World Mental Health Day was this past Sunday, and I’d initially planned to post this then, but true to the fact that the universe appreciates good irony, the state of my mental health delayed my publishing. However, I’m of the mind that we should be focusing on mental health every day, not just on “awareness” days, so in that sense, it’s precisely on time.
Previously in this newsletter, I’ve generally avoided talking about myself outside of the scope of working on my research. I plan to more or less maintain this compartmentalization in the future (mainly because I have other avenues of writing about more personal topics). Still, I think there are no bad times or places to comment on mental health. It’s wrapped up in everything we do and everything we are, and we all have it, regardless of the state it’s in.
People (somehow) still commonly hold the misconception that mental illness is an affliction that successful, accomplished people are protected against. That is patently untrue and can lead people to hide their struggles out of shame and embarrassment - “how could I be feeling this way when I have everything going for me?” If more people around us who we look up to, in our family, our workplaces, and elsewhere in society, talk openly about their mental health, the practice will trickle down, resulting in a more open attitude when it comes to discussing mental health difficulties.
Even my grandpa had occasional struggles with his mental well-being, and I’ve found frank writings saying as much in his journals and correspondence. In a 1946 letter to his mother and brother, he writes:
I was in one of my periodic slumps last week - but everything has straightened out now. Hadn’t been getting along with the Bulletin and was rather discouraged. Letters of commendation have been coming in about the one on tree—shrub forms - so I’m feeling better. Mrs. Watts almost doubled our subscription list while I was gone - and I have been worried as to whether or not I could keep it at its present high level.
I’ve used part of this letter excerpt before, in this issue about May Watts, but with the beginning part omitted. I’d debated whether to include it in that post and ultimately decided against it in order to focus more strongly on the topic at hand. But I think in the form above, it shows a more complete picture - depicting what his worries centered around.
Although some entries are less explicit about the state his mood was in, there are relatively frequent entries like these two from 1932:
Dinner at T Room by myself. Evening in my room. Tired. Discouraged.
Raining + disagreeable all day. Didn’t feel like going to the office - so spent all day in bed. Maude had made me a lunch the nite before.
As someone who lives with mental illness, discovering that my grandpa also faced challenges related to his mental health was incredibly relieving and connecting. That’s the thing with disorders of the brain; it’s nearly impossible to convey the experience of living with it every day to someone who has never experienced it themselves. I think that’s why we’ve developed shorthand connections to various emotions: depression = sadness, bipolar disorder = happy then sad then happy again, an anxiety disorder = feeling anxious, mania = too happy, or like you’ve had a few too many cups of coffee. But these emotional touchpoints belie the actual experience of these illnesses. They are so much more than the universal emotions we’ve reduced them to.
To return briefly to my own mental health - working on this newsletter, connecting with my grandpa and his work, and spending more time outside (specifically at the Arboretum), has been a boon. The combination of fresh air, sunlight, and being surrounded by nature is excellent for my mental well-being. I think most of us have a general sense that nature makes us feel good, but a great deal of science actually backs up that conclusion.
I hope you’re able to spend some time outdoors in the coming days, taking in as much as possible before the weather and daylight shift (shoutout to anyone else who struggles with SAD). If you don’t live with a mental illness yourself, may I recommend that you take time to learn more about the lived experiences of those who do? Here are some resources I’d recommend, which I’d recommend equally enthusiastically to people living with a mental illness:
The Depresh Mode newsletter by John Moe - also a wonderful podcast
It’s currently OCD Awareness Week! Check out the International OCD Foundation’s website to learn more about what OCD actually is and how to support people with OCD (like me!) during our awareness week (and every week)
This Hyperbole and a Half comic depicts depression perfectly and in a way that is funny and relatable as heck.
The DBSA (Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance) is a fantastic org staffed by excellent people. I had the pleasure of interning with them a few years back. They offer so many fantastic resources for people with mood disorders.
Returning to comics, here’s an artist who depicts what it’s like to live with ADHD.
Please feel free to share resources you’ve found helpful or thoughts about how mental health and nature intersect in the comments!
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Thank you, Sarah. This hit home for me in more than a few places...
Where you mention the language used to convey mental health, I often think it gets reduced down to a scale similar to that of weather, with the implication of "oh well, the sky might be blue tomorrow!" (which makes it much easier for other people to deal within converstion, with a cheery comment & a neat answer that "fixes the problem") - whereas it's actually much more akin to climate, or at the very least seasons - a longterm thing with no easy answers or turn-on-a-dime wins. Explaining how that feels, in a way that gets across to others, is hard work. Better language is needed. And more time spent really listening to people who are struggling...
(My backstory: my late Ma was a very strong personality, and from around 2010 onwards suffered from dementia. Dealing with that meant me mostly stepping back from writing for a while, mainly because I just couldn't summon up the enthusiasm for it, with a big cost to my own mental health. Now that chapter of my life is over, I've had the privilege to be able to return to writing, including starting my own Substack, and as in your case, it's really helped me get my hopefulness back on track. Writing is excellent self-therapy.)
Re. Nature's effect on our health, if you haven't read, I can thoroughly recommend "The Nature Fix" by Florence Williams - she really dives into it: http://www.florencewilliams.com/the-nature-fix