Navigating Mental Health: My Part of Personal Journey

Navigating Mental Health: My Part of Personal Journey

You know, one of the toughest things for me to chat about is mental health. I used to keep it all to myself because I was super embarrassed about it, but then I figured out I’m not alone—it’s just that no one really wanted to talk about it with me.

Those two words alone seem to make people uncomfortable. Sometimes it feels like when you say “mental health,” people start avoiding you. Or, in this case, avoiding me.

I didn’t talk much about it growing up, but I’ve realized that mental health is important, especially because it runs in my family. On one side of my family, it has been very severe, with people who deeply needed help. From the stories I’ve been told, some of it was terrible. Compared to them, maybe I wasn’t as bad off, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t affect me.

For me, I had a rough childhood.

Mostly verbal abuse, bullying, nonstop teasing, and so many other things I could list here. I could name every single one, but that might turn this blog post from a few-minute read into hours and hours, and I’m pretty sure you have other things to do with your day.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am deaf, but not completely without sound. I wear hearing aids, and they pick up sounds from everywhere, including the humming of an A/C unit in a building or too many people talking at once. I grew up wearing hearing aids, many different kinds over the years.

The ones I have now are advanced enough to connect to my phone and other technology through Bluetooth. Mostly, I connect them to my phone because I enjoy music. I enjoy a lot of music, actually.

Anyway, I’m drifting off topic.

As a kid, I had old hearing aids called Auditory Trainers FM, a brown box with a strap around me, and the FM sat on my chest with a long wire going to my ear. The FM connected to the teacher’s microphone clipped onto their clothes, near the neck, so I could hear them. But they were so ANNOYING! Anyway, kids would make fun of me because of that, and another thing they made fun of me for was my voice. I called it a “deaf accent” because I sounded funny. There were a lot of words I couldn’t pronounce, which required me to have speech therapy.

Growing up in a harsh environment didn’t just mean dealing with people out in the world. I also mean family.

I grew up hearing constant negative feedback. I almost called it “negative praise,” but that sounds confusing because praise is supposed to be positive. So I’ll let you decide what to call it.

I saw so many things happen that a child should never have had to see. Everything I did felt wrong. If I spilled something on the table, something that could easily be cleaned up, I got yelled at. My mom is a saint, and she always tried to tell me not to worry about it or to ignore it. I also have an older brother, and we both grew up in that same environment. My mother lived through it too, and somehow, she got used to it. I still don’t know how.

For the last mumbles years, living through that created a voice in my head. A hard, nagging voice that constantly tears me down.

When I mess something up at work as a wiring specialist, like accidentally connecting the wrong color wires after crimping the connectors, I immediately start calling myself stupid or dumb. Even if it’s a fixable mistake, I get upset quickly.

When someone tells me I did an amazing job at something, my brain does something strange with it.

You know how a water filter is supposed to clean water and remove the nasty stuff we don’t want in our bodies? Well, my brain has a filter too, but it works backward.

A compliment goes in as something good, but by the time it comes out, it turns into the opposite.

“Oh, you did an amazing job,” becomes, “You didn’t do a good job today. It was terrible.”

Then my brain keeps going, breaking me down over something that was supposed to make me happy or proud. But when someone says something negative about me, there’s no filter at all. I just believe it.

Over the years, so many good compliments have turned into bad ones inside my head, and that has done a number on me.

I have a hard time writing.

Not because I don’t have ideas. If anything, I have too many ideas and so many stories I want to tell. The hard part is the feedback. Even good feedback can hurt because of that filter in my brain.

I’ve had some kind comments over the years, but I also remember one comment that really hit me in the gut. Someone told me it came from an online troll, but it still hurt. Knowing that didn’t magically make it disappear.

It becomes a constant battle with myself. My mind and I are struggling to open up more, but instead of helping me, my mind beats me up.

Most people don’t understand how many people are out there struggling without even realizing they have mental health issues, or whatever you want to call them.

Sometimes a day can start out really well, but halfway through, I become overstimulated. My brain starts to shut down, and I withdraw from everyone. It feels like my body doesn’t want me to have a good day.

But don’t I deserve one?

My brain says no.

It also feels like my mind is trying to protect me from having a good day ruined, but then it ruins the day anyway because of how my body and mind work.

I am very tuned in to my emotions. My thoughts can switch into dark mode very quickly. I can feel backed against a wall, trapped by the idea that everyone is pitying me, ashamed of me, or laughing at me.

Then I break down. I start beating myself up and telling myself I don’t fit here, I’m not worthy, and so many other things I don’t even want to repeat.

Take that feeling and multiply it by days, then months, then years, then the past mumbles years. Eventually, it grows into more branches of mental health struggles. It starts affecting my moods, my weight, and maybe even my headaches, which eventually turned into chronic migraines.

It also made me develop a mask that no one sees.

I managed to hide behind that mask for a long time, and no one really knew. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want people making exceptions for me because I was struggling. One of my friends eventually learned that I was trying to improve my mental health, but for a long time, I kept most of it hidden.

A few months ago, I made a choice.

I wanted to climb out of the hole I had been stuck in for so long. I wanted to start writing stories and sharing my experiences with people.

But now my brain is doing that thing again.

I start reconsidering this blog. I start wondering if I should tell these stories or write about my experiences at all. Because people will be able to read these open wounds, and some of them might say something disrespectful or cruel.

Then I start thinking, what if that makes me spiral into despair or depression?

That is where the internal conflict begins. I argue with myself and try to say it will be okay. If someone is disrespectful about it, that says more about their ignorance than it does about me. They probably don’t have a clue what it is like to live with mental health struggles.

I am not crazy. I’m not someone running around half-naked screaming nonsense.

People who struggle with mental health crises or mental health issues can experience them in different ways and at different levels. There are endless ways people deal with it. Mental health is a spectrum, and no two people experience it exactly the same way.

I may not look like I’m struggling from the outside, but my head is on 24/7.

I am constantly thinking.

• What if I accidentally break something and someone hates me for it?
• What if a man walks by and looks at me funny? Did I do something wrong to make him mad?
• What if I bump into someone by accident and it turns into a fight?
• What if I step on one side of a manhole cover and it flips, sending my big-boned body down into it, where I somehow get stuck?
• What if she doesn’t like me because I look funny?
• What if I text a friend and they don’t reply for a while? Does that mean they don’t want to talk to me anymore? Do they not like me now?

I know this might feel exhausting to read, but that’s the point. It is exhausting. It is constant. It is annoying. And it doesn’t just stop because I want it to. It is literally thousands of misconceptions and misunderstanding.

Even right now, I don’t know what you’re thinking about this post. I was surprised I even decided to share a little bit of this with you. I tried not to think about all the bad things that could happen from posting it.

But, well…

Too late.

I’m already thinking about them now.

Honestly, I gotta say, I’m not really into trying to be “normal” or anything like that. I mean, feeling stuff is super important since it helps me connect with others. I don’t wanna stop thinking so much either, even if my ideas are all over the place. What I really want is to kick this vibe of feeling unloved and unworthy, hiding away, and being ashamed—there’s a whole list of things I could mention! I guess I’ve got a long road ahead to become that awesome, happy-go-lucky guy like Kristopher, but deep down, I know I deserve it. I just need to find the right tools to help me be my true self.

Which gave me another idea for another post I could write.

If you find this relatable, please feel free to leave a message here. I’d love to discuss it without fear of backlash or judgment, so don’t hesitate to comment! I want to avoid feeling isolated or ashamed about what I’ve experienced. You can also ask me questions here, even if they are quite personal regarding mental health. Let’s keep the conversation respectful and meaningful.