A Super Power

I've been told that my mental illness has given me a superpower. At first, that felt strange. How could something that brought so much struggle, doubt, and darkness be seen as a gift, let alone a superpower? But over time, I've come to realize that there’s truth in that statement.

Living with mental illness isn’t easy. It’s a battle that often takes place behind closed doors, hidden from the world. The stigma, the fear of judgment, and the weight of societal expectations can make it feel isolating. But somewhere along my journey, I made a choice: to talk about it. To be open. To share the parts of my story that I once felt compelled to hide. And that’s where the superpower comes in.

Openness is transformative. When I wrote The Recovering Farmer, I didn’t set out to be a hero. I simply wanted to tell my story, to put words to experiences that had shaped me in ways both painful and profound. But what I discovered is that vulnerability has a ripple effect. When you speak your truth, you create space for others to do the same. People began reaching out, saying, "I thought I was the only one," or "Your story helped me find the courage to talk about my own struggles." That connection—that shared humanity—is powerful.

Mental illness has given me a deeper sense of empathy. I don’t just hear people’s struggles; I feel them. I understand the language of pain, the weight of invisible burdens, and the courage it takes to simply get through the day. This empathy allows me to connect with others in authentic, meaningful ways. It helps me show up, not with pity, but with genuine understanding and support.

Resilience is another part of this superpower. Living with mental health challenges means facing obstacles that can feel insurmountable. But each time I navigate those dark moments, I discover a strength I didn’t know I had. It’s not the absence of struggle that defines resilience; it’s the decision to keep going, to keep showing up, even when it’s hard.

There’s also a clarity that comes from facing your own mental health head-on. It strips away the superficial and forces you to confront what truly matters. It has taught me to value authenticity over perfection, connection over image, and compassion over judgment. It’s helped me become a better listener, a more present friend, and a more compassionate human being.

In sharing my story, I’ve learned that what feels like weakness can actually be a source of strength. The very thing I once wanted to hide has become the bridge that connects me to others. It’s not about being fearless; it’s about acknowledging the fear and speaking out anyway.

So, yes, my mental illness has given me a superpower. Not because it makes me invincible, but because it has made me real. My perception has shifted. In the past, I might have questioned "why me?" or found myself slipping closer to the abyss. Now, I see my illness as having given me a perspective that brings me a sense of comfort and strength. It taught me the power of vulnerability, the strength in sharing, and the beauty of authentic connection.

If you’re struggling, know this: your story matters. Your voice matters. And sometimes, what feels like your greatest struggle can also be the very thing that helps someone else find their strength.