Image for “What writing my own book taught me about mental health”, Finding Your Bliss

I first printed a book about mental health in 2020, just as COVID was descending on the world, with the intention of giving it to a few people who might be interested. It was called A Few Words About Mental Health and told some of the story of our own child being diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of 15.

My book was written—one word at a time—from a peer perspective (I am a mother, not a medical professional) to offer words of encouragement to anyone experiencing mental health issues in their family. The format was such that a short essay followed a specific word—words such as love, create, believe, be, and know, to name a few. I wrote the book for two reasons. One, I wanted to share some of the things that I had learned along our journey from some very learned people. Second, I wanted to use my words to combat stigma and help create understanding.

I didn’t realise at the time that the book would appeal to many people. I suppose I should have known better, since mental health issues are currently rampant in our world, and the World Health Organization estimates that over a quarter of our global population will report struggling with something mental-health-related at some point in their lives. That’s a lot of people and makes an important point: not everyone who deals with a mental health issue is someone with a specific diagnosis—quite the contrary.

Perhaps that was the biggest lesson I learned since writing the book—just how far-reaching mental health issues truly are. At its core, the book was about support and encouragement, and I heard from many people after they read it—people I had never expected to hear from—who told me that the words made a difference to them and that they needed the advocacy the words offered.

People told me that something in the words propelled them finally to seek professional help; they felt anxious or depressed in their lives and didn’t know why. People who kept the book on their bedside table and reached for it each morning to choose a word for the day to help inspire them, even on days they were feeling just fine. People who shared the book with others because they knew they needed the support and the love that the words offered. And I heard from people who were lonely in their journey and who used the book as a companion piece of sorts to remind them that they were not alone.

Since those days in 2020, it feels like the need to understand each other has only grown stronger. More than ever, we are in a world where people need inclusion, empathy, and love. With that, a new, updated version of the book came to be. Heart features many of the same words that appeared in the first version, as well as some new additions that reflect some fresh perspectives. Words such as:

Kaleidoscope

I have learned that just when you think you have things all figured out in life, the picture can change. It doesn’t mean that picture is any less worthy or beautiful—it is just different.

Empathy

I have learned that empathy is a superpower that seldom (if ever) lets us down.

Joy

I have learned that even in our darkest moments, life can still be lived with joy. That feeling of joy may be fleeting some days or prove impossible the next, but it is never something to give up on. It can be found if we look for it in the moments.

Here

I have come to really appreciate that because we are here, we are valuable, and we are needed. The world needs each of us.

Story

And that because we are here, we each have a story to tell. More often than not, that story is best told among a community and with an abundance of self-compassion, particularly when that story hits a tough chapter.

Perhaps you have had some tough chapters in your life; I know that, amidst all of the good and the positive, I certainly have.

To that end, let me leave you with an excerpt from the book itself that talks about the story of this book.

Someone once asked me why I wrote it, and that person was me.

The worst version of me; the 3 a.m. me who lies awake and worries about the future. The me who falls into the fear and who isn't sure she can handle all of this. The me who asks, will everything be okay? The answer, most often, is yes. By 8 a.m., in the light of a new day, I manage to swap out the fear and stigma for trust and love. I know that, like every other person in the world, my kid will have a story to tell. That story, just as with the story of yourself or the person who you love, will be one of trying, failing, stumbling, rejoicing, losing and loving.

And if we are all very lucky we will each tell a story of ultimately succeeding and, not only will we be okay, we will fly.

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Love,
Judy