Last night, I watched Thunderbolts and cried. It was such an honest, deeply sad, and yet beautiful story about struggle, loneliness, and depression.
As someone who understands the darkness and the void that comes with depression, I was moved to tears. I know what it feels like to live in that dark place, to feel the small light inside of you still wanting help, yet trapped beneath the pain and shame that repeat over and over. How the darkness feeds your mind until eventually, you give in and let it overtake you.
I also know what it looks like on the other side, with light, laughter, and beauty, and how hard I had to work to reach a place of emotional and mental health. It wasn’t easy. But I knew I wanted to be healthy not only for myself but for my husband and kids. I didn’t want to pass down my pain and trauma to them. Healing is possible. It’s hard, and it’s worth it.
I also recognize that mental healing is a privilege. I don’t think I could have done it without my husband and my mom, who loved me. I had safety, a home, health insurance, access to therapy when I was younger and now, support groups when I needed them, and medication when it was necessary. I held on to hope-something deep inside me knew there was a higher power guiding me. If my basic needs hadn’t been met, I don’t know if I would be where I am today. Being a mom was the driving force that kept me fighting for myself.
Watching the part in the movie when Yelena was the first to wrap her arms around Bob, and then the rest follow her lead, really moved me. I thought of the times I wished someone would just put their arms around me and remind me I was loved, even when my anger, fear, and wounded parts tried to push people away.
It’s complicated, living with a mental struggle and loving someone who has one. I’ve been on both sides, struggling myself and loving someone who struggles. I’m deeply grateful for the times the people I love wrapped their arms around me, helping my wounded parts begin to heal. I also understand why sometimes the people who love you can’t be the ones to help you.
Then there’s the judgment, the stereotypes, and the labels that stick even when you’re in remission. And the hurt mental illness causes the people who love you. There isn’t enough support for everyone involved. We live in a world that only seems to want the shiny, happy versions of us, while the darker parts are expected to hide until they can’t anymore.
I’ve had two mental breakdowns in my life, one in my early twenties and another as I was entering perimenopause, when my kids were growing up and starting to leave home. I’ve been doing inner healing work since that first breakdown, maybe even before, but when my kids didn’t need me in the same way anymore, so many unhealed parts resurfaced. I often tell people that menopause is a great awakening. It can be a time of deep healing if you allow it. It can either give birth to a new you, helping you come fully alive, or it can slowly drain you long before your final breath.
Depression is still a part of me, even though I’m in remission. I know my shadow side, and I’m no longer ashamed of her. She’s part of me, and I’ve learned how to care for myself so I can live whole. I take my mental and emotional health seriously because I know I’m not above any of this.
Maybe that’s why I became a therapist. Learning to live with my own shadow has helped me sit with others in their pain and walk with them on their inner healing journey. Anyone willing to work on themselves is one of the most courageous people I know. It’s deeply painful to look at yourself and be brutally honest, and to learn to love yourself and see your beauty too.
I know what it feels like, and the last thing I want is for someone to feel unloved. Sometimes family members who care deeply for someone struggling with mental illness aren’t able to be there in the ways they wish because of their own wounds. I understand that. I understand why someone might have to step away from a relationship with someone they love if that person refuses to get help. And yet, everyone needs and deserves to feel loved, seen, and understood.
That’s also why I am an advocate and why I tell people and sometimes complete strangers, they are loved. And why, I make sure my kids understand how to regulate emotions, be in their bodies, handle conflict, know their shadow, set healthy boundaries, walk through pain and suffering, and always know they are loved and that home is safe no matter what.
The darkness, the void, the shame-they are not telling you the truth. You matter. Your life matters. Healing is possible. You are good at your core.
As one of my favorite singers, Noah Kahan, reminds us in his song Call Your Mom: “Don’t let this darkness fool you. All lights turned off can be turned on.”
If you are looking for a therapist or someone to speak at your next event, organization, or small group, please email me at kim@kimwatttherapy.com.
If you are struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please reach out to someone you trust, call or text 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline in the U.S.), or go to the nearest emergency room.#MentalHealthAwareness #DepressionSupport #HealingJourney #SelfCareMatters #EmotionalHealth #MentalWellness #InnerHealing #ShadowWork #TherapistLife #MindfulnessPractice #EndTheStigma #MentalHealthMatters #SuicidePrevention #MentalHealthRecovery #PersonalGrowth #MentalHealthAdvocate #MentalHealthTips #WellbeingJourney #Resilience #MentalHealthCommunity