Talking Back to Herbert, My Mental Illness, Improved My Mental Health

I realized what my sickness was versus what was truth.

Trying to Handle My Unhelpful Thoughts

“She’s annoyed with you, and no wonder. You hardly do anything to help,” he said to me, many times.

“He’s probably not interested in you anymore because you share too much,” he’s also said to me, many times.

These words come not from another person, but from the thoughts in my head. These words come from Herbert, my depression and anxiety voice.

I’ve heard before that separating your voice from your mental illness’s voice can be helpful in recovery. By separating these two voices, you can more easily listen to the healthy parts of your mind and realize you are more than your mental illness. I’ve always loved Youtuber and therapist Kati Morton’s video on how to do this.

Going to therapy and learning tools such as these really changed my perspective. I’d heard plenty of similar suggestions— like “watch your unhelpful thoughts float down a river like a leaf” — but those never worked for me. As someone who’s highly emotional and sensitive, I couldn’t get myself to think in that way. I felt too emotionally charged to slow down and engage in that type of mindfulness that could theoretically improve my emotion regulation.

Even arguing with Herbert doesn’t always cut it. If I’m too far gone in my emotional mind to reach my wise mind — like dialectical behavior therapy would say — those words of Herbert’s sound too much like my own. I’m too depressed and immobile to separate the voices and stand up to Herbert in an effective way.

But considering that so little seems to work for me when I’m stuck in my emotions, the fact that arguing with Herbert helps sometimes means a lot. I recently named Herbert so I can further distinguish the two of us, giving him a name that’s easy to make fun of. (Sorry, Herberts!)

How and Why Talking Back Can Help

This tool worked for Jenni Schaefer, who wrote Life Without Ed, a book about talking back to Ed, her eating disorder voice. She thought of Ed as an abusive boyfriend, and by seeing him and his words as separate from herself, she could more easily “break up” with him.

Externalizing our mental illness in this way is a type of narrative therapy. Through narrative therapy, we realize reality isn’t objective and a lot of factors can influence it, ranging from our perceptions, someone’s tone and more. Through these factors, we create “stories” we hold on to that influence our lives. By looking into these stories — where they came from, why we perceived them a certain way and how they affect us — we can improve our lives and realize our emotions aren’t realities. We can challenge unhelpful thoughts, better understand ourselves and see what caused our current reasoning that may or may not hold true.

So every time I can, I remind myself the negative, unhelpful voice I’m hearing is Herbert’s, and he’s wrong. I work on speaking up to him as much as I can, all while trying to stay self-compassionate and patient with myself. Like Robert Frost said:

“The best way out is always through.”

Tackling our thoughts and emotions head-on can feel scary and emotional, but we have to confront them and realize their invalidity. We have to accept our thoughts and situation as well as how we can change them.

When Herbert says “She’s annoyed with you, and no wonder. You hardly do anything to help,” I’m learning to respond with “She hasn’t given me any sign she’s annoyed with me, and she’s understanding of the immobility my depression can cause. She knows I’m doing my best; she wants me to take care of myself.”

When Herbert says “He’s probably not interested in you anymore because you share too much,” I’m learning to say “It’s okay to be who I am, and someday someone will love me for that, not despite that. He’s probably just busy, but even if you’re right, I’ll know he’s not worth my time and attention. I’ll find someone who loves me well.”

In those situations, I also try to remind myself of this Rupi Kaur poem:

“If you are broken / and he has left you / do not question / whether you were / enough / The problem was / you were so enough / he was not able to carry it.”

Kaur’s thinking here provides us a way to reframe our thoughts. We are so enough, and we are so rich with life and experiences, they can’t handle how great and insightful we are.

Adding a little sass when talking to Herbert can also help significantly. I’ll add, “It’s cute you thought you could upset me, but I know how dumb you are.” Or “You’re hilarious. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

These humorous Tumblr posts inspired that sass and have helped me greatly:

Feelings Aren’t Facts

Ultimately, though, we have to realize feelings aren’t facts. Just because we feel like something is true doesn’t mean it is. This is especially clear when we know we struggle with mental illness, which warps our thinking and perceptions.

On Psychology Today, Dr. Barton Goldsmith wrote that emotions can come from a lot of non-factual places. They can come from misunderstandings, triggers or anxieties. In these situations, Dr. Goldsmith suggests becoming curious about where those thoughts might be coming from and getting an outside perspective.

How to Help Yourself Today

While we can’t always control the first thought or worry that pops into our heads, we can control the second one, especially with hard work. We can remind ourselves of the truth and of our worth.

Today, I encourage you to name the voice in your head that says you aren’t good enough or worthy enough or loved. This voice doesn’t have to be a mental illness one — it can be any voice that makes you feel negatively.

Name that voice and talk back to it. Think about what you would tell a friend dealing with those thoughts and tell yourself that instead. Talk back to the unhelpful voice in your head with sass, conviction and truth, reaching out if you need support.