Great mental health privilege

I hear a lot about privileges these days. White privilege. Male privilege. Quite privileged. Can-buy-a-ranch-in-montana-on-a-whim-and-name-it-something-ironic privilege.

However, there is one form of privilege that is rarely mentioned. I can’t see it. Trending is not possible. It is not displayed on the Diversity Training slide.

It is a mental health privilege.

The privilege of waking up and having a heart…work. The alarm does not go out. There is no obsession to hijack your mornings. no shame A hangover before breakfast.

Those who have this kind of privilege don’t know what they have.

The floor that gave way

i will do it. I know what it’s like to lose that privilege. I write about it in my book, Easy Street: A story about redness from myself.

There was a time when my ideas stopped being trustworthy. When my own brain felt like an adversarial territory. I did not lose control – I lost my illusion of control. The floor in my heart gave way, and I fell into something darker, bigger and lonely than I had thought.

Here’s how I put it in a book:
“The true lucky ones are heartfelt, healthy souls who have not collided with the horrifying cellars of their minds, and are keenly aware that beams can always give way, at any time, by stepping into the floor of their hearts. There is no warning.

When words become weapons

For me, it wasn’t visual. It wasn’t dramatic. That was just words.

An intrusive word. Mainly religious. A handful of phrases from me Childhood It stuck in my brain like a piece of fragment. No harmful on the surface. Bible, even numbers. But they looped. They echoed. They took root.

I’ll catch it in just a word. And I couldn’t listen to it. I couldn’t get over it. I couldn’t think about it around me.

The sacred phrase became a threat. The lines from the hymn became trapdoors. The poem has become a verdict.

It wasn’t about belief. It was about repetition. Obsession. noise.

When the words come, I become spiral.

You can’t see privilege

People who don’t have this – people with mental health privileges can’t understand what it is. They think that ideas are mere thoughts. They don’t know what it means to stay in a mental loop.

They can say the word “great” without feeling cold. They don’t listen to the lines from the sermon and wonder if it’s secretly denounced them. They don’t walk around because they are afraid of their vocabulary.

And it’s a gift.

It’s like having a quiet home where you can think, rest and become. You don’t realize how unusual it is until you live with an unblocked smoke alarm.

I’m in a lucky position now

Now I’m doing better, so the volume has gone down and the loop has been relaxed – I’m aware of what privilege it is.

My heart is almost silent now. Not always. But it is no longer a battlefield.

That’s about recovery. It gives you a perspective. You see what you once took for granted. It’s like you can make a call without rehearsing for 20 minutes. I’m still rattling in my head, like I’m sleeping without words.

So when someone at the grocery store is rude to me, or when they creep up with me at the bank, or when they’re short with me on the phone, I’ll try to pause if I remember.

Because they may not work.
They may be hearing the words over and over again.
They may be stuck in their own loop.
They may be playing trauma tape.
Or manage panic that doesn’t appear outside.
Or navigate a depression It makes every little task feel like Everest.

You don’t know who’s in the basement

When I was there, I was not in my best condition. I was not elegant. I wasn’t warm. I was totally non-existent.

I was just trying to stand upright. To continue breathing. To survive a heart that will never leave me alone.

So now, when I can work – when I can handle lines, forms, conversations – I remember that no one can. And that’s not because they’re weak. That’s because their ideas oppose them and do their best with what they have.

Just looking at it doesn’t tell who’s underground. But once you go there, you will learn to recognize the signs.

If you have it, remember it

If you have mental health privileges today, if your mind works in your favor, if your thoughts are easy to manage, if your internal narrator is not on the loop, immediately.

That’s a blessing.

It’s not what you made. It is not guaranteed. Just something good.

After that kindness comes

Mental health privileges aren’t about getting better. It has a light load to carry. So, if today’s load is light, you can bring a little extra bounty for someone else.

Maybe when someone is cold, or difficult, or unexpectedly meaningful, you remember that they may be in a middle loop. They may be hearing sacred words used like weapons in their heads. Or brace for a panic attack while trying to act normally. Or barely hold it after a sleepless night of anxiety.

And maybe – maybe – you give them a little more room.

Because kindness isn’t just what we give. That’s what we owe when we’re lucky enough to have the power to offer it.