“Why Didn’t You Answer Me?” — What You Don’t See Happening Inside a Mentally Ill Mind
There is something I wish people understood about mental illness.
Not something complicated.
Not something that requires a medical degree.
Just this:
Sometimes I need a moment before I can answer you.
You may ask me a question, and I may just sit there.
Quiet.
Looking at you.
You might think I'm ignoring you.
You might think I wasn't listening.
You might think I don't care enough to answer.
You might even ask again, a little louder this time.
"Did you hear me?"
Yes.
I heard you.
My mind is just trying to catch up.
There Is a World Behind the Silence
When someone doesn't have bipolar disorder, manic depression, schizophrenia, or another serious mental illness, it can be difficult to understand what happens inside the mind of someone who does.
Most people ask a question and expect an answer.
Question.
Answer.
Simple.
But sometimes my mind doesn't work that way.
You ask me something, and instead of immediately producing an answer, my brain has to process the question.
Sometimes it takes a few seconds.
Sometimes it takes a minute.
Sometimes longer.
And while you are waiting for my answer, there may be an entire conversation happening inside my head.
I'm trying to understand exactly what you asked.
I'm trying to decide what you mean.
I'm sorting through thoughts.
I'm trying to find the words.
I'm trying to make sure the answer coming out of my mouth actually matches what is happening in my mind.
And sometimes there are so many thoughts competing for attention that finding one simple answer feels like trying to find a single voice in the middle of a crowded room.
You see silence.
I experience processing.
Those are not always the same thing.
Please Don't Mistake My Delay for Disrespect
This is one of the hardest things for me.
Someone can become frustrated because I didn't respond quickly enough.
They may think I'm being rude.
They may think I'm deliberately ignoring them.
They may say:
"Why aren't you answering me?"
"It's a simple question."
"What's wrong with you?"
And sometimes those words hurt more than the person realizes.
Because I am already struggling to answer.
Now I'm also struggling with the pressure of having to answer faster.
And pressure doesn't always make my mind work better.
Sometimes it makes everything worse.
Imagine your computer has twenty programs open.
Then someone tells you:
"Why is this taking so long? Just open the file."
The problem isn't that the computer doesn't want to.
It's that it's already trying to process too much.
Sometimes my brain feels like that.
Things You Might Never Think About
There are things people with healthy minds can take for granted.
You may wake up and simply feel like yourself.
I may wake up wondering which version of my mind I am going to have that day.
You may be able to concentrate on one conversation.
I may have several thoughts arriving at the same time.
You may be able to put a thought into words exactly when you want to.
I may know exactly what I want to say and still struggle to get it out.
You may forget something and laugh about it.
For me, memory problems can become frightening.
You may have a bad night's sleep and be tired the next morning.
For someone with bipolar disorder, sleep can become something much more complicated.
You may feel sad and know that eventually your mood will probably change.
For someone living with depression or bipolar disorder, sadness can become an entire landscape.
You may have a thought and let it go.
Sometimes my mind grabs onto a thought and won't let go.
You may walk into a room and remember why you went there.
Sometimes I walk into a room and suddenly wonder what I was doing there in the first place.
You may think:
"Why can't he just focus?"
I may be thinking:
"Why can't I?"
And that is an entirely different question.
The Part Nobody Sees
Mental illness is strange because so much of it is invisible.
You can't look at me and necessarily see the battle.
There isn't always a cast.
There isn't always a wheelchair.
There isn't always a bandage.
Sometimes the person standing in front of you looks completely fine.
And inside, they are exhausted from trying to appear fine.
That's one of the cruelest misunderstandings about mental illness.
People often judge the behavior they can see without considering the battle they cannot.
If I don't talk much, you might think I'm angry.
Maybe I'm overwhelmed.
If I talk too much, you might think I'm being annoying.
Maybe my mind is moving faster than I can slow it down.
If I forget something, you might think I don't care.
Maybe my brain simply didn't hold onto it.
If I need time to answer, you might think I'm not listening.
Maybe I'm working incredibly hard just to organize the words.
If I withdraw, you might think I don't want you around.
Maybe I desperately need someone who will stay without demanding that I explain everything.
What If We Changed the Question?
What if instead of asking:
"What's wrong with you?"
we asked:
"What are you dealing with right now?"
What if instead of:
"Why aren't you answering me?"
we said:
"Take your time."
What if instead of assuming someone is being difficult, we wondered whether something is making things difficult for them?
What if we stopped looking at the mentally ill person as an inconvenience and started looking at them as a human being carrying something heavy?
That doesn't mean mental illness excuses everything.
It doesn't mean people shouldn't have boundaries.
It doesn't mean harmful behavior should simply be ignored.
But there is a tremendous difference between holding someone accountable and treating them without compassion.
We can do both.
Imagine If We Treated Physical Illness This Way
Imagine someone with a broken leg trying to walk.
They take a few seconds before moving.
Would we yell:
"Come on! It's only walking!"
Probably not.
We can see the broken leg.
Mental illness is different.
The injury is often hidden behind the eyes.
The person may be standing.
Talking.
Smiling.
Going to work.
Eating dinner.
Laughing at a joke.
And still fighting something you cannot see.
Maybe that's why compassion is so important.
You don't have to see the wound for the wound to be real.
Sometimes I Need You to Wait
If you know someone with bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, manic depression, or another serious mental illness, there is something simple you can do.
Give them a moment.
If you ask a question and they don't immediately respond, don't automatically assume they're ignoring you.
Wait.
A few seconds.
Maybe a little longer.
Let their mind find its way to the answer.
And if they still can't answer, perhaps try again gently.
Not because they're stupid.
Not because they're being difficult.
But because their brain may be fighting through something you cannot see.
That small amount of patience can mean more than you realize.
Empathy Instead of Ignorance
I don't want people to pity me.
I don't want people walking on eggshells around me.
I don't want mental illness to become an excuse for everything I do.
I simply want people to understand that my mind does not always travel the same road yours does.
Sometimes I take longer to get somewhere.
Sometimes I take a completely different road.
Sometimes I get lost.
Sometimes I have to stop and figure out where I am.
And sometimes, with the right person beside me, I can keep going.
Maybe that's what compassion really is.
Not pretending the struggle doesn't exist.
Not fixing everything.
Not having all the answers.
Sometimes compassion is simply standing beside someone while they try to find their way.
So The Next Time Someone Doesn't Answer You Immediately...
Before frustration takes over, pause.
Before judgment, pause.
Before assuming they don't care, pause.
You don't know what is happening behind their eyes.
You don't know how hard they're working to put one thought into words.
You don't know how many thoughts they're fighting through just to give you one simple answer.
And you don't know how much your patience might mean.
Maybe they aren't ignoring you.
Maybe they aren't being rude.
Maybe they aren't being difficult.
Maybe their mind just needs another moment.
Give them that moment.
Because the person you are waiting on may already be fighting a battle just to stand there in front of you.
And perhaps the greatest gift you can give them isn't an answer.
It's understanding.
Empathy instead of ignorance.
Compassion instead of frustration.
And, sometimes,
patience instead of judgment.
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