When I made the decision to chronicle my journey I also made myself a promise that I would be real. Often I will put on a face for the crowd and allow everyone else the ease of all is well. However, if I do not share the truth here what is the point of what I am doing?
That being said this is by far the most difficult topic for me to discuss. The reason is that although I advocated as loud as I could for those with mental illness that we are all equal citizens and deserve human rights, I knew I was fighting an uphill battle. As loud as I shouted my voice was always overshadowed by an unspoken acceptance that this equality is not a reality. Individuals’ who suffer from mental illness are one of the most discriminated against classes in the United States. The social stigma associated with mental illness is incredibly strong, cross-cultural and deep-rooted. I honestly do not believe that I will live to see the day this injustice is resolved, but I retain hope that generations to follow will see this transformation.
Stigma, in this context, is defined as “a symbol of disgrace” (Webster 2012). Some well-known historical examples of social stigma include mental illness, physical deformity/disability, and of course those associated with race, color, creed, religion, etc.
There are many reasons, too many to address here why this social stigma exists, but I have studied this at length. In my trainings I would often emphasize to new staff that it is important that we all understand that mental illness is no different from a physical illness such as diabetes, yet we as a society do not view them in the same light. That it is our job as advocates for the mentally ill to try and change this regrettable fact
Through working in the mental health system for many years I learned a great deal about people in the field. Some believe in a cause and commit all they have to it; these are the people who truly do not judge. Then there are those who believe in the treatment of mental illness and the greater good, but somehow still see themselves as being different from those they serve. It is the latter group that I am most aware of as I write today.
I feel confident stating that I was good at my job, whichever role it may have been, while working in the field of mental health. Well, that is not totally true, when I was assigned Thanksgiving at my first group home, I could have poisoned them all. I was twenty-three and had just moved out of my mother’s house less than a year prior, I was in way over my head. Luckily, my first case management client, Mr. X, came to my rescue. See, Mr. X was great in the kitchen, and he was nice enough to care about me so he helped me prepare Thanksgiving dinner for the home and I got to save face. Incidentally, Mr. X also taught me how to utilize the mirrors when driving the big van, how to pump gas, and how to use the company credit card to pay for the gas! Mind you, this is a man several people had dismissed over the years; he would talk to himself continuously and make repetitive arm movements and gesture, none of them obscene however. That was unless you asked him a question, and then he would cease to self-talk and answer your question, even have a conversation, and then return to his internal conversation.
Throughout my career I always made note of the staff that came across as judgmental, it is amazing the amount of emotion and negativity that can come through in a staff member’s (including management) progress reports when reviewing clinical notes!
I would make a mental note and work with these individuals in a way that would promote objectivity and how significant a factor this is when working in the field of mental health in particular. The point being I know how many individuals in society, even those within the mental health system, who, knowingly or not, are in fact judgmental when it comes to mental illness.
Therefore, the hardest part of this whole process for me is the depression, experiencing these feelings that are also intertwined with beliefs that others would view me as being inadequate. That admitting I am suffering from depression somehow discredits my education, work experience, skills and talents. My close friends and I have an inside joke (well I guess not anymore) that I throw out as often as I can that I have a Master of Criminal Justice degree from Boston University. We make fun of my pompous voice and tip-upped nose, and I always reply with if can’t use it I at least have to tell everyone I got it, the damn thing cost me a fortune!
Truth is, I am always trying to validate myself; that although I carry a “label” I am still worthy of being heard and what I have to say is still valid. Truth is it is probably more valid having been on both ends of the system.
Depression is so difficult to cope with not because of the overwhelming sadness, but instead because the shame. I know from my years of experience in the field, an individual’s support network can be enormously significant in successful recovery and management of various types of mental illnesses. Often times this was a difficult barrier to overcome for people, and many had only providers as support. I had always attributed this in most part to the fact that many of these individuals had been alienated from their family and friends due to the symptoms of their respective illnesses, as well as, the social stigma associated with mental illness.
Today I have a new perspective. Due to the shame, which correlates with the social stigma, I see the magnitude of the barrier toward establishing a network of supportive people. We are afraid to admit we are having a problem with depression to the very people we should be counting on as our support network.
How do we change this? Like anything else I suppose, break the cycle of silence.
~Hello, my name is Johanna and I am struggling with depression.
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