On Labels

It took me a long time to realize that I have some sort of mental health problem (probably multiple sorts). The reason was that sure I felt anxious or sad much of the time. I knew that my dislike of social interactions wasn't (isn't) normal. I knew that most people aren't as moody, as difficult, as surly as I am.

But I didn't accept those labels, or rather apply them to myself because I didn't see myself as fitting close enough to the stereotypes (remember this is supposedly to be a conlanging blog so I was using that group as a reference). Sure I got sad, seemingly for no reason but not so debilitatingly as others. Even at my worse, I might only lying in bed for hours, not days. I have the control to do things I don't want to do like shower and go to class and eat. Clearly not depressed. Plus I do respond to positive stimuli, laugh and smile plenty (even in pretty depressive moods), mostly keep up my humor and so on. On the anxiety side, well yeah I get weird talking to people and push them away (especially if I like them as a friend or otherwise). But I like public speaking, hold myself well in groups and do genuinely enjoy the company of other people (in moderation of course). So clearly not actually anxious.

Building off that, feedback from other people also led to me feeling an imposter of sorts. I get a fair amount of praise from people about how I don't seem to care about others' opinions about me and one friend (when I opened up about some of my anxieties) even told me they had trouble believing it because of said nonchalance. Some of that is due to my general nonconformity but a good portion is actually because I do care a lot, so I pretend I don't to try (and fail) to trick myself. Or how I get praised for being somewhat jolly and being helpful, things not exactly associated with depression. So clearly those labels didn't apply.

Now to get to the actual title of this post. The labels don't matter. Whether or not I fit all the criteria for depression or dysthymia or cyclothymia or anxiety or whatever isn't important. What is important is the qualitatively, I feel bad. Maybe not as bad as other people but that doesn't matter. My own experiences are what matter for me. They influence my choices, my desires, my actions, my life. Labels neither define nor negate me. They're simply there. What's important is understanding what they are meant to signify. And that's what I've finally been able to do these past few months.