it. The glass shattered and the voice was silenced.

It was actually quiet. I had been waiting for too long to find peace. 

Like many people who struggle with anxiety and depression, or some other form of mental illness, the toughest obstacle is often inside. Those voices that are in our minds that tell us, in awful and horrific detail, how we are weak and not worth anything. No one else can hear them which can make it even more challenging to describe them and help others around understand them. 

And the voices are put there by others. I don’t think we are born thinking we are not worthy. The people around us, the ones who shape our environment, say things that can form an identity for us. It may not be intentional, or it may be, but those words stick and create the seeds for challenging our mental health. Even years later, the image I have of who I am is caught up in what others said.

For me, like others, my ongoing battle with mental illness was rooted in my childhood. As they say, me too. Some predator chose me to abuse. I was only eight and it went on for several years. I was told that I was ugly and unlovable, of no value to anyone. The words were said so many times I believed them. I went up into my head to pretend I wasn’t there. And then it was over. 

But I wasn’t free. I faced five years of intense bullying throughout my high school years. Whatever shred of self-esteem that remained was stamped out. Their voices were added to my mental image of who I was. I thought they knew what had happened and never said a word. I stayed up in my head. It was the only safe place I had.

I never told anyone around me as the words had struck home and I just didn’t think I was worth it. I didn’t think anyone would care or even have the time for me. I huddled further within myself and let my emotions and feelings slowly die off. I was weighed down with the guilt and shame from the belief that it was my fault – I had deserved what had been done to me.

Somehow I made it to university and reinvented myself with the help of alcohol and drugs. I told no one and put a mask on to be someone new. And that is when the bouts of depression started. Although I muddled along I actually graduated and got a job, a great one, a career where I could work hard to please others and do well. I put more masks on and wrestled with crippling anxiety but let no one ever see it. I didn’t let anybody really get passed the walls to know who I was as I didn’t want them to see who was there. I hated myself.

Over the years, the periods of depression kept coming and for the most part I could cover it all. I went to a series of a dozen or so therapists over the years and some helped but nothing reached me.

Finally, I hit the wall and it all came crumbling down. Experiencing a series of flashbacks and blackouts, I came face to face with my past and I fell hard. I loved my work yet found I didn’t have the energy any longer. I couldn’t be around people and I withdrew. I lost my business and felt that my life was draining away. I tried to end it but didn’t have the courage to go through with it.

And then I met Brad, my amazing therapist, who has patiently and proactively helped me look in that mirror and see me. He has actually cared about me and asked me tough questions to help me feel that I have value. To see that I had so many positive people around me who felt I was worth it. He showed me the progress when I slipped and listened, always listened, to me no matter what.

I cleaned the closet out, literally, and let the shame and guilt go – they didn’t belong to me – and came out as gay so I could actually live life as me. And it felt good.

And still the voices were there. Even in the last month, I felt the familiar fingers of depression start sinking into my shoulders. Yet something was different this time. I have put a lot of work into my mental health and have incredible friends who support me. I am an avid, almost obsessed, cyclist as well as hiking to get fit and active. I meditate to calm my mind and even started yoga – balanced body, balanced mind. 

Finally, I could look in the mirror. One of Brad’s question stuck with me, ‘who are you trying to please?’ And I stopped thinking that something or somebody would make me happy. I had been waiting too long and finally saw that happiness was inside of me. I have started down the road of being content with who I am, the character that I have and what I am doing with those strengths. For once, I felt the depression slide away before taking me down. And I know it is a journey. There will be further slides ahead but if I can just change the voices, I can change how I feel.

On this day, when everyone is talking, I wish for those struggling with mental illness to quiet those voices inside and hear the ones around them – saying how they are valued and worth love. That is something to talk about and many of us have been waiting too long.