Privilege, Mental Illness and Learning Self-Compassion

Notes on mental illness: the conflict of privilege, diagnosis and being ‘sick enough’.

Words: Nora Harwood

Image: Hello Sunshine

“I’ve always known I wanted to write and I always knew I wanted to write about mental health. There is a clichéd quote which self-titled geniuses like to advise aspiring writers with 

 ‘Write hard and clear about what hurts.’ – Ernest Hemingway.  

And that is exactly what I have been doing, hurting. I have a constant over shadowing hurt in everything I see and do. I have no apparent reason as to why I hurt so much. I come from two loving, supporting parents who always provided me what I needed and wanted. I’ve always had a strong friendship group and, other than the odd snigger and whisper here and there, I managed to escape bullying. I have been lucky enough to remain in near perfect physical health my entire life excluding the minor illness and scrapes which are unavoidable even to the most cautious of us. 

 I’ve never been able to fathom or accept my hurt, and ever since my first battles in my early teens I have seen this hurt as my mind being a nasty, privileged, narcissistic beast. It has been blessed with no adverse conditions yet it continues to inflict this dull, aching mental hurt. 

To give context to the ‘hurt’, I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression since about the age of 12. It mainly presents itself in the form of a constant feeling of impending social catastrophe resulting in everyone I have ever loved hating me. In my early twenties I was diagnosed with ‘Social Phobia’ or as it is sometimes more commonly known as a ‘Social Anxiety Disorder’. However, the hurt is a shape shifter and occasionally comes to me in the form of weeping through a shift at work, or more commonly inflicting sleepless nights staring at the ceiling. I have lost count at how many sleepless nights have left me in a pool of existential crisis.

 Thankfully, the hurt can be managed. I’ve tried various medications with names far too long to remember (let alone spell) and I’ve spoken with some wonderful professionals who have assured me that although the hurt will never entirely leave me, it can co-exist inside me and be tamed next to happiness. 

 Although I can now see and accept this, I have struggled to escape the feeling I am too privileged to have the hurt. I’ve read, listened and watched so many beautiful, painful works of fact and fiction from people who have been inflicted with so much but still manage to go on with so much strength. Yet I, from such a privileged past, continue to hurt. It is a daily struggle for me to internally and externally accept my hurt for this very reason. 

Me, with my childhood, adolescence and young adulthood built on a foundation of love, support and acceptance… how am I entitled to hurt so much?

 The answer of course is simple. Mental health is not biased. Anxiety and depression doesn’t escape people from privileged backgrounds, the same way illnesses such as cancer don’t either. I am no less entitled to hurt than anyone else. Ultimately, my empathy has been fuelling my hurt and transforming it into guilt. In the recent social-political climate we’ve been living in, I feel the concept of privilege is something which, for good reason, is in our consciousness. We should be aware of how our own and other’s privileges effect our way of life, and should use this as a tool towards building one-another up. We should not feel guilty for what we have received as a result of who we are and where we come from, but use it to drive our support of others. I am as much not defined for having privileges as those who are not defined for their lack of. 

 After what has been a turbulent year for my mind and me, I have decided to see this as a point to start moving away from guilt, self-loathing and punishment and to accept what I really need – self-compassion. It’s become increasingly apparent that what is fuelling the hurt most is my lack of compassion and my inability to allow myself to openly feel what needs to be felt. I am not egotistical for needing to take time for myself, I am not selfish for having to say no to people and above all I am not a bad person for feeling vulnerable. 

Here’s to a life of unashamedly feeling the most incredible highs and the bitterest of lows in full, and whole acceptance of the hurt.”