MY HEALTH AND MENTAL HEALTH
This year has been a challenging time for my health. So far this year, I’ve visited my healthcare providers eighteen times. On paper and in my medical chart, they say that I am in almost perfect health. But I feel like shit. What looks good on paper doesn’t match what I am experiencing. The changes and the rapid decline of my health have caught me off guard, and they have been affecting my mental health more than I wanted to admit.
If you’ve been reading my newsletters and blogs for years, you have probably noticed I haven’t published much this year. I normally write about what is on my mind and what I am experiencing. Well, my health has been at the top of my mind all these months. And I haven’t wanted to talk about it.
My initial reactions were embarrassment and shame. Beneath both of those feelings is something harder for me to acknowledge: fear.
Embarrassment
Every time I walked into my doctor’s or physical therapist’s office, I felt very self-conscious. Most people in the waiting room looked much older than I did. I know I am not young anymore, but I still felt out of place. Why am I here already? Shouldn’t I have more time before dealing with all of this?
Of course, I don’t know anyone else’s story just by looking at them. Yet, sitting there, I compared myself to everyone around me and assumed what needing care would mean for my age and my future.
I have lived a well-rounded, healthy lifestyle. I have invested tremendous time and energy in my physical wellness, including sacrifices, with the understanding that these efforts would prevent unnecessary health issues and improve my well-being. For example, as a Taiwanese/Asian dude, I have a very high tolerance for lactose, which is pretty rare (Up to 90% of East and Southeast Asian descent experience high lactose intolerance)*. I LOVE ice cream and anything with dairy. For my health, I have given up ice cream and many dairy-related foods for years, and even decades. So, I am very frustrated when my body breaks down unexpectedly. I start questioning myself and everything I have been doing.
Shame
Embarrassment hits when I walk into the clinic, and the nurses and pharmacists recognize me from my frequent visits (I’d rather my favorite bartenders remember me). Shame is what makes me hesitate to tell you why I have been quiet.
Writing about my health challenges means admitting one of my deepest vulnerabilities. I can talk about men and mental health, encourage people to express their feelings, and write about asking for help. But when it comes to my own health challenges, I still find myself wanting to hide.
In previous blogs, I have written about the pressure men feel to be strong, self-sufficient, and capable. I have also written about how we learn to say, “I’m fine,” even when we aren’t. Now I see those same habits showing up in my own thinking.
All of the health issues have severely impacted my self-esteem and motivation. Studies have shown that chronic health challenges are one of the risk factors for mental health issues.** It has been hard to summon the energy and drive to even reply to an email. I feel guilty and ashamed that I am not “manly” and strong enough not to let my health issues influence my focus and determination.
I want to be independent and able to handle things. I want to keep doing what I have been doing. Admitting that something is difficult and that my body is frail feels like admitting that I am becoming less capable. Being less capable means being weak. Being weak means that I am no longer in control of my life. Lack of control means failing. And failure is not an option.
Beneath the Embarrassment and Shame is Fear.
As a survivor of immigration and trauma, my health has felt like a safety net. Even when other parts of life were uncertain, at least I had my body. As backup, I could work at a construction site or in landscaping to make ends meet. I could exercise, hike, walk, and do what I needed to do to keep my mental health going. It was comforting to believe that, whatever happened, I could rely on my physical strength.
Now that my health is less dependable, I fear losing that safety net. The fear goes beyond another doctor’s appointment or a sick day. It touches my sense of independence and the way I have learned to survive.
What happens if I can’t do what I used to do? I am already struggling now; what would happen in ten or twenty years? Because failure is only one step away from losing everything I have worked so hard to build over the years.
What happens if I need someone else? What if no one is there for me? I have no family or relatives on the whole continent.
These are painful questions for me. I want the answers, but I don’t. I realize I have been treating my fear of the future as if it has already happened.
Shifting Mindset
“You are not a failure until you start blaming others for your mistakes.”- John Wooden.
One of my mentors said, “You still can do a lot of things and the same things, but you just have to do them differently now.” I am trying to understand and learn this.
My mind keeps telling me, “I have to keep doing what I have been doing.” I don’t want to accept that I am aging or that my body may need something different from me. But what am I trying to prove, and to whom? If I keep measuring myself against what I used to do, I leave very little room to figure out what works for me today.
Doing things differently might mean slowing down, doing less, or making room for other activities. It might mean adjusting my expectations instead of turning every adjustment into a personal failure.
Using walking as an example. I go on daily walks that stretch from a mile to two, and I have prided myself on being a fast walker. With different health issues, I have been walking slower, which frustrates me a lot. Part of the annoyance comes from taking more time to walk. But ultimately, it’s my ego and the fear that I mentioned. So, I have been learning to shift my mindset by reprogramming my belief system about walking. I have started telling myself that a slower walking pace gives me more time to enjoy the neighborhood and the beautiful park.
My daily walk is just one part of my life that I’m still figuring out how to adjust. Practicing a growth mindset, I have been striving to tell myself this can be an exciting, fun opportunity to learn more about myself and continue to age gracefully.
Sharing is Caring
“People change and forget to tell one another.” – Lillian Hellman.
Keeping quiet hasn’t made the embarrassment, shame, or fear disappear. In fact, it has only made me suffer more.
I have the fear that if I share my health issues, people around me would not understand or would brush them aside. It has happened before, and it hurt a lot. At the same time, I need to remind myself that due to mental health stigma and the lack of emotional intelligence in our (men’s) upbringing, many people either don’t know how to respond or lack emotional bandwidth. I was never taught to show empathy and support. These are some of the skills and personality traits that I need to learn throughout my life.
More often than not, people want to care and be supportive. I finally summoned the courage to share my health challenges with a few male friends; they listened with empathy and grace. In fact, during my conversation with a male friend, he provided psychological safety for me to open up about my health challenges. That conversation gave me the courage to write this blog.
I believe talking about our health challenges can help make these conversations less shameful, especially between men. Sometimes, telling one trusted person is enough to begin.
When someone opens up to us, we can ask what they need instead of assuming. Maybe they want practical help. Maybe they want to talk. Maybe they don’t know yet. Or maybe they need someone to listen to their struggles. We can be that friend who gives them the room to figure it out and support them.
Asking for Help
Another part of doing things differently is asking for help. This is the hardest thing for me. Even thinking about those requests makes me feel resistant, embarrassed, and ashamed. I worry about inconveniencing people or becoming a burden. I don’t like the idea of someone seeing me when I feel vulnerable. Even when I was sick as a dog, I risked driving myself to urgent care until I had to undergo a procedure.
For the procedure, the hospital required me to arrange a driver to take me to the hospital and bring me home afterward. This person could not be from a taxi company. Additionally, this person had to stay on the premises the whole time (about 3 hours on a weekday) while I underwent the procedure. The hospital would cancel the appointment on the spot if I couldn’t meet these requirements.
The hospital requirements really put me in a bind. My ego, pride, and guilt were arguing with the hospital staff and me to find alternative ways, with no results. Finally, I reflected on these questions: “If a friend asked me for a ride or help with groceries, would I think less of him? Would I question his manhood?” Of course not! I would be more than happy to help. In fact, I had picked up my friends from the hospital after they had surgery, and it made me feel great.
Don’t get me wrong, it was still very difficult for me to pick up my phone, call my good friend Samantha, and ask for a ride to the hospital. I felt very uncomfortable and worthless. But guess what, the whole trip and process seemed like just another trip to our regular happy hour.
For men who are used to being the provider or the person others rely on, receiving care can feel unfamiliar, awkward, and even troubling. I believe we need to “man up” and learn to talk more about this discomfort and normalize it. We can value our independence and still have days when we need another person.
Ice Cream
Last month, in the midst of a major health challenge with a lot of pain, I decided to buy a family-size Tillamook ice cream (If you have to know, I chose the dark chocolate cookies-and-cream flavor 😊). I ate the first half that very evening. I ate the rest the following morning. It was my first time buying ice cream for myself in 12 years and eating it for breakfast in 20 years, and it was MAGICAL.
*“Lactose Intolerance.” National Library of Medicine
** “Understanding the Link Between Chronic Disease and Depression.” National Institute of Mental Health
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