That Michael Phelps Article About Mental Health

Michael Phelps published an article on ESPN Monday, with the help of writer Wayne Drehs. The piece reflects on Phelps’ mental health during the pandemic and how he’s struggled to overcome a forced lifestyle change. The 23-time Olympic gold medalist has been open about his battles with anxiety and depression since before the 2016 Rio games. Given the state of the world, Phelps decided to address purported misconceptions about his “recovery” and remind readers that mental health issues are lifelong, regardless of what many would consider an overwhelmingly successful life.

One of my friends sent me the article and suggested I write something about it. Normally, I’m not the biggest fan of writing about someone else’s mental health experience, especially if that person is a celebrity with a life foreign to 99 percent of the world’s population. It’s not that their experience is any less important or real because they’re rich and famous; they’re human beings too. But struggling with any health issue as a global icon is different than struggling as a member of the other 99 percent.

That said, I found the article compelling enough to take my friend up on his suggestion. So below, I’ve included segments of the Phelps piece (which readers can see in its entirety by clicking the link up top) with a few lines of my own reflection after each.

The thing is -- and people who live with mental health issues all know this -- it never goes away. You have good days and bad. But there's never a finish line. I've done so many interviews after Rio where the story was the same: Michael Phelps opened up about depression, went into a treatment program, won gold in his last Olympics and now is all better. I wish that were the truth. I wish it were that easy. But honestly -- and I mean this in the nicest way possible -- that's just ignorant. Somebody who doesn't understand what people with anxiety or depression or post-traumatic stress disorder deal with has no idea.

That passage hooked me. When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I knew there was no “cure.” Even before that, I knew mental health issues don’t heal and can only be managed. And I agree with Phelps about people who view short term success as proof that things are OK with someone struggling with her or his mental health. That is ignorant.

Using myself as an example, even though I’m stable, in treatment, on meds, and surrounded by support, I assure you, there are parts of every week that just plain suck. And that’s hard to talk about with people who don’t struggle with their mental health. Some hear casual, general discussions about bipolar disorder as simply ups and downs that are part of the human experience. And indeed, life is a rollercoaster. But being bipolar, that rollercoaster never stops. I can’t get off. I just have to learn how to anticipate the swings and do the best I can to live normally. It’s exhausting and people don’t see the effort that goes into managing the cycles.

I won't ever be "cured." This will never go away. It's something where I've had to accept it, learn to deal with it and make it a priority in my life. And yes, that's a hell of a lot easier said than done.

Yes, it is. The person I try to be is the antithesis of the person bipolar disorder would have me become. I don’t like thinking negatively, I don’t like isolating myself, and I don’t like thinking in absolutes. However, when I’m not on top of managing my disorder, that’s where my mind goes. Fighting through that literally forces me to lie to myself in certain situations. When things feel hopeless, I’ll try telling myself they’re not. The challenge for me is fighting through the emotional disconnect I’m feeling in the moment.

There are times where I feel absolutely worthless, where I completely shut down but have this bubbling anger that is through the roof. If I'm being honest, more than once I've just screamed out loud, "I wish I wasn't me!" Sometimes there's just this overwhelming feeling that I can't handle it anymore. I don't want to be me anymore.

Yep, been there. I still have periods where I’ll fall into this mental space. It’s the depressive side of my condition talking, but it also stems from life events, such as a toxic work environment, where people seemed to expect more and more of me to the point I realized it wasn't worth it. Part of my anger also comes from ignorant people who equate compassion for one's mental health with coddling. Despite the strides being made in mental health awareness, trust me, there are plenty of assholes out there who think people with depression and anxiety (or some other condition) just can’t handle bad days. It’s part of the inspiration for starting my own business. I don’t have time for that kind of person in my life anymore. If I allow myself to think that that type of person knows what they’re talking about, yes, I'll hate myself and my disorder. I'll feel like a burden to everyone around me.

So how do you fight this? How do you manage it? For me, I have to get in the gym every day for at least 90 minutes. It's the first thing I do… And look, there are days that I don't want to be there. But I force myself to do it. I know it's for my mental health as much as my physical health.

Listen, I would love to go to the gym more, but I don’t have the time or the discipline to do it in a meaningful way at this point. But there’s a larger, less specific truth to the idea of doing something each day that one enjoys to maintain good mental health. Phelps, the best Olympian of all-time, enjoys working on his body because it’s given him his life. Me? I’m a writer and a creative. If I’m not writing, taking and developing photos, or whipping up a design, I’m lost. Not all of ‘em are great--or good, for that matter. But it’s the process of consistently showing up to do something that’s rewarding.

It’s a point for another day, but I believe having a strong sense of one’s mental health (even without a diagnosis or evident crisis) plays a key role in understanding what would make for a healthy career path. For me, focusing on my mental health taught me that I want to do a bunch of things because I never want to get bored. Being forced to go to the same place almost every day and listen to the same people tell me how and when to do the same thing all the time because "growth," would probably drive me back to the hospital. If that makes me weak, I'm cool with that.

But when things get really bad, I literally give myself a timeout. I just have to remove myself.

Managing mental health is a team effort. It doesn’t necessarily come across in the line above, but when Phelps says he needs to give himself a timeout, that’s not always easy. I have to do this all the time. Sometimes, I’ll need a couple of timeouts in a day, sometimes I’ll only need a few for an entire month. But without fail, those moments come. Being married is a lot different than living alone when it comes to taking a break from reality. For me, I might need a timeout when me and my wife quickly transition from a big grocery shop to suddenly talking about finances. It’s not that either chore is overwhelmingly stressful, but each presents its own triggers. If those come rushing in at once, my brain gets frustrated and can prevent me from having a productive conversation. Having a partner (or close friend, family member, or colleague) who understands the difference between taking a short break and giving up is crucial.