On my post that I wrote about how I plan to change my life, I received a comment. It went EXACTLY like this,
“This may be a dumb question, but as I was reading this blog, I noticed something.
You say you are a hypochondriac, then u list OCD, Anxiety, depression etc, being a hypochondriac it would be natural to check off yes to 99% of the question on that survey, wouldn’t it?
As an APRN I don’t wish any medications on anyone,unless it absolutely necessary. Nowadays addiction is so common, I try to limit certain medications.
I just hope your doctor is aware, because being hypochondriac is a major factor.” While this didn’t OFFEND me in any way, it did inspire me to think about labels in regards to mental health.
This blog chronicles my life, and along with that I share about my mental health struggle. I share so someone else can look and see and maybe relate. Maybe they too worry about dying from some disease. Or maybe they can’t go to bed at night because they worry about what will happen in the future. Someone else might be concerned that their butt is crossed over the sexy line to too big (if there is such a thing). Maybe they love cats and their kids, have a messy house and messy lives. Maybe they can find something in this, so they feel less alone. That is my true hope. I do not share ALL of my life. Or all the details of my appointments. That would be incredibly boring. I just give you the juicy tidbits. But I will say this, for those of you who may be worried that I am actually manifesting that I have a mental illnesses because of the fact that I am a hypochondriac…… I wish I was. I joke about being severely depressed because it is what I do. It is one of my coping mechanisms. I call myself a couch lump because saying that I have no energy to get off of the couch or shower just isn’t as fun. Therapist have given me lots of labels, etc. My LABELS are just that. Something for them to write down to bill insurance companies. In truth, they criss-cross over each other, jumble up, and make a mess, just like life does. They do not define me as a person. They are a piece of me, and I tell you now, because I share so openly, I do not think any question to be dumb. But I beg of you to not spend your time worrying about whether or not I am being overdosed on anti-depressants. I am not at risk for any addiction, except for maybe the new Pokemon go app. My doctor is aware of my story. Those labels are more complex than just the words I write down and don’t fit into a properly labeled box. They don’t define me, but they do offer a bit of insight. They show that I have struggled, and I have looked straight in the face of ugliness and trauma, and I am still here. I am a constant work in progress, always reflecting and growing myself. I am strong. I am not ashamed of any of it. I write so you see that people with mental illness are people that are just like you and people you know. We so often see extreme cases where medicine doesn’t work or isn’t taken and the aftershocks surrounding that. Then people shake their heads and talk about mental health with fear. But more often than not it is just a label. A word that makes up a tiny part of a person. Maybe they need medicine, maybe they need compassion, but they very rarely need judgement.