People with Depression Don’t Have “Low Vibes” or the “Wrong Mindset”

And telling them that is one of the most insidious forms of ableism out there

Trigger warning: suicide, depression, anxiety

I used to email my friend, Leslie, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to check in on our progress around our latest set of goals. Every conversation we had centered around what we were striving for and where we were heading.

It was exhilarating. And exhausting.

My journey was wildly inconsistent, much like a roller coaster. I’d bash through countless goals one week only to have three in which I had to keep setting the same goals because I was struggling with my depression and anxiety and couldn’t get anything done. Over the course of 18 months, I’m not sure I made a ton of progress. At least not compared to her.

In that time, she got married, had a baby, moved into a new house, bought a new car, and quadrupled her income by becoming the first female Executive Director of a major organization in her region.

As you can imagine, there were many times when I felt a little inadequate (to say the least). I had managed to get myself into a duplex after my boyfriend left me for another woman, and get a new job that paid less than what I’d made as a teacher — though that was fine by me, as I didn’t want to teach, anymore. It wasn’t much, but it took a lot of effort to achieve that. Hell, there were days that just getting out of bed counted as an accomplishment.

After she got pregnant for the second time, Leslie emailed me to break the news — and break up.

“You just have a really low vibe and it’s been hard for me to deal with. I’ve discovered that if you want to be successful, you have to be around successful people. High vibe people. People with the right mindset. I want to continue on this journey and that means leaving low vibe energy behind.”

I never heard from her again.

At the time that I received Leslie’s email, I was devastated. I felt so ashamed of myself. So disappointed in myself.

I struggled with suicidal thoughts for a while. I have been called “low vibe” before. The way Leslie had spoken made me feel like I’d been dragging her down for a year and a half. How much further could she have gone without this albatross (me) around her neck?

There is little that triggers my depression, self-hatred, and suicidal ideation as much as the feeling that I have disappointed or hurt the people I love.

Why couldn’t I just have done what she did? Change my attitude? Buck up? Stay positive? Be happy?

The idea that I was choosing to be miserable was unbearable.

Was there any worse failure than that?

When I was in my late thirties, I heard a term that would change everything for me: ableism.

If you don’t know what it means, here’s Access Living’s definition:

Ableism is the discrimination of and social prejudice against people with disabilities based on the belief that typical abilities are superior. At its heart, ableism is rooted in the assumption that disabled people require ‘fixing’ and defines people by their disability. Like racism and sexism, ableism classifies entire groups of people as ‘less than,’ and includes harmful stereotypes, misconceptions, and generalizations of people with disabilities.

There’s a lot to this concept that I still have to explore, but for the purpose of this article, I’m going to stick to one aspect: mental illness.

Mental illnesses are just like any other illness or health problem. They can be invisible and are often considered disabilities. Depression is one of these conditions:

Depression is considered a psychiatric disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). It’s a significant mood disorder that’s known to interfere with daily activities, which may include your ability to work.

I was first diagnosed with depression and anxiety when I was 16 years old. By then, I had spent the last four years, struggling to get out of bed and go to school. I was terrified every day and felt little joy.

Decades later, I came to understand that this probably happened because I endured months of sexual trauma at the hands of my classmates that the authority figures at my school did nothing to stop. Instead, they gaslit or blamed me. I cannot imagine any other outcome to such horrifying events. I was 12 years old, for god’s sake, and being told by adults that my breasts made me look like a grown woman, so of course the boys were going to do what they were doing. That’s what boys did.

Because I internalized what they told me, I never talked about what had happened until I was in my forties. I never sought treatment for the trauma I had endured. I had only sought treatment for my “mysterious” depression and anxiety.

Because of that, my depression and anxiety became long-term companions on this journey. Ones I did not want. They made everything a challenge.

And I could see how much the people in my life hated my depression and anxiety. It was “low vibe.” Annoying. Irrational. A failure of mental discipline.

Friends left me. Classmates ridiculed me. Boyfriends lectured me. (Then also left me.)

I didn’t realize back then that this was all ableism.

Depression and anxiety aren’t always considered disabilities. They affect everyone differently. They also do not always arise in response to untreated trauma, as mine might have. They are medical issues that can happen to anyone.

People who do not suffer from these conditions have no idea what it is like. It’s not like having a “bad day.” It’s not like “feeling blue.” It’s not like getting the jitters before a big performance review.

Living with depression and anxiety (or even just one of them) is exhausting. You never know how you are going to feel from one day — hell, from one hour — to the next. You might be chugging along just fine and then find that you can barely function for weeks at a time.

This isn’t about having a weak mindset. This isn’t about staying positive. This isn’t about being uptight or sensitive.

Frankly, fuck all of that. And fuck everyone who has told me I’m “low vibe.”

At this stage in my life, I am finally understanding that I have health problems that I cannot control. The beliefs and shame that I have taken on about these health problems were foisted upon me by an ableist culture that views mental illness as a choice and a weakness.

If I had a broken leg, people would be opening doors for me to help me as I maneuver on my crutches. People would be quick to excuse any choice I made to opt out of activities that would be difficult for me in that state. And no one would ever accuse me of “not wanting to get better” because I hadn’t “improved my mindset” in order to magically fuse my bone back together.

They’d understand that having a broken bone is incredibly inconvenient and challenging, that I did not want to experience a broken bone, and that one day, things would improve (until the next injury).

But if you have depression or anxiety…people have a whole different perspective.

As I’m stepping into the second half of my forties, I’ve decided to make friends with my depression and anxiety once and for all. No more judging them. No more considering them a flaw. No more shame.

No more internalized ableism.

And to that end, I’m not going to let people’s unchecked ableism exacerbate these issues. That’s the irony of it all, by the way. When you are already depressed and anxious, having others judge you for a condition you cannot control makes the depression and anxiety all the worse.

Maybe someday, people who do not struggle with depression and anxiety will understand the immense privilege they have of not having to navigate their entire life around feelings they can’t control. Maybe someday, they will understand how unbelievably cruel it is to call someone with depression and anxiety “low vibe,” or to say or imply that they aren’t trying hard enough to “manage their mindset.”

Though we sure have a hell of a long way to go to get there.

In the meantime, I’m trying to reorient myself, using my shame as a signal. It pops up right when it should: the moment someone alerts me about my mental and/or emotional “failings.”

I’m learning to sniff out the ableism like a truffle pig, hungry to set myself straight.

There’s nothing wrong with me. Or anyone else with depression and anxiety. The only thing that’s wrong here is a culture that determined what is “normal,” and then enabled others to shame those who don’t fit that standard.

Remember that the next time you tell someone with depression that they just need to “change their mindset.”

No, I say to you and should’ve said to Leslie all those years ago. You need to change yours.

© Yael Wolfe 2022

Yael Wolfe is a writer, photographer, and creator of Howl. You can find more of her work at yaelwolfe.com.

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