Yesterday, I had a blog published for MIND, the UK mental health charity. There were a number of things that made me decide to speak out publicly about this, which I want to say more about in a minute. But the strange thing was, that when I saw the feed from MIND on my facebook feed announcing my blog, I went to press share on my own timeline and then hesitated and decided not to. Why? Because despite deciding to speak out about this, it is one thing to do this in the safe forum of MIND, a place people go to to learn more about mental health or to receive support, and where I am anonymous despite having my name and photo published. It is yet another to publicise to everyone I know that I suffer from depression and anxiety.
You can look at it as my Mum does, in that there are many things we don't share publicly and that's true. But this sits uncomfortably for me. My decision to write for MIND was motivated by a) a desire to share my story with others who might suffer in the same way and b), and perhaps most importantly, a desire to become part of the growing conversation about how to change the discrimination and stigma surrounding mental health. And that can only happen through some personal disclosure in order to generate a public discussion about a situation that, without the right change in attitudes, already cripples lives and is increasingly cripple the world. And it doesn't have to.
20 - 25% of adults suffer from mental health problems in their lives, 1 in 10 children today will experience a major depressive episode by the age of 14 and 1 in 5 by the time they graduate, and the World Health Organisation predict that by 2020 lack of mental well being will be the world's most debilitating disease. This needs talking about publicly and that is why I am prepared to make personal disclosures.
Two things stop me speaking out more about the way I think and feel and the problems I have with my mental health. The first is that many people can't seem to see grey, so that having a mental health condition becomes all they see about a person, which is damaging at the best of times, let alone when they may be ignorant about what it means to have mental health problems. The second is that people judge me as weak and discriminate against me.
I used to think this way too. Until I realised the irony in that view. After surviving 1.5 years on a psychiatric ward, being sectioned and a year and a half in rehab, it was clear that I was far from weak. In fact, I and many of the people I met during that time, were not only some of the strongest people I had ever met having survived dark mental places, but also some of the most compassionate, sensitive, loving, giving, courageous people I had ever met and that there was probably a correlation. As I began the hard climb into recovery, I also rediscovered the me that had been obliterated by the illness that smothered my mind and I remembered that I am not just an illness, but a myriad of many pieces, some good some bad, some weak some strong, some beautiful, some ugly and that there isn't another human being on the earth who isn't that way.
For a while I talked about it. Naming my illness was part of taking responsibility for it. And I was responsible. I recovered from anorexia, an illness which only has a 15% recovery rate. But depression and anxiety have continued to live with me and I've found these harder to talk about; maybe it's always easier to talk about adversities you've overcome than those you are still struggling with.
I recently came across Helen Stephens' photo diary about living with epilepsy. Despite being a different condition in many ways, her description of the way her condition affects her and those around her, including the shame and guilt she feels for having the condition, resonated strongly and gave birth to the analogy I wrote about in my blog for MIND, comparing mental health with physical health and highlighting how differently society treats them, largely due to ignorance and fear, as is so often the case with prejudice and discrimination.
Like this fellow MIND blogger, I believe we need a culture change. No-one is immune. We need to pay attention to ourselves and to each other, to mental as well as physical well being. We need to be responsible for our well being and for the impact we have on others and the world around us. And I believe this starts with disclosure, honest conversation and open hearts and minds.
You can look at it as my Mum does, in that there are many things we don't share publicly and that's true. But this sits uncomfortably for me. My decision to write for MIND was motivated by a) a desire to share my story with others who might suffer in the same way and b), and perhaps most importantly, a desire to become part of the growing conversation about how to change the discrimination and stigma surrounding mental health. And that can only happen through some personal disclosure in order to generate a public discussion about a situation that, without the right change in attitudes, already cripples lives and is increasingly cripple the world. And it doesn't have to.
20 - 25% of adults suffer from mental health problems in their lives, 1 in 10 children today will experience a major depressive episode by the age of 14 and 1 in 5 by the time they graduate, and the World Health Organisation predict that by 2020 lack of mental well being will be the world's most debilitating disease. This needs talking about publicly and that is why I am prepared to make personal disclosures.
Two things stop me speaking out more about the way I think and feel and the problems I have with my mental health. The first is that many people can't seem to see grey, so that having a mental health condition becomes all they see about a person, which is damaging at the best of times, let alone when they may be ignorant about what it means to have mental health problems. The second is that people judge me as weak and discriminate against me.
I used to think this way too. Until I realised the irony in that view. After surviving 1.5 years on a psychiatric ward, being sectioned and a year and a half in rehab, it was clear that I was far from weak. In fact, I and many of the people I met during that time, were not only some of the strongest people I had ever met having survived dark mental places, but also some of the most compassionate, sensitive, loving, giving, courageous people I had ever met and that there was probably a correlation. As I began the hard climb into recovery, I also rediscovered the me that had been obliterated by the illness that smothered my mind and I remembered that I am not just an illness, but a myriad of many pieces, some good some bad, some weak some strong, some beautiful, some ugly and that there isn't another human being on the earth who isn't that way.
For a while I talked about it. Naming my illness was part of taking responsibility for it. And I was responsible. I recovered from anorexia, an illness which only has a 15% recovery rate. But depression and anxiety have continued to live with me and I've found these harder to talk about; maybe it's always easier to talk about adversities you've overcome than those you are still struggling with.
I recently came across Helen Stephens' photo diary about living with epilepsy. Despite being a different condition in many ways, her description of the way her condition affects her and those around her, including the shame and guilt she feels for having the condition, resonated strongly and gave birth to the analogy I wrote about in my blog for MIND, comparing mental health with physical health and highlighting how differently society treats them, largely due to ignorance and fear, as is so often the case with prejudice and discrimination.
Like this fellow MIND blogger, I believe we need a culture change. No-one is immune. We need to pay attention to ourselves and to each other, to mental as well as physical well being. We need to be responsible for our well being and for the impact we have on others and the world around us. And I believe this starts with disclosure, honest conversation and open hearts and minds.