It’s Wednesday night and we are all seated around a rectangular table. Eye contact is non-existent. Some of the women look haggard, with circles under their eyes and barely-brushed hair. Others look like they just stepped out of an office: polished and with makeup “on point,” their high heels click tentatively into the room. They are tall and short, thin and thick, and they have this in common: they want to feel better, and don’t know how.

There’s some light conversation as names are briefly exchanged, and we open our books and dive into the topic for the night.

As we work our way through the material, it happens. “It’s probably just me,” Susan says, before continuing her thought.

“It’s probably just me” properly translates to a much more powerful phrase: “I’m the only one, and I’m all alone.”

This is the evil that hides in mental illness, whether it’s depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder — name your flavor, and I promise isolation and loneliness thrive within (well, perhaps with the one exception of narcissism).

“It’s probably just me” is debilitating and self-stigmatizing. It stops us from reaching out to others for help.

When I’m the only one who has these thoughts, no one wants to be my friend. When I struggle to be cheery, no one wants to be around me or they will struggle, too (and it’s my fault). 

When I am able to put a good face on my illness, no one knows how I’m really feeling — and I don’t dare tell the truth or they’ll leave me. Even in a crowd of friends, I am an island.

“It’s probably just me” properly translates to a much more powerful phrase: “I’m the only one, and I’m all alone.”

No matter how I turn, I am left alone and lonely. Weird. Cast out. Ostracized, even if it’s just in my own mind.

The irony of “it’s probably just me” is that it never is. In fact, I finally made a rule in my support groups: We’ve banned this phrase and its close cousin, “I’m sorry.” (“I’m sorry” shows up when someone shares something honest that they think will make someone else sad or that shows how much hurt they are truly in.)

One in four people experiences a depression at some point in their life. Three in 100 people live with some form of bipolar disorder. One in six lives with anxiety. When we look at the real numbers, we see the lie in “It’s probably just me.”

Here are a few practical tips that help us break out of the isolation we feel. Some of these are harder than others, so be sensitive to where you are on your recovery journey.

1) Take baby steps.

Loretta wanted to make a doctor appointment, but just felt overwhelmed by it. Instead, she broke it down into baby steps.

In the first step, she texted a friend for a recommendation.

On the next, she saved that name and phone number on her phone.

In the last step, she simply had to click the name to start the call.

Breaking down any task into small parts (even tiny parts!) will make it more manageable and help you actually get it done.

2) Find a support group.

There are churches that offer “Living Grace” studies (a group I run locally) and others that have “Celebrate Recovery” programs that also address mental health concerns. Most of these programs are not simple “just turn your worries over to God” approaches; they offer real, practical, evidence-based tips that will help you heal.

If you are uncomfortable with the idea of a church-sponsored group, call a local therapist or psychiatrist and find one through them.

The best part of a support group is that it proves the lie to “it’s probably just me.” When you are in a support group, you have 100% certainty that someone else in that group knows how you feel and has felt that way before (or feels that way now). You feel less alone.

Here’s what I want you to know: It’s not just you. You are not alone. If no one else, I am in this fight with you. I am on your side.

3) Accept every offer of help you get.

People don’t offer help they don’t want to give (and if they do, that’s their own issue to deal with). Accepting and receiving help is as much a part of a relationship as giving and sharing are.

4) Join a small group of some sort.

This might be taking an art or photography class at a local community college. Or it could be a Bible study through your church, a knitting group that meets at a local yarn store, or some other activity.

Whatever it is, get yourself into a position to be exposed to people who have a similar interest to yours — and where your illness doesn’t have to be center stage to the relationship.

5) Join a Facebook group specific to your illness. (Yes! Technology helps here!)

I belong to three Facebook groups specific to bipolar disorder. I like them because they remind me that the symptoms I have are not unique to me, and it helps me remember that I have a “real” illness and am not “crazy.” It helps me combat my feelings of isolation.

It’s also why I love the Wounded Birds Ministry Facebook group: while it’s not diagnosis-specific, I know I can find people who share my experiences.

6) Know who to call, and for what.

My stay-at-home-mom friends are people I can call on if I need an emergency pickup for my kid, or who can help me get to the doctor.

My next door neighbor is amazing for when I just need a break at the end of a tough day.

My church friends are wonderful if I need meal-train help, or need a reminder that God loves me even when I can’t experience him.

My girlfriends from high-school are great for when I need a giggle.

My support-group friends remind me that I’m not alone in the fight. I can cry and rant and share my honest thoughts, and know I’m not alone. They give me hugs.

My husband walks with me through it all. Sometimes he takes over laundry, housework, and paying the bills, even though those are “my” jobs in our division of household labor.

Participating in our community and accepting help from those around us is not easy, especially when “it’s probably just me” dominates our thoughts. The fears we have of bringing others down or being ostracized for being honest about how we truly feel are self-stigmatizing and cause us to pull back and isolate when we need our friends the most.

One in four people experiences a depression at some point in their life. Three in 100 people live with some form of bipolar disorder. One in six lives with anxiety. When we look at the real numbers, we know: It’s not just me.

The more we break out of our isolation, the better we will feel. The more we learn to lean on our friends and support network as we traverse our journey to mental health, the easier it is to rebound once the storm passes.

Here’s what I want you to know: It’s not just you. You are not alone. If no one else, I am in this fight with you. I am on your side.

Lord, I ask you to watch over those who feel alone, those who are afraid to ask for or receive help. Feeling alone, God, is terrifying. While I know you are with us all the time, you designed us to crave human connection as well. Help us to find and experience true human connection, and remind us that we are not alone in this world, and especially in this storm.

Have you chosen to walk through God’s door to put on your new self? What’s holding you back? What encourages you?