No one remains unaffected by mental health disturbances. Yet, when you or a loved one encounters struggles, it frequently feels as though you’re isolated in obscurity, seeking illumination. In recognition of World Mental Health Day, we are sharing a compilation of essays, commencing today and extending through the weekend, that explore this subject from a personal viewpoint. We hope these pieces provide understanding into the numerous ways individuals face challenges, and how they can emerge from them with respect and elegance.
My dental specialist lately informed me that my gums were in good condition. An observation unremarkable to most, yet for me, it induced a wave of relief and happiness. Exiting her clinic, I felt the urge to message someone about her comments before realizing that even my closest companions would likely just feign interest in my gums.
A dentist informed me nine years prior, when I was 27, that the bone levels on the lower left side of my mouth had already decreased to those normal for a 50-year-old, owing to persistent inflammation and disease. Apparently, “lifestyle factors” were to be blamed. The lifestyle in mention? It involved taking sick leave from my office position, lying on a mattress on the floor of my rented room in south east London (a flatpack bed frame remained in its unopened box in the corner) for extended periods, occasionally rising to smoke a poorly crafted roll-up cigarette or, when things were dire, to consume my housemate’s wine from the fridge straight out of the bottle before collapsing back into the same dismal spot where I’d spent the preceding week. Indeed, I failed to brush my teeth frequently enough. I also became severely deficient in vitamin D. It remains on my medical records. Severe depression, gender identity issues, vitamin D deficiency. As the TikTok kids put it, it’s giving vampire vibes.
To have weathered a significant depression is to be eternally shadowed by it. Despite being many years beyond the last episode, a single unfortunate day, perhaps due to hormones or low spirits during the coldest part of January, suffices to spark fear of being pulled back by my heels. Depression exposes one’s own mind as a double agent, a foe within. How do you ever entirely reconcile with it again? Similar to a marriage facing betrayal, trust might never be fully restored. Would I withstand another cycle?