I read an article today about mental illness and there were some really good points in it. You know how sometimes you read something and think to yourself that it’s exactly what you might have said except you haven’t ever managed to put those words together in just the right kind of way to actually do that?
I decided to go public about my condition late last year in the hope that it may encourage some other people to take that first step and seek professional help.Shortly after featuring in a newspaper article and a television current affairs piece, my wife and I took our young son to the Perth Royal Show.
The reaction to what I had done from total strangers was quite astounding. Many people I had never met came up to me that night to express their support and encouragement for my rehabilitation.
But what struck me most of all were the first few words that came out of their mouths. Without fail, they either said "you were very courageous" or "you were very brave" to have spoken so publicly about your condition.
I later reflected on those opening words and it indicated to me that we still have a significant way to go before mental illness is embraced within society like most other physical complaints.
Had my media appearances chronicled a battle with cancer or some other serious disease, I doubt people would have come forward and called me brave or courageous. I would think that the most common opening words might have been along the lines of "sorry to hear about your illness" or "mate, all the best".
But when it comes to admitting a mental illness people automatically seem to view one’s public admission as an act of bravery or courage.
I think it’s because it’s still so misunderstood, you have to be brave because you don’t know if the people you are trying to talk to about your illness are going to be other people who have gone through something similar and so understand, or if they might be people who don’t know what it’s like but know that it’s a genuine problem and are interested in learning more, or if they might be the type of person who will scoff at the possibility that such illnesses even exist and tell you that either you’ve been scammed by the medical profession wanting you to believe you need their drugs and services or that you are a weak person who should basically just pull their socks up. There are comments like that on the article, as well as productive, thoughful non-critical comments. One in particular was well worded:
A big difference between mental illness (e.g. major depression) and diabetes or asthma, is that too many people still believe we are somehow in conscious control of our mental illnesses; that if we just “picked ourselves up” or if we just “don’t worry, be happy” we’d be OK.
It’s not hard to see why this should be the case. People rely on personal experience; everyone knows what it’s like to be down. It’s pretty difficult, therefore, for many people to appreciate that major depression is more than just a slightly scaled up version of the blues.
Plus we have a whole industry in pop psychology that tells us about the power of positive thinking; taking control of our thoughts and therefore our lives. So the attitude becomes, understandably, that surely those who succumb to mental illness just haven’t been trying hard enough!
I think we have a way to go in understanding the conditions, and I think education and openness are key.
by “Yeah so”
Very good points and worded so succinctly. It takes me pages and pages to get those kind of observations out yet I still often feel like I’ve not really expressed myself properly :P As s/he points out in the second paragraph, everyone feels ‘depressed’ sometimes, and having people understand that feeling depressed is not the same as having depression is a difficult thing to achieve. Perhaps it’s partly a result of the words we use: ‘being depressed’ and ‘suffering or having depression’ are very similar phrases. Comparing again to diabetes or asthma, though, we have ways of talking about feeling similar symptoms as those conditions that contain within them an implied transience – ‘I’m feeling puffed out (after that race)’, ‘Whoa! I’m on a sugar high (I shouldn’t have eaten so many easter eggs).’ Being puffed out or having an excess of sugar in your system is not necessarily an out of the ordinary ocurrence, and if and when most people experience those things they will be able to easily identify the causal event. And people recognise that it was the one-off event that did that and that’s what makes it different from the permanent conditions of diabetes and asthma, because when people have those conditions, the puffed out or sugar high effect can happen without a specific cause, because something in your body doesn’t work quite as it should.
I think it’s this difference that it is hard for people to understand. Yes, everyone gets depressed.. but for most of these cases there is still the identifiable causal event. You lost your purse, your period is due, your dog died, your work is moving and it’s extra stressful and that stress manifests as you feeling depressed. When those situations resolve themselves, so too will the feeling of depression. (Or with time, in the dog example, to adjust to the loss.) But when you feel down, unmotivated, defeated, etc, and there hasn’t been a triggering event – that’s what happens when you have depression, as in an actual medical condition vs a feeling.
While there is a place for positive thinking and determination, it can’t take you all the way to being better. It’s effectiveness will depend on how much external support you have providing that same encouragement and how bad your depression is in the first place. In much the same way that reducing your intake of sugary foods can help in the management of diabetes, it’s still not a cure, it doesn’t fix what is broken inside your body.
The problem with mental ilnesses, I think, is that the effect they have on you can alter your behaviour and perception of yourself and your world in a way that most physical illnesses don’t. It’s easy to see how someone with a physical illness or disability experiences the world differently, their orthotic device or walking stick or wheelchair is right there in front of you making it clear. When the problem is inside someone and you can’t see it and you’ve always been in complete control of your feelings and reactions, how do you begin to comprehend that it is a genuine, huge difficulty for many people? How can you imagine a colour you’ve never seen?