Who decides what is OK to talk about? How do we all just seem to know what a taboo topic is? If there is a yearly workshop, I wasn’t invited. But somehow, I’m still aware of what we are supposed to avoid talking about. At a party, we’re told to steer clear of discussions about sex, politics, religion and the like. I don’t know what parties these people were talking about, because every party I attend somehow turns into a spirited political debate. Regardless, I maintain that this is a commonly used list of topics to avoid. Another common addition to this list is health. We’re told that no one wants to hear about our recent ailments or your visit to the doctor, and this may be true. People often get weird when others share personal information. Further, there is one topic that makes many people extremely uncomfortable. If you want to quiet a room full of people, bring up your mental-health struggles.
Why is this a thing? Why do we pretend everything is fine and dandy when everything is absolutely neither fine nor dandy? Because we’ve been told since day one that no one really wants to hear about our problems. We apologize for complaining or for talking about feelings. When someone asks how we are, we say we’re fine, because we know the person asking probably doesn’t really want to know. Unless your result is blue, according to the True Colors personality test, you’d probably rather talk about literally anything other than feelings.
Here’s the deal: When we stop talking about feelings, we stop being human. Dear readers, I apologize sincerely if you hate feelings. You’re not alone if you do. Many people are able to effectively handle life without their brain getting in the way, but many people are not.
By burying thoughts and feelings, we are diminishing the reality that is mental illness, thus diminishing the prospect of help and understanding for those affected by it. When we stop talking about mental health, those who need to know they’re not alone don’t get that reassurance. Thus, the problem becomes worse.
To those who don’t like talking about their feelings: I am sorry. I truly am. I’m not saying this aspect of communication needs to change because I like watching you be uncomfortable. Your fellow humans need you, and as a person whose brain is on their side, you are their best asset. You can improve and even save lives just by letting something enter the list of open topics.
To those who need their feelings talked about: I’m sorry. I’m sorry it has to be a component of your life. You don’t deserve it, and I wish I could press a button or wave a magic wand and make it all go away. I wish we did not have to worry about this and tomorrow you would wake up and discover your brain will never work against you again. I can’t, but I can try to help you and get others to help you.
The best resource we have for our time on this planet is each other. We can go in alone. It may be more efficient and a little less uncomfortable, but I am a firm believer in the idea that nothing good is ever achieved while you’re comfortable. If we band together, we can go far. We can make our lives meaningful, help one another and achieve all we wish to achieve in our all-too-short lifetimes. So, talk about it. Don’t pretend everything is fine if it’s not. You don’t have to be fine. If you are, use that to help others. Don’t shut down. Your fellow humans need you. If you’re not fine, that’s OK. Use your story to inspire others. We’re never alone. Don’t let anyone forget that, and don’t you forget it either.
Taylor Cavaliere is a UF psychology and journalism sophomore. Her column appears on Mondays.
