As I briefly mentioned in my last post, I’ve had my own struggles with mental health in the past. I don’t mean to bring this up to scare people, but especially now that I turn 28 this weekend (at the time of writing) it has me reflecting on my life so far, the experiences I’ve had and the choices I’ve made. I think it’s important to talk about these things because mental health has always been stigmatized, and it seems to only be in this last generation or two that said stigma is beginning to fade. So I’d like to talk to you now about my own mental health journey and how it has impacted me.
It started in my 3rd year at USD, during the fall semester of 2019. I had gone to a doctor’s appointment that I have every six months in the morning before heading to campus. At this semiannual checkup, one of the doctors I meet with is a neurologist who also specializes in muscular dystrophy. She always gives me updates on treatments and cures and such that scientists are currently working on, and at this particular checkup she told me about a cure that looked especially promising during testing at that stage and how it might come out in about 10 years if all goes well.
Leading up to that day, I had been struggling a bit mentally for quite some time. It’s hard to explain, but I wasn’t sure how to talk about or if I even should since it didn’t compare to how mental health issues are commonly portrayed in the media. Most movies and tv shows make it seem like suicidal ideation and other negative thoughts are constant, but for me it was different. The best way I can describe it is like how news shows have a main topic to report/discuss while having a little ticker at the bottom of the screen where other events quickly flash up then scroll on by and disappear. I would be having a decent enough day, then suddenly I’d have these intrusive thoughts (sometimes about suicide if I’m being completely honest) that would pop up in my head for a moment and then disappear. Honestly, I think I spent more time obsessing over why I had those thoughts than having the thoughts themselves.
There are a few reasons why I didn’t do anything about them. The first is that my experiences with these issues seemed so different from the supposed norm that I wasn’t sure what to do or if I even needed to do anything, like it would eventually just go away or something. The second is that I’m just plain stubborn and thought I could handle it myself. The third reason, which in hindsight I realize was unrealistic, was that I believed I could put off any action until I was eventually cured and could just use the opportunity to drastically change my life. As I was speaking with my neurologist, I discovered just how unrealistic that third reason was.
I was so excited when she told me about this potential cure. I knew that it was at least a decade away from being publicly available, but hearing that the possibility even existed was a game changer for me. I immediately started daydreaming about how I would finally be able to work out, get in shape, learn to play football and/or the guitar, maybe even take up boxing or some other form of martial arts. In that moment, there was no limit to what my future might hold.
Then she explained to me how this cure would work, and everything changed. It wasn’t going to give me the strength of an able-bodied person, only halt the degeneration of my strength that comes with my disability. In other words, instead of getting stronger I was just going to stop getting weaker. I was devastated. In the words of Teddy KGB from the classic movie Rounders (yes I’m using a movie quote, it’s my blog, sue me): “all [my] hopes and dreams flushed down the fucking drain.” There would be no hot summer bod with 6-pack abs. No rockstar moment where I shred a sick guitar solo. I wasn’t going to become an MMA star and have Dana White offer me a contract for the UFC. I would forever be the same stressed, depressed, crippled old me.
Then I had to go to class. The world wasn’t going to stop and give me time to grieve the future that I had just lost. I had to process everything on the drive to campus. It was during this car ride that I decided to start going to therapy at the school since it was free with tuition and I could no longer push it off until my metamorphosis. I had to take care of my issues now and work towards making the best of the life I currently had instead of waiting for it to magically change.
Aside from making the decision to seek professional help, some of you may still be wondering why I included accountability in the title of this post. Well, my mental health struggles didn’t just suddenly start at USD. I had been dealing with them for years, starting around the time I graduated high school and enrolled in community college. They essentially boiled down to low self-esteem and confidence, but there were a few different reasons behind these issues. One of them had to do with my lack of a dating life.
I know it’s stupid to base my self worth on women, but it’s incredibly difficult when it feels like you’re the only one among your friends who can’t get a girlfriend or a date or even just a hookup. And it doesn’t help when you want to vent or get advice and everyone just says shit like “just be patient” or “you’ll find someone someday” or whatever other basic-ass words of encouragement and platitudes people use when they don’t have an answer or just want to make you feel better out of sympathy or pity. I’m not the kind of person who just wants soft, flowery, vague sayings to deal with my emotions. I need a plan of action. Unfortunately, most plans don’t account for a disability or wheelchair.
I’m not trying to use my disability or my wheelchair as a cop out. I’m not saying I’m perfect, far from it in fact. I’m sure there are plenty of things I could work on to become a better person. But when just about everyone around you is landing dates and you’re not even given a chance, it’s hard not to put two and two together and realize that a lot of people have a hard time looking past what you are (a person with a disability) to see who you are.
It was so much easier when I was young. I would ask a girl out, she would tell me she just wanted to be friends (or occasionally I wouldn’t realize that she already had a boyfriend), and I would just brush it off and move on to the next girl. No big deal. As I got older, though, that string of rejections just got more and more painful and I became hesitant to even approach a girl I was interested in. In my combined eight years of community college and university, I think I asked out maybe one or two girls.
I’ve been on and off dating apps for years, and it wasn’t until this past July that I got my first ever date. I definitely feel a bit better now that I can at least say that I’ve had that experience, but it still sucks to feel like the odds are so heavily stacked against you. All I can really do is keep at it, play the numbers game, and try to stay open to different things and ideas.
The second reason, which is fairly similar to the first, was the lack of a social life. Now this one mostly relates to high school. I had a lot of people that I considered friends, but I was never invited to any parties. The “cool kids” all seemed to like me, but it was clear that I wasn’t one of them. I felt like I was left out of some exclusive group. That feeling extended a little bit to religion because I lived in Texas and just about everyone was a Christian and I was raised mostly without religion, but I didn’t worry about it enough to force myself to convert, especially since churches always made me feel weird. But I digress. What I’m trying to say is that I was well-known but not exactly “popular,” so I was a bit desperate for approval.
I wish I could say that the feelings of exclusion and desperation went away after high school, but that would be a lie. It’s not that I had a poor experience at community college, but I felt like I still needed to prove how cool I was. This is where the accountability comes into play, and it’s a doozy to say the least.
My younger brother was in high school at this time, and I thought that if I could make his friends think I was cool then I could technically say I was cool in high school. I had noticed that some of his friends and other high schoolers were trying to act cool by saying the “n word” with friends. I’m extremely ashamed to say this, but I decided to say it in order to earn their approval. I could say that I was young and dumb or how I only said it with an a instead of a hard r or how I almost never said it around a black person unless they gave the ok or any number of excuses, but nothing excuses my behavior and I don’t want to hide behind any excuses. I should have known better. I should have been smarter. I shouldn’t have cared so much about other people’s opinions of me or my social status or any of that bullshit. I’ve done my best to apologize to the people I may have hurt or offended and to learn from my choices/mistakes in the years since, but I also shouldn’t have made those choices in the first place.
I’m not doing this to beg for forgiveness or anything like that. I just wanted to get this off my chest and clear my conscience, no matter the outcome. If you decide to stop reading and/or remove me from your life after learning this, then I understand. While I generally don’t think people should be judged based on something they said or did years ago, I’m also well aware of the fact that some things are too serious to just let slide. You may do with this information what you will, and with my full support. For now, let’s continue with my mental health journey.
The third reason I struggled (and still do) mentally was because of the way my friends and family have treated me throughout my life. They haven’t abused me or anything like that. In fact, it’s the opposite. Everyone always tells me about how great I am and how proud they are of me and all the great things I’m doing. I don’t say this to brag, but to shed some light on how I (and many others with disabilities) process this sort of thing.
This treatment has been tough for me because I’m not entirely positive about where this praise comes from. I feel like a lot of what I’ve done wouldn’t be seen as great if an able-bodied person did them. I feel like people don’t expect much from me because of my disability. I don’t want to be praised for just living my life. I don’t want to be praised for doing something that wouldn’t elicit the same reaction for an able-bodied person. Maybe this is my low self-esteem talking, but I don’t feel like I’ve done much that’s truly great. I want people to praise me for doing something legitimately big and crazy, like becoming a famous Internet influencer/Twitch streamer or starting my own game development company or being elected president. I realize that last one is definitely a stretch, but I want my supposed greatness to be real and not relative.
I don’t really have any wise words to end this with, but I highly recommend that everyone seeks professional help if they have the means (I know how expensive it can be). If you don’t, at least do something small that makes you feel better and helps you work through your trauma. My limited time with the school therapist definitely helped me. And while I’m not cured of my problems in any way, I at least know what’s available to help me reach that point. Until then, the journey continues!
4 responses to “Mental Health and Accountability”
WOW. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING
LOVE YOU. UNC
Logan, this was so beautifully written! I am so thankful you opened up and allowed us to see, through your writing, the challenges you struggle with at times. Love you!!! ♥️
You tell your story eloquently & with such transparency. I hope anyone in the same situation who reads your words finds the strength to get help and know they’re not alone.
Killer, big bro! You’re cool AF in my book. 😉 Maybe you should be this descriptive in day to day convo :p
Love you!