The Demons in Me

Prolog

Currently, I am a volunteer in a program called workaway and the family I am helping has four boys. They are quite interesting and a couple of days ago, the second-oldest, 13 years old, asked me a simple, but tricky question. 

"Have you ever been to therapy?"

I thought for some seconds. No, I answered. You, I asked. He shrugged and we both kept on frying the dumplings we were making. After a minute or so he calmly explained, that he'd been to therapy many times and that it's kind of a regular, ordinary appointment in his family, especially since the oldest was diagnosed with depression.

I was taken aback.

There it was. The one thing, so ordinary in this family, that maybe could have saved me when I was his age. Maybe. Who knows.

As it turns out, 1 in 5 U.S. adults experience mental illness each year, but only 43,3 % of U.S. adults with mental illness received treatment in 2018 (*1). There are several reasons why less than half of the people who are in need of treatment actually receive it. There is money and access, of course. However, 23 % of U.S. adults somewhat agree that people with mental health issues can deal with it on their own, 9 % strongly agree and only a third (32 %) strongly disagrees.(*2). This implicates that certain people with mental health issues do not seek professional help, because they do not want to. It pains me to admit I was one of them. It turned out to be okay for me, but I know friends who struggle by themselves. There is Dan. He is a twin and really skinny. While his sister is envied for her body shape, he is bullied because of it. He has severe body dysmorphia and is insecure in everything he does, yet he does not want to go to a doctor, because he is ashamed. I am one of four people who knows his secret. He told me how he suffers and I try to help him as much as I can, but after all, I am no psychologist, I have not studied, I am just a girl who struggles herself. I often wish he and all the others would go to therapy. Sometimes I wish I had, other times I am proud of myself. Which makes me technically a hypocrite, I know.

When I went to bed that night I remembered that I had indeed visited a psychologist once, but this had functioned as a diagnosis, when my mother realised what was going on in me. The war I had fought against myself at that point for almost three years had already tired my body and my mind and I had long crossed the point of no return. Simply put, it was too late for me. The demons had already set foot inside my head.

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*1: NIMA: Mental Health By The Numbers. 2019

*2: Elflein: U.S. adults' opinions on if mental health issues need treatment as of 2018. 2018