What if it isn't a mental illness?

What if you are just injured?

I continue to make my way through the opus that is The Myth of Normal, by the Mates. (It’s a lengthy one).

But I appreciate that he points out that there is no specific gene or way in which we can trace mental illnesses from one generation to the next. Yes, there are indicators that suggest it passes, but it’s not necessary due to genes, but can be due to unexplored trauma and childhood conditions and life experiences.

He writes:

“There is a stark paradox in all this. to the extent that we cling to the genetic fundamentalism to avoid the discomfort of personal responsibility or societal recknoning, we radically—and unnecessarily—disempower ourselves from dealing either active or proactive with suffering of all kinds. it is entirely possible to embrace responsibility without taking on the useless baggage of guilty or blame. Even more regrettable, we miss the excellent news that if our mental health is not dictated by our genes, then we are not their victims. On the contrary, there is much that we can do, each and all.”

I set with this because it represents my story.

I grew up being forewarned of my mother’s depression, major depressive disorder as well as her (and her sister’s) difficult time during postpartum depression.

In being prepared for that, I heard and internalized the message that I too would likely have to endure depression.

I understand the intention—that when I stopped sleeping and enduring major bouts of depression later in life—it really did seem that I had inherited this from somewhere.

And yet, I now look back on it with a very different lens.

I consider all the ways in which I was traumatized and subject to ongoing verbal and emotional abuse from my father and the instability and dysfunctional family I grew up in. This is not to blame my parents, who were traumatized and wounded and also suffering, but it is to acknowledge, validate and claim my own experiences that have shaped me.

I grow to think more and more that a great deal of mental illness is the result of unprocessed trauma. I marvel at how true that is for many and then how we are often times not told this, at least enough, for just how much it can matter.

Another point that Mate made was words from a doctor, Dr. Nail Kotbi who treated Hammond, the SNL star. He said to him:

“I don’t want you to call what you have a mental illness. You have been injured.”

That settled in me, deep, deep in my bones. A part of my body, my energy, my soul heard that.

It resonated and screamed—

Yes, me too!

You combine this with the fact that I think, by nature, I am pretty sensitive and emotional and empathetic. It’s how I am made. My zodiac—cancer—will confirm that these characteristics are true to my roots.

And also—

“The same ‘sensitivity’ genes that in a stressed environment can help potentiate mental suffering may, under positive circumstance, help promote stronger mental resilience and therefore happiness. Sensitive people have the potential to be more aware, insightful, inventive, artistic and empathetic, if their sensitivity is not crushed by maltreatment or disdain. The most sensitive of our kind have made some of the most lasting cultural contributions: many of these have also suffered the most intense pains during their lives. Sensitivity can be the quintessential combo package: gift and curse, all in one.”

That describes me, and my situation and life circumstances well.

It is both blessing and curse.

I am empathetic. I am injured. I was traumatized and all of those mean that I attracted and kept around a narcissist.

Sometimes my skin feels very thin, which I take here not to mean that I don’t have a backbone or strength or resiliency, because that is not true. But it is because I feel so deeply. My doctoral office mate referred to it as ‘my marshmallow heart’.

And yet, my sensitivity and suffering and experiences has also lended to greater compassion and resiliency and service to create a more loving and just world, whether thats through relationships with my students and how I teach, or how I show up for my friends and hold space for them.

I have a cousin of mine who has grappled with his ADHD and how to manage it and revision it. He has frequently said that, “It is my superpower.”

I am starting to agree with my trauma(s) and post-trauma growth.

It is my superpower, because of how I grew from it and how it had to remake me.

Crumble me to the very core, but then, it is not hyperbole to say, like that damn phoenix rising from the ashes, I lived again, even stronger.

I am injured. I have trauma. I am overly sensitive. I am empathetic and compassionate and feel so much and often, it feel like, much, much too deeply.

I am healing and I am recovering. I am strong and I am resilient.

All of these are true.