The scarecrow wanted a brain. The tin man a heart. And the lion – well he lacked courage.
If your brain malfunctions, stigma abounds, while physical maladies are considered acceptable and worthy of attention. A lot of people find mental illness confronting. And somehow that confrontingness (not a real word) is considered acceptable in a way that would not be okay if I studiously avoided someone with eczema. Trying to tell people that mental health is stigmatised by society in general, is like trying to fly to the moon. It’s cold, lonely and damn near impossible.
It takes courage to navigate the land of physical and mental illness – equal courage. In the physical world, if you develop a diagnosable (or non-diagnosable) condition, life changes as you adapt to a new normal. But for the most part, there is acceptance. When it comes to mental illness, the perception remains that it is a choice and therefore does not warrant the same level of care and concern. Sometimes it just elicits frustration or annoyance.
Ill health is never a choice
People with no diagnosed mental illness will never understand the stigma. They never will because they don’t have a diagnosis. And yet everyone experiences poor mental health at some stage – depression and anxiety being the big two. And there are things you just don’t say to anybody going through mental health issues – be they short or long term.
Do you remember the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz?
I would not be just a muffin’,
My head all full of stuffin’,
My heart all full of pain;
And perhaps I’d deserve you and be
Even worthy of you
If I only had a brain
“My head all full stuffin’ and my heart all full of pain.” That’s what it feels like. Having mental illness means I’m considered faulty by people who don’t even realise they’ve judged me. Everything I say or do falls back on being “not normal”. Not just someone overwhelmed with stress. Or exhausted from lack of sleep. Not someone who made a mistake or a unique individual wandering through life with all the rest of the unique individuals. Now I’m someone with mental health issues and everything I say or do is coloured by that label. Depressed, anxious, bipolar, borderline, hypersensitive, emotionally reactive. Eating disorder. Sleep disorder. I’m labels. I’m not just me. Everything about me is considered disordered and I’m no longer treated the way I was five years ago when I was just a “normal” person struggling with too much stress.
And it pisses me off
Sure – I have bad days (don’t you?)
Sure – I get stressed about things (don’t you?)
Sure – there are times when I don’t cope (don’t you?)
Yes – I have an eating disorder and a sleep disorder (you probably don’t) and my way of reacting to the world is unique to me. But you’re unique too. Do you have issues I don’t have? Are you prone to drinking too much? Do you have anger issues? Are you a workaholic? Are you technophobic? Do you struggle to navigate a car? Are you tone deaf? We all have issues. Some issues are bigger than others but mental illness is the one that is stigmatised. If you haven’t collapsed into a heap and laid your life wide open for everyone to have an opinion about, then you don’t know whether or not there’s stigma.
Men don’t understand menstruation. They never will because they don’t menstruate
This is what anyone in a minority routinely experiences – people don’t understand.
Imagine you’ve just reached the top of a mountain and then as you descend, you slip and break your ankle. (I can imagine this because I did it). How long would you walk on that ankle before you give in, accept defeat and sit down? Five minutes? Thirty minutes? Two hours? A whole day?
Imagine your psychological pain is as bad as your broken ankle. How long do you ride it out? Five days? Thirty days? Two months? A whole year? How long do you live through that pain before you give in, accept defeat and sit down? What does sitting down look like? It’s different for everyone but for a small number of us, accepting defeat results in a suicide attempt. Is that a great idea? Of course not. Does it solve the problem? No. Does it seem like there is absolutely no other solution at the time? Yes. Does that mean I haven’t sought support – both personal and professional? Of course I’ve sought support. But it has limitations – it doesn’t take away the problem or the pain. There’s no morphine or plaster casts for a broken soul. There’s only time and a loving circle of people from near and far, to help you search for a new dawn that is promised but can’t be seen.
Let me tell you what it’s like to RECEIVE a mental health diagnosis
It can be a relief – because suddenly you understand why you can’t cope. It can be a relief because now there are treatment options – pharmacological, psychological, or supplementary. It can be frightening because now you’ve lost your identity and you’re not the person you thought you were. It can make you second guess everything you say, do and think. It can be distressing if you’re on medication because now you have a heap of medications that really suck – primarily because a lot of them cause weight gain and there aren’t many people out there who feel comfortable with that. It can be lonely because now your friends and family don’t understand and they start second-guessing everything you’ve ever said or done and relabelling it with your diagnosis. It can be humiliating because now you’ve been labeled.
Like everything in life, there are exceptions to the rule. Of course, there are people who do not stigmatise mental health. Of course, there are people who are stigmatised for their physical health. But for the most part, society deems it acceptable to be physically ill but not mentally ill. And that is doing us all a huge disservice. Rejecting and overcoming stigma would be one giant leap for mankind.