We Don’t Talk About It
When I was first diagnosed with depression (later bipolar disorder), my family was somewhat less than understanding. My father was concerned that he might have to go to family counseling, with the implication that it would involve analyzing or blaming him. My mother informed me that Prozac, which I was prescribed, was “a ticking time bomb” and later said that she thought that if I got a better job, I wouldn’t be depressed anymore. And my sister was dismissive about paying someone a lot of money just so I could talk.
I admit that I did not handle this terribly well. I missed the opportunity to educate my family about these psychological conditions. (I did tell my sister that I was going to a community mental health service that had a sliding scale for payment.) In my defense, I was new to the concepts too, and had barely begun to educate myself about them. I did gradually learn more, but their initial reactions kept me from saying much about it to my family.
As stigma goes, this was pretty mild. They didn’t try to tell me there was nothing wrong with me. They didn’t blame or shame me for reaching out for therapy (other than my sister). But because of this, I didn’t receive much support from my family which would have made my journey easier. That only happened when I married a man who knew something about psychology and learned what would help and what wouldn’t.
Stigma can be a familial problem, but it also happens at a societal level. But mental health concerns are very low on the list of many legislators’ concerns and priorities. Some have denied that mental illness even exists or responded to it by clearing away the unhoused or creating sober houses. Mental illness is seen as a consequence of PTSD, which is talked about mostly in the context of veterans, seldom about other causes like abuse. Also, most of the fundraising for veterans seems to concentrate on limb loss and traumatic brain injury. If funds are going to specific mental disorders other than PTSD, it isn’t emphasized, despite the need.
A lot of what we hear about mental illness is about SMI or serious mental illness. And that often gets conflated with the problems of homelessness, addiction, and violence. But what about all the people with Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety Disorders, Personality Disorders, and even Schizophrenia who live in homes and families, who have families of their own, and who have jobs? They’re very rarely talked about. They don’t get emergency funding. They don’t require street psychiatry, emergency housing, forced commitment, and other services that are needed for the most severely ill. They’re not high-profile.
They’re called “high-functioning” and then largely ignored, left to deal with their disorders on their own. Many of them miss out on the therapy, meds, and lifestyle changes that might help them, either because they don’t know where to go or don’t have the funds to access them. Insurance pays for quick fixes of 6-8 weeks, which are the merest band-aid on their problems. Supportive families, biological or chosen, can help them maintain their relationships, living situations, and jobs, but public attention isn’t focused on them in any meaningful way. There are ad campaigns that say “It’s okay not to be okay” and encourage friends to reach out, but they’re vague and short on what to do when you realize you need help. Hotlines focus on suicide and self-harm. They’re certainly needed, but so are resources for the day-to-day, less dramatic disorders.
Stigma, confusion, lack of education, ignorance, and even hostility keep us from the conversations that might lead to actual, useful change. Let’s open up those conversations with our families, friends, coworkers, the press, local and national government, and anyone else who’ll listen. Blogging and maintaining a Facebook group (Hope for Troubled Minds) are among my contributions to the effort.
I’ll keep trying if you will.
Janet Coburn
Bipolar Me 
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