[Insert Name Here]

In journalism, sources anchor what lies between quotation marks. Anonymous sources don’t cut it. Without ownership, a quote’s claim, accusation or emotion loses impact. While circumstances at times warrant anonymity, [good] journalists strive to live by a code of attribution. Nails on the chalkboard do not compare to the words “off the record.”

Most of what I’ve learned about journalism—from the power of attribution to the beauty of word economy—has come from my father. Within his stories, I’ve witnessed the human voice emerge among the facts, figures and leads. I’ve learned that the human element depends on the bond built between the journalist and the source. The former needs a name to tie to the story, and the latter needs the assurance that his words will remain his own. When the relationship works, the two can tell a story that can captivate an audience and, in some cases, move it to action. Part of that power comes from a name that makes a quote seem more human—more ‘real.’

The emphasis I’m placing on authorship concerns the work we’ve done with Open Heart, Open Mind. Unnamed authors have written about half the pieces we’ve published. It’s a choice we leave to the writer. The fact that they are sharing their story is more than I could ask. Given my feelings about attribution, however, I initially felt that identifying the author would, by default, be more powerful:

What’s the point of sharing these stories without naming the writer?

The answer: Quite a bit, in fact.

We began this project with the belief that a common thread exists among individual accounts of mental illness. A handful of submissions later, I feel we’re beginning to see the stitching that binds them. As I read the essays, their singular voices merge into a different kind of unnamed author—human experience. We’ve been fortunate to receive an impressive variety of submissions, and yet, the same themes—trial, alienation, resilience and so on—emerge again and again. No matter the author, these stories seem to draw from the same source of emotion and insight.

This hidden unity speaks to what we have to gain from sharing our experiences with each other. Imagine your amazement when you pull a secret paragraph from your personal history and discover that the person sitting in front of you recognizes how that part of your story fits into his life. Seeing yourself in the life of another; that’s when understanding takes place.  Anonymity contains a bit of that magic. It affirms that human experience exists without a sole owner, and because of that, we have the chance to realize the inherent connections we share.

Anonymous or otherwise, the stories we seek to share emerge with a significant helping of courage. Quite a few of the writers for OHOM have expressed their concern that their experiences won’t be viewed as “legitimate” or “believable.” That has never been the case, but I cannot blame them. I held the same fear when I first opened up to those close to me. Will they take me seriously? Will be viewed as a reliable ‘author’? I just wanted to be recognized. Scratch that, I wanted my experience to be recognized. Within the scope of our project, that recognition requires both stories written with a named author and those without. The former confirms that these narratives come from the very people we know, and the latter celebrates the collective nature of human experience.

Whether you choose to attach a name to your story, know that your voice will be heard. With mental illness, the “what” is always more important than the “who.”

But more importantly, by sharing a part of your life, you prove that so many others are not alone.

And for that, I thank you.

-Jake Morgan, editor of Open Heart, Open Mind 

 

Call to Action

What can people who are depressed do to take a step in the right direction?

Talk with your friends openly.

Stay active and do not dwell in the confines of your own thoughts.

Realize that your thoughts are irrational.

Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable.

Have friends who care tell you that you are being irrational, which can be so helpful to hear from objective and outside parties. Having someone put your irrational thoughts puts life into perspective and eventually helps to convince you that everything will be okay.

What can thoughtful friends do to help others?

Do not judge others, but instead attempt to understand.

Encourage inclusion.

Give people time.

Depression cannot be immediately remedied, and there is no solution. When someone is depressed, the most exquisite experiences in life are dull and difficult to appreciate. Delicious food seems mundane, and existence drags on. Tell them that people value them for who they are. Tell them that given time, the beauty of life will eventually break through your fog of disillusionment.

Depression and mental illness are swept under the rug too often. Talk of mental difficulties and emotional disorders are taboo and judged unfairly. We as a community should try to be there for each other and help the people that are struggling most. For that to happen, there needs to be open dialogue regarding mental and emotional health.

Lets begin that discussion.

– ’15 OU Alumnus

Anxious

Anxious: a word all too common to the average person. Everyone has felt anxious, but have people really felt anxious? This word took on a different meaning to me after I learned I was dealing with anxiety. This can be as innocuous as reading my emails ten times before I send them because I was convinced I misspelled something wrong or left something out. Or as severe as having a panic attack because I had no idea, at the exact moment, about how I would accomplish anything on my plate. I sit in the middle with having to know exactly what my future plans are.

Anxiety, for me particularly, was the fear of messing up. It was always fearing letting everyone down. And I felt like if I wasn’t hanging out with everyone and doing well in school while working 15-20 hours a week, I was failing. Obviously doing all three of these things isn’t necessarily impossible, but trying to do everything well at the same time isn’t ideal or even healthy. When I did mess up, which as one can guess was often, I would take it so personally. I took beating myself up (metaphorically) to a new level. I near bullied myself and thought I could berate myself into being productive. I became obsessed with being consistent, but I set myself up to never be consistent.

Like any college student, I just thought I was getting stressed out. And I was stressed out, often. That comes with trying to get a degree. But it became different. It turned into situations where any little failure felt like my life was going to fall into shambles. This leaked into all areas of my life. Whenever I felt like I failed with a potential romance or being a good friend, I would think for hours about everything I could do different. Any time I messed up or fell short at work, I would take it too personally. There were extremely rough times, particularly prior to when I went public about my struggles. Finals weeks were a nightmare. Not because I didn’t prepare, but I tricked myself into feeling unprepared. In any case, anxiety is something I’ve now learned to manage. I think I do it well, but it’s all still a continuing journey.

My journey continues by finding my own identity. That is, my identity in the present and not the future. I use writing, specifically poetry, to express myself in public and private. I try to at least observe and enjoy things just for the fun of it. I read for pleasure now. Being proud of reading for pleasure sounds silly, but when you get so used to reading to gather information, it’s a refreshing feeling to read for pleasure. I try to run, and watch Netflix. These are all way I enjoy the present and times where I don’t have to stress about future plans. Overall, I try not to stress too much about the future. I still have daily habits that will benefit me later on, and I still keep a clear path in mind, but I am more relaxed.

Anxiety is more common than you think. Our society is oddly secretive when it comes to dealing with mental illness and its associated challenges. The idea of people struggling with these challenges is a highly stigmatized idea. When I went public with my anxiety, I was floored with how many people came forward and told me about their daily struggles and what they were going through. It’s incredible that it took people feeling like I was in a grave condition to open up. And I’ve never felt more loved and hopeful in my life before or since. Sadly, that’s the norm. It doesn’t make good dinner conversation to talk about what we all deal with, but it sure as hell can make a difference.

If there are others struggling with anxiety out there—and I know there are – they should be honest with themselves about their struggles. That’s easier said than done, especially with a condition that typically forces one to overanalyze everything and makes one belittle themselves. At the very least, I would suggest taking time to celebrate. Each and every one of us is unique and doing awesome things. That sounds like a line out of a kids’ movie, but it’s true and needed reminder.

On Edge

Depression hurts.

It hurts physically, but even more, it possesses a kind of soul crushing pain and agony that comes from knowing that your situation is hopeless, that your future is in doubt, and that the only thing you feel is worthlessness. Pure physical pain would be so much better. That’s why you look at your reflection in the blade of a knife and really consider cutting yourself, because at least then you can have control of the pain.

These are irrational thoughts that I had during intense episodes of depression, and they were made worse by the fact that I knew and understood that my thoughts were flawed. That leads to disgust. I was disgusted that I had such a great life but couldn’t shake off the knowledge that I was hopeless and so incredibly filled with intangible and unexplainable sorrow. It seems that everything is your fault, and try as you might to pull yourself out of your downward spiral, all you want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. At least sleep is somewhat of an escape, but when you wake up, things don’t look any better.

It becomes perceived loss of all control. You cannot control your outlook, and you are powerless to better yourself or your situation. You are afraid of confiding in close friends for the fear of being judged as crazy or ungrateful for the life you have, so you keep up the façade of a happy existence and bury the pain. But alone in the privacy of your mind, hopelessness is inescapable. The loneliness that results from your hatred of yourself is a constant barrage on you. That knife looks so tempting, like your own secret to finally have some control of your life. How sweet it would be to draw cold steel across your body, the last thing you have power over. It would hurt, but it would be your pain, something that is finally yours.

– ’15 OU Alumnus

Marathon Body, Afflicted Reflection

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              WARNING: Images in the mirror may be distorted by socially constructed ideas of beauty. 

This notice is pasted on every mirror in my apartment, not as a reminder of what beauty is, but what it is not. We have developed ideas of beauty that include unattainable standards of appearance. These notions are then forced on us. That is partially why nothing I ever do to my body or appearance will ever be quite good enough. My biceps are pretty good, but they could be better. My six pack is noticeably there, but it could be better. My marathon times have won my age division, but they could be faster. My lack of satisfaction at my achievements and control over my physical body are objectively irrational, but I cannot help that they are not good enough. I understand how irrational they are, but that does not make them any easier to face when you cannot stop thinking and believing them.

I have experienced the full spectrum of weight. I have been obese and I have been emaciated. No body type has made me happy. I still am trapped by the thoughts I first experienced during obesity, despite my toothpick thin appearance. I no longer have control over objectivity when it comes to evaluating my appearance. I am powerless over the judgment I pass on my appearance. As a result, I exercise and diet past the point of what is healthy, slowly breaking myself down trying to achieve the unattainable. I see myself in such a skewed perspective that other people judging my appearance see me as unhealthy and too skinny to the point that it is unsightly and unattractive.

Part of the problem that is apparent to me, but maybe not realized by many is the attribution of physical characteristics to a person’s identity. My acquaintances and friends know me as being exceptionally in shape and ripped, but to me, that feels like an identity that I have become trapped within. The pressure to maintain such a body constantly weighs on me. I feel that my worth, both to myself, and others is tied to my external appearance. If I gained weight and lost the six-pack, I would cease to be me. My friends would be disappointed, and the psychological distress I would feel would be so great that I have to keep pushing and starving myself. I have to kill myself with exercise, because if that kills me, at least I died in bettering my body and striving for the ideal that I will never reach.

To overcome this, I have to constantly remind myself that my thoughts are not objective and are indeed flawed. I must remind myself that I am not defined by my physical appearance. I have open dialogues with my friends and ask them to evaluate things for me objectively, and I trust them when my inner thoughts disagree with their evaluations. The discussion of eating disorders and body dismorphia in general is not an open one, but to effectively assist the many people struggling with their body image, it must become so. We need to realize how skewed our culture is when presenting beauty that should be emulated. People affected with these psychological difficulties need to hear objective evaluations, typically not for reassurance, but because we legitimately cannot make objective evaluations. We need to be honest with each other regarding unhealthy habits. On a college campus, far more people struggle with this than most realize. Any environment in which young people compete and feel pressured to appear a certain way fosters the magnifications of previous insecurities. The most effective way to combat this and assist others is to be objective with others, do not attribute identity to physical appearances, and have open dialogues about unhealthy behaviors. If you are going through this, things will get better, and people will never judge you as harshly as you judge yourself. If you have not experienced this, then I assure you that you know people that are, so please be kind and supportive.

Compliment and be honest, but above all try to understand and do not make a person struggling feel like they are odd or alone.

– ’15 OU Alumnus

It’s Not Sadness

Let’s start off with a simple idea.

Depression is not sadness.

Now, from my perspective, that’s an easy assertion to make. I know the difference because I’ve lived it. The problem, however, lies in the fact that depression blends in easily with the manifestations of sadness. Common sense would tell you that, if it looks like sadness and sounds like sadness, it probably is sadness.

It’s not that simple. The difference boils down to a question of wellbeing. Sadness can be cathartic. Depression is destructive. Sadness can motivate us to overcome adversity. Depression drains motivation and lets adversity overcome us. When we view depression through the lens of sadness, we get the wrong idea.

Here’s a different approach. Imagine a contraption elegantly designed to warp perspective for the sake of fostering guilt, frustration and hopelessness. It disregards success and pinpoints failure. What used to be one of life’s pleasures becomes a mundane chore. That’s the nature of the cognitive machine that carries the name “depression.” It translates your life in way that forces you to forgo happiness. The strength of its programming could make you believe that 2+2=5, and after awhile, you being to lose sense of which thoughts are yours and which are owned by depression. I’ve always described it as the loss of my ability to feel human.

Perhaps the one of the most frustrating aspects of its nature is the apparent lack of logic. How can people who are so blessed in life find themselves so worn down? They have so much to be happy for! It’s an argument I understand even when I find myself struggling. The problem is that happiness, in this case, does not work within the language of math. Joy and satisfaction do not result from the sum of one’s blessings. It’s a matter of perspective.

This considered, what’s the result of the inner workings of depression? For me, it’s shame and guilt. Shame for the feeling that I lose control over my thoughts and my perspective. Guilt for the stress I put upon my friends and family who do their best to assuage a relentless cognitive beast. And frankly, it’s embarrassing to admit that. The last thing I want is for the people I care about most to view my depression as a part of my character and personality. From what I have heard from others with depression, it’s a common fear.

Depression, as with all forms of mental illness, is difficult to break down into words, and I know this handful of paragraphs has barely scratched the surface. A step in the right direction, I believe, consists of our willingness to consider mental illness to be an authentic malady of the mind. Dismissing mental illness as excessive emotion is not the way to go.

Jake Morgan, OU ’15, BS in Microbiology, BA in Italian