Ending the mental health stigma

At the end of last semester, The Catalyst published a deeply personal editorial submitted anonymously by someone who suffers anxiety and depression. Anonymous rightly criticized Colorado College’s approach to mental health problems and really struck the truth when he said, “Those with mental health disorders at C.C. live in fear. This entire community is not that understanding about issues that plague a great deal of this campus.”

The stigma of mental illness is alive and well at C.C. And it is stigma like this that causes someone to feel the need to remain anonymous when writing an article about his own personal experience. If Anonymous wrote with his own identity, publicly “outing” himself, the repercussions would be impossible to determine ahead of time. Would all your friends suddenly not know what to say to you? Would you become an outcast? Would you suddenly find an outpouring of support? Maybe too much support?

Anonymous’s article, and the reasons why he is anonymous, inspired me to write this piece and get it published under my real name. I cannot stress enough that I am not criticizing Anonymous for keeping his identity secret. Anyone with a mental health issue knows how intimidating it can be to talk publicly about your problems, and I would never demand anyone do it without identity protection if they didn’t absolutely want to. But I’ve decided I do absolutely want to, and I hope I’ll be able to live with the consequences.

Anonymous told you a personal story. I could easily do that and it would still be a completely different article, because every person’s experience with mental illness is different. But instead, in hopes of helping people understand mental illness in general, I will list and explain some real problems and a few common – and sometimes contradictory – myths concerning mental illness, using anecdotal examples when helpful. I’d like to make the disclaimer that it’s very possible that several of these examples aren't true for some people, but just in my experience and discussions with others, these are a few issues I’ve found in common.

Because I personally suffer from clinical depression, my explanations will center on this particular illness, but obviously, there are plenty of other mental health issues. The following list is of common misconceptions others have about depression and issues I’ve faced with my depression. Some of these themes are taken from a discussion we had at Grow, the mental health group on campus, before winter break, after we read Anonymous’s article.

1. People with clinical depression are seriously sick and a danger to themselves.
It’s not that depression isn’t a serious illness. As one who suffers from it, there have been times in my life when I would have traded my self-loathing thoughts for any amount of physical pain in exchange. However, when I revealed my illness to a couple of my coworkers, they exploded in worry and pity. They told me they were here if I wanted to talk, that I could always call them, and they said, “DON’T THINK THAT WAY, your life is SO VALUABLE, ROSIE.”

While I appreciate their concern, a very small percentage of depressed people are teetering on the ledge. We don’t need to be talked down. It is something we live with constantly. It can be excruciatingly painful at times, but I know that although I have wished for death countless times, I personally have never, ever, ever been a suicide risk.
2. People with clinical depression should just snap out of it.

At last year’s Mental Health Awareness Day, a panel of all the Boettcher counselors was invited to answer questions. At one point, Boettcher counselor Pam Shipp addressed the problem people face when they don’t know what to say to a depressed friend because they don’t know how the friend is feeling. Shipp said something like, “Yes you do; we’ve all been depressed!” It has stuck in my mind, because I couldn’t believe a counselor said that. It frankly made me realize that if I ever go to Boettcher for my counseling, it won’t be to her. No, you have not “all” been depressed. Having sad days and/or occasionally feeling bad about yourself is simply not the same.

Depression causes feelings to contradict facts. I have had incredibly productive days, but if I start thinking too much, suddenly, I will feel like I have done nothing of value that day. I can remind myself of all that I’ve accomplished, but that feeling of worthlessness will not be persuaded. It will stay a dead weight in the pit of my stomach, no matter how much logical argument I throw at it. I’m convinced that’s not something that “we’ve all” experienced, especially not on a regular basis.

Likewise, people in our lives have tried to relate to us, saying they’ve dealt with similar issues, before closing with an incredibly discomforting word of advice like, “just look on the bright side,” or “I just learned to get over it.” If you can just get over it, you probably don’t have clinical depression, you have bad days.

3.Clinical depression is just a sickness, so there’s plenty else you can focus on. You simply need to distract yourself.

For me, my depression comprises a large part of who I am. There is no distracting myself from it, because I view the world through its lens. A friend recently told me I should have more confidence in myself. I thought about it and responded that if I did that, I would be a completely different person. The idea of feeling good about myself is so foreign to me, it’s scary. And the fact that I am scared of it is scary. If I were not depressed, I wouldn’t know who I was. Just like many healthy people can’t comprehend depression, many of us find it utterly incomprehensible when we see someone who thinks a lot of themselves.
4. Don’t mess up your body with medication unless you’re practically on the verge of suicide, pills are terrible.

I just want to scream at these people. Telling a depressed person that they shouldn’t take meds until they’re almost at the point of no return is like telling a diabetic person that they shouldn’t take insulin until they’re going into sugar shock. This is a chemical problem in the brain; this is not just people having odd thoughts for some reason. This is an illness that needs to be treated, just like others.

5. A problem I often come across: differentiating reasonable feelings from hysterical feelings brought on by a depressive episode.

For example, at various times earlier this semester, a friend leaves an event shortly after I get there. I find myself feeling somewhat excluded during a dinner conversation. Right before winter break, I get turned down for a job I really wanted and a guy I just started seeing calls it off.

I can tell myself logically that all of these things happened because of reasons that had little to nothing to do with me. But that doesn’t stop a chemically-imbalanced brain from taking it personally. What fundamental flaw makes all these people want nothing to do with me? I can even read that sentence and know that it is a dramatic exaggeration, but I still feel it.

And what can someone do with those feelings? They aren’t justified, so you don’t want to make people feel guilty for acting normal, just because you aren’t. It’s hard to decide when you deserve to get your feelings validated if you a) aren’t sure if you’re being reasonable and b) aren’t sure whether you “deserve” anything good at all.

6. Another problem: things people say that cause legitimate hurt feelings, but no good way to approach it.

During a recent depressive episode, a friend of mine and I were walking through Worner and happened to look at the Mental Health poster board. I made some comment about it, and my friend, who did not know my condition, said, “Yeah…there are a lot of crazy people at this school.”

He didn’t mean it to be offensive to anyone. He probably wasn’t thinking of any implications of the word “crazy”. I wasn’t mad at him. It was just intensely awkward for me. I have had times in my life when I’ve been terrified that I’m crazy. It’s such a powerful word with such intimidating connotations. I’ve had my feelings completely contradict my logic and I worry if that makes me insane, because I cannot shake this completely nonsensical feeling. I don’t want to feel insane.

The social stigmas surrounding mental illness could take up a book, let alone a Catalyst article, so I can’t cover them all. Instead, I recommend anyone who wants support or to just learn more come to a Grow meeting at Sacred Grounds on Mondays at 8 p.m. Honestly, these meetings have done wonders for me. I don’t know how I got through my first semester of freshman year without them.

One of the most frustrating things about being depressed for me is being unable to explain myself. I want people to understand how serious this condition is, how much it affects my everyday life, but I don’t want them to think I’m really unstable or a risk. I want people to be sensitive about it, but I don’t want them to treat me like a china doll; I just want things to seem normal.

The best thing I can think of to do to fight the stigma is to come out of the closet. There is a chemical imbalance in my brain that fills me often with thoughts of death, of self-loathing, of inferiority, of helplessness, of inadequacy. I often think I am not worth anyone’s time. The same applies to many, many people on this campus. That is our reality, and I’m ready to come out with it.

It would mean everything to me if a single person was inspired to come out to his/her friends about his/her condition because of this article. It would be even more impressive if another person decided to write something from their own perspective, with their own name. (Again, not a criticism of Anonymous.) So this is, essentially, my first step. I have concerns about submitting this, because it could easily make readers wonder more about me than about the issue. I could just be looked at as a crazy girl. But someone has to risk that. Maybe I can change some minds.