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I long for a world where mental illness is no longer a shameful taboo, where anyone can talk about any symptom without being judged, and any step towards that is something to be celebrated earnestly. But the truth is, and I judge myself for it, I am jealous of the way people with certain illnesses can be open about them and the response society has to them. All mental illnesses are horrible, they can all be devastating and we should never try and promote one by diminishing another. I would never wish to have depression, or anorexia nervosa - anorexia has one of the highest mortality rates of all mental illness and it's a horrendously cruel disorder - but there is a part of me that longs for the response people get when they find the courage to be open about their struggles. They are (rightfully) inundated with messages about their strength, their courage, how proud people are and I long for that after years of living in suffocating shame at my aberrant symptoms. 

Of course it is a double-edged sword for people with these illnesses - people are more accepting of these disorders because they exist just outside society's norm (who hasn't felt sad, anxious, or wanted to be slimmer?) but that also means they make more assumptions, misunderstand the complexities of them and are more likely to be diminutive of them.

But oh, how I could imagine opening up to my friends and family about the fact I've battled self harm since the age of 11. How I wish I could talk about my past experiences with dissociation and the abject fear that things in the dark were coming to get me. The rage that builds up, the absolute and uncontrollable despair that being left or ignored by people can cause. The fact that I can feel suicidal one minute and then positively ecstatic the next, or the fact that some times it's a struggle to  get out of bed and then all of a sudden I feel like I can take on the world. The fact that there are multiple versions of me and I don't know how to mould them into one, whole person. The fact that sometimes it feels like my personality changes with the song I'm listening to. That I've gone days without eating because I feel empty, like there is nothing inside of me but ticking clockwork. The fact that I rip my hair  out even when I wish I could stop. The fact that the worst thing about every relapse I've ever had is the undeniable sense of how good it feels. Because that's the thing, isn't it? We tell people how awful we feel, how hopeless we feel - and it's true - but we keep that little moment to ourselves, right before the reality sets in, that moment where it brings nothing but relief and satiation. That is the ultimate taboo. That's what we can't talk about.

My anxiety is awful and I hate when people downplay it, but I don't fear rejection when I talk about it. I blame everything on "anxiety" because I know I will be judged less for that than any of my other illnesses. And I hate myself for feeling this way, because I know how tough living with mental illness is, regardless of what diagnosis you've had slapped on your file, but I just wish we weren't separated into camps by society on what is deemed "brave", "acceptable" and "unacceptable". I can't help but think my struggles might be slightly easier if I wasn't judged for talking about them, and I wish I could feel differently but I don't and it is eating away at me day by day.

I'm sorry, I know this isn't okay, that I am a bad advocate and I wish I could change it but I can't, and it is making me resentful and angry at the world. I am sick of society dictating how we should act and feel, and seeing our illness as a choice or failing, or that we are "too crazy" or "freaks". It is hard enough living with it as it is. So please do not stop your push for mental health awareness with the more palatable disorders, and push for everyone across the world of mental ill health.

"What on Earth is that?"

That was the question on my mind when my psychiatrist told me that I had "some" Cyclothymia in the mix with my anxiety and borderline traits.

I nodded along and then as soon as I left the office I googled "Cyclothymia".

Cyclothymic Disorder (Cyclothymia) is a mood disorder on the Bipolar spectrum (but symptoms do not reach the diagnostic threshold for Bipolar Disorder I or II). It is characterised by the chronic cycling (at least two years) between low mood / depressive episodes and hypomania - "high" moods that can involve feeling euphoric, full of energy, productive but can also cause irritability, restlessness and a feeling of anxiety (click here for more information on Mind's website). 

Sources seem to vary on this very underdiscussed disorder - the NHS website characterises it as "mild" but also warns it has the potential to develop into Bipolar Disorder if left untreated. This leaves me with questions - comments, really - such as why does nobody talk about this? and who on Earth is characterising this as "mild"? 

Perhaps it's the added on borderline, but to me, my cyclothymia is not "mild"; my lows are very low and my hypomania isn't all fun and productivity, often it leaves my mind racing in a way that rivals my anxiety. It's definitely not as disruptive as Bipolar Disorder, but why does this mean that it can be reduced to something barely worth mentioning? Between my "baby" bipolar and borderline traits, I feel like I've scrounged together just enough symptoms, pain, and difficulties to actually merit having a diagnosis that isn't shrugged aside. Do I have enough points for my diagnosis to matter yet? Am I even allowed to complain about Cyclothymic Disorder if it's not as bad as other disorders, something the NHS website puts rather a fine point on? 

Other resources (such as Bipolar UK and Mind) do characterise it as a form of Bipolar Disorder, even if it's not quite at that threshold, as they consider it to be on the bipolar spectrum. I've taken to telling people I have "mild form of bipolar"  (which seems disingenuous) because nobody knows what the heck Cyclothymic Disorder (or Cyclothymia) actually is.  

There might be people out there that can't understand why this actually matters, but this is the exact point of Mental Health Awareness Week -  it's difficult to talk about something, access treatment for it and reduce stigma if we don't know what it is.

My psychiatrist breezed past that term like it was inconsequential, but it's not to me. It's important to me, it is a part of me, and that part deserves to be recognised on its own instead of being overlooked or overshadowed.

So if you're like me, struggling to talk about your diagnoses in a society that doesn't know about them or understand them, struggling to feel like your disorder(s) is even worth discussing in a community full of so many struggles that seem so much worse than your own, I see you. I am writing this post for you, for me, for anyone with a disorder that nobody talks about, for anyone feeling like their struggle isn't valid. 

We deserve a space too.