Jan. 30 marked the eighth installment of Bell Let’s Talk Day, and the results were record breaking – $7.2 million raised through 145.4 million social media interactions. Celebrities from Justin Trudeau to Seth Rogan to Ellen DeGeneres posted the #BellLetsTalk, garnering attention and funding for Canadian mental health programs. Each year when Let’s Talk hits, I find myself hesitantly optimistic at the possibility of people understanding what mental illness is. I have lived with mental illness since at least the age of 12, and I’ve faced my share of well-meaning loved ones telling me to “be happy” or “let go of the past,” and “you can’t be depressed, you seem fine.” Over the years, I’ve come to realize this “advice” does not come from a place of malice, but from a lack of knowledge and personal experience. In an effort to better explain my illness, I’ve been exploring what depression is for me. It’s hard work and it takes me to a place inside myself I don’t like to visit, but it is important to me. My depression is not just sadness – I don’t often cry, and I feel more alone and broken than sad. I am sad, but sadness is not the overwhelming feeling that holds me hostage. No, my depression is more a cold emptiness that overtakes my hopes, plans and ambition and leaves me in an endless loop of hating myself and my life, and seeing no way out. I want to be happy. I want to "get over" my past, but my brain is trained to make me believe everything is my fault. When things go even slightly wrong, my brain's first reaction is to burden me with guilt – I’m to blame, I deserve to be miserable. My depression has taught me to accept mistreatment, because my brain tells me I am not worthy of love and I should be happy that anyone gives me the time of day. Sometimes, it feels like the hopelessness fills me to the brim, but I’m so good at putting on the mask of wellness, it’s almost as if I’ve physically forgotten how to cry. That sets me into a panic because I know if I could just release, I could breathe again. It feels like I need to cut myself wide open to let the pressure out. Here’s the thing, though – I’m not ready to give up. I keep fighting and I use my limited voice in the hope others will continuing fighting, too, and not feel so broken and alone. So, if you don’t understand how a person can’t just “buck up and get over it,” I implore you to educate yourself and show some empathy. Let’s Talk is a marketing tool at the heart of it, but with more than $100 million raised since its inception, it’s one that might actually make a difference.
