After my last post on mental illness, I have had a lot of discussions with friends and family about how to deal with someone who has one, how to cope with it if you have one, what it’s really like to be “mentally ill”, and how those who haven’t dealt with it before often dismiss the seriousness of the issue. So, I thought that I’d write more about mental illness.
Don't forget that it is complicated. But that shouldn’t make us shy away from supporting our friends and family who have a mental illness. If you have never been affected by a one, it is very easy to come across to those that have as dismissive and judgemental. You may not mean it, but you have to realise that you might not understand, you might not get it, and it may not simply be a matter of self-control or willpower.
You know what? There are some issues really don’t affect me. I can let them go in one ear and out the other without getting much response from the organ in between. I know nothing about, say, cars. But get me talking about cats or fantasy books or Taekwondo and I can go on forever. I know nothing about politics, but get me talking about alcoholism or anxiety or obsessive compulsive disorder or depression or self-harm and I can go on forever. Why? I have experienced and been seriously affected by these things. It’s not that I don’t care about cars or politics, it’s just that I am ignorant. Luckily, being ignorant about these things doesn’t really matter (in my opinion). But being ignorant about people and how their inner world works can be harmful in so many ways. I’m going to try and help you understand what mental illness really is, in my (humble) opinion, and why we have such a problem dealing with it.
So here goes. A quick Google search of the definition of mental illness gets this:
“[Mental illness refers to] any of various disorders in which a person's thoughts, emotions, or behaviour are so abnormal as to cause suffering to himself, herself, or other people.”
This definition is great but doesn’t quite do it for me. Another one adds that “[it can be] caused by social, psychological, biochemical, genetic, or other factors, such as infection or head trauma.” The next one says that it includes “any of various forms of psychosis or severe neurosis” and yet another states that it involves “problems serious enough to require psychiatric intervention.”
What is your definition of mental illness?
Maybe that is the biggest problem those with an illness have to face when relating to others. Maybe being “sick” and having depression don’t elicit the same response from you. Maybe you have more sympathy/empathy for the friend with the flu or a broken leg than for the one with bipolar disorder. Do you think that because they have a broken mind, being more “mindful” they would fix it? Here’s an idea: do you also think that someone with a broken arm can be more “armful” and simply be healed? “But,” you say, “they aren’t the same. They are different. You can’t choose to fix your arm, but you can choose to fix your mind.” My answer to that is “have you ever tried to fix your mind when it’s broken?”
I have the feeling that we sometimes struggle to accept that people are broken in more ways than just physically. Maybe it’s because accepting brokenness in others will force us to look at the brokenness we have ourselves. But, hang on, maybe you really do want to help, it’s just that you don’t know how. Or perhaps you’re just trying to keep yourself and your loved ones safe. I often struggle with the balance between looking after myself and sacrificing my time and energy for others. But it doesn’t take much energy to tell someone that they are loved. It doesn’t take much time to listen to someone talk about how they are feeling. You don’t have to be their therapist, but you can be attentive and open. Listening is one of the most powerful tools you can use to help those you love.
There is nothing more comforting than opening up to someone who says “I know what you mean, I feel that way too sometimes” or “that sounds really hard, it’s obviously been a big struggle for you.” As soon as someone starts talking about feelings that I relate to, I make sure that they know that they are not alone. When you have a mental illness, you really do feel isolated, like there is no one else that is going through what you are going through. When you realise that others know how you feel, don’t you immediately feel a bit better? I know that when I struggle with my study, I can feel like I’m the only one. But talking to my classmates, I realise that everyone has similar issues and the weight comes off my shoulders. I remember walking through campus, feeling my anxiety flaring up, and suddenly feeling like I was alone. If I could read the minds of all those around me I would find that there were others thinking the same thing. The more I talk to people, the more I realise that so many of us have these problems. The majority of people I know have seen, or are seeing, a counsellor for various reasons. We all need someone to talk to. Is your fear, ignorance, or judgement of mental illness stopping you from being that someone?
The point of this spiel was to try and make you understand that the way you see mental illness can actually affect those that struggle with one. You may think that it’s not your problem. But chances are, most of the people you know have one or know someone with one. As always, I will try to illustrate. A very close friend of mine had a serious drinking problem. They drunk two bottles of wine each night and were embarrassing if they were around other people. They were, by definition, an alcoholic. They couldn’t not drink. They were completely addicted. But you see, this person looked fine on the outside. They had a great job, they had a family, they had friends. They weren’t off the rails in anyone’s eyes except those closest to them, like myself. Before I went through this with this person, I had no idea what alcoholism was. I joked about AA (alcoholics anonymous) and assumed that “alcoholic” meant a homeless creep with no respect for themselves or others. If they just stopped drinking then they would be better.
After a long and very painful few years, I realised how wrong I was and how much hurt I was causing this person (and myself) by believing those things. I would ask them why they didn’t just stop. I’d tell them to not buy wine on the way home from work. I’d yell at them and mock them while they were drunk because it hurt to see them that way and I thought they were doing it on purpose. Let me tell you that this person is the strongest person I know. They are stubborn and full of life and willpower. Yet they still "choose” to drink. How can this be? I had to change the way I saw them if I wanted to help them.
Eventually, this person was brave enough to go to AA and I went with them. It was the scariest thing they ever did. And boy did it open my eyes to a whole new world (cue singing from Aladdin…) and quickly change my perspective. There are people from all walks of life in that programme and it has radically changed the lives of so many involved. AA didn’t take away the fact that this person had an illness. Once they got the detox, which was scary in itself as withdrawal symptoms from alcohol addiction can be fatal, and went to AA they were able to build themselves back up with my (and others’) support. But they are still technically an “alcoholic”, although they despise the label because of the way those who don’t understand treat them. I know that a few of their friends have taken a big step back from them because of this label.
So I'll ask you again: what is your definition of mental illness?
Lots of love,
M
xx
Lots of love,
M
xx