Due To Your Mental Health

It should come as no surprise why I was denied my reapplication for life insurance. The words, so coldly written, without a thought behind it: “your request has been denied due to your mental health.”

Due to your mental health.

Do you know what causes me stress, depression, and anxiety? Not having life insurance. That causes me depression and anxiety. It is the year 2022, and we still cannot truly share who we are with the world. We still have these stigmas. We still have to hide diagnoses, because it really isn’t accepted. It really isn’t ok. We say it is, but it’s not. This angers me.

I consider myself an advocate for mental health and well-being, here I encourage others to speak up and out, but now I turn to myself and reconsider hiding my issues- for what? Life insurance? Please explain to me, that when I’m killed in an auto accident and have no life insurance that my girls cannot be beneficiaries to, how in the world THAT relates to my mental health.

So basically, if you want to live like normal people in life, you have to pretend to be normal in life. I’m not okay with pretending to be okay. I’m not okay. I struggle every single damn day, but I am doing something about it. I am getting help, I am trying to be better, and what do I get? Punished. What a sad, sad world we live in.

Due to your mental health. I wonder who typed up that letter. Probably an administrative assistant who typed as her boss told her. Not thinking what impact those words might have on someone who deals with mental illness. To her, cold and meaningless, but to me heart-shattering and relentless.

Due to your mental health.

Well let me let you in on some of my mental health, once more.

Depression. Everyone’s depression comes in different forms. I have tons of forms it comes in, but I want to specifically talk about organization and life at home. My house. Complete chaos. A mess. Filth. We live in a tornado-struck, poverty-looking home. I have no desire to clean. I have no desire to do laundry. I have no desire to do dishes. I have no desire to do anything except look at the mess and feel embarrassed. Do I have the motivation to do anything about it? Nope! I may start a load of laundry with the intention of putting it in the dryer, folding it, and putting it away… but in all reality, I know that putting it in the washer and turning it on is as far as I’ll get.

Do I tell myself I will get up out of the recliner and put my plate and fork in the sink after my show is over? Yeah, I can tell myself that, but I know I won’t do it. I don’t want to do. It exhausts me thinking about doing it. I can’t explain it to you. I know you think it’s being lazy, I understand that. Maybe it is. But it’s also the voice in my head saying whatever, who cares. It’s just one more thing to add list of failures for the day. My bedroom floor is completely covered in clothes. Some clean, some dirty, some brand new still with tags. Why brand new with tags? Because in my manic state, I shop. Spending money makes me feel good. For a short while. But then the items just add to the mess. The mess in my bedroom and the mess in my life.

Some days it’s an achievement if I put one thing away. Just one. Those make-up sponges that have been sitting on the kitchen table for three weeks- maybe I’ll put them in the bathroom cabinet today, and maybe I won’t. It’ll just be three weeks and one day, no big deal.

The 18 pairs of shoes on the dining room floor, move them? Where? To my closet that is piled a mile high full of clothes with tags still on them? Just transferring the mess. Oh well, who cares.

I know how this sounds to normal people. I do. Once again, I can’t explain it. It’s so overwhelming and I don’t even know where to start. There is no good place to start, so I just don’t. And that’s the chaotic mess of my life.

But the positive note to leave on is both literal and metaphorical. I donated to a scholarship fund and in return received a new bicycle. For me, not the girls. Said bicycle came home last night and the girls were so excited to see me try to ride it. First of all, it is never “just like riding a bike.” I’ve not been on a bike probably since I was 15 years old. I did fall over in the gravel, I did forget how to brake on the hill, and I did make a complete fool out of myself. I did however, get back on the bike and kept trying; my girls cheering me on the whole time. Literally they were cheering for me to ride that bike, but to me, they were cheering me on in life. This bike really is the perfect metaphor for my life and my struggle. My calves are killing me today and I might have a minor scrap on my left knee, but I didn’t give up and my girls saw me ride that bike down the road and back home. All in all… due to my mental health.

So suck on that, Country Financial.