High functioning, but I get it done.

Warning: this post can be triggering, but we felt it important to share it exactly as the author intended it to be read.

High functioning, but depressed.

High functioning, but anxious.

High functioning, but I get it done.

My mental health is something that I have always, for lack of better word, struggled with. Something I have recently had to force myself to acknowledge. I wouldn't say I suffer with a mental health disorder but rather, I have experienced feelings of anxiety and depression at different moments in my life.

Being Black and Caribbean, anxiety and depression, and mental health in general, were not issues we discussed at the dinner table growing up, during the 6 o'clock news. We definitely had discussions, remarking  on the news stories, the meal, but never about how we were maintaining our mental health. In fact, I remember our mum telling us we had "nothing to be depressed about" during our teenage years. As far as she was concerned, we had never had it so good. A roof over our heads, food on the table, gas AND electricity.

We were fine.

And that's no shade to mum, this is a discourse which is prevalent across many households and generations. But the reality was, we weren't always fine.

I've spoken to many of my friends about this, and they agree that there exists a discourse around mental health being synonymous with sickness or being crazy in some families and cultures. And this goes back to generational differences in awareness and knowledge around mental health. However, just like we all have bodies, and physical health, we all have minds and mental health, which we must look after.

My experiences with poor mental health in adulthood stem from having not unpacked childhood trauma, feelings of not belonging or feeling out of place and struggling with my own identity vs. other people's perception of me, and just poor adult relationships.

Being part of a blended or reconstituted family, and not actively being able to acknowledge that has always made me feel out of place. More because it is something never really discussed, like a dirty secret, as opposed to the fact that I am indeed a stepchild (if you want to get into the semantics). Similarly, being passionate and opinionated, as a child and having this labelled as "attitude" - as opposed to something that could be positively nurtured - made me very self-conscious about how I am perceived, not being liked and not being seen how I wanted to be seen. By the time I hit 15/16, I spent less time hanging out socially with my friends in school, and more time learning to play chess in the library. Fast forward to sixth form and university, and I still hadn't found the voice that I had lost. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a mute but I definitely lost the passion and ‘opinionatedness’ I once had as a child. But, simultaneously, I still had high expectations of myself and my abilities.

I was, I am, anxious but articulate, self-conscious but confident. And this binary of feelings continues to give me a headache. Daily.

Being a black British, Caribbean woman, I have never felt that I was afforded the opportunity to express or unpack my mental health in a safe space. And I think this is very much part of my racialised experience. The intersections of my blackness and womanhood, and the stereotypes that come with that, means that often, black women are labelled angry, full of "attitude", aggressive, ill tempered, and illogical, and there is no empathy for black women (and black people on a wider scale) when it comes to mental health.

An ex-boyfriend once told me I suffered from bipolar disorder when I challenged his draining (and abusive) behaviour and the impact it was having on me. This guy  weaponised mental health in order to emotionally manipulate me. It's the abuse for me; and the audacity.

And, parents call you ungrateful when you call them out for the behaviour they exhibit which impacts your mental health and stupid for poor decisions made during spells of poor mental health. Where's the awareness?

So where is a good space, and when is a good time to address mental health?

In a space that's safe and at a time when you are ready and open to that conversation.

In the last two years, I have endeavoured to make a conscious effort to prioritise my mental health. The issue with me, is that even at my worst, I still get [insert s-word] done and so, I don't actually slow down enough to check in on myself or my mental health. But now, I'm slowing all the way down and giving myself, and my mental health, the attention we have long deserved.

Society, family, culture and everything in between will have us thinking prioritising ourselves and our mental health is selfish and wrong. But they're wrong.

There's no bigger priority than your mental health. Indeed, prioritising ourselves and our mental health is selfish but that's just the level of selfish we all need. It is ALWAYS the right thing to do.

And on that note, I think I'm almost ready to resume therapy…

Words & Image by Jamila Ayesha (@__jamilaayesha)