Deadly Stigma

Growing up I had a couple teacher brave enough to try to get me the help I needed for my obvious depression and anxiety. If I had been failing or had been disruptive in class they would have had "reason" and backing of administration but I was a "good" kid. But I was so obviously hurting that these people reached out and tried to get my resistant and often angry mother to see I needed help. All she could see was the stigma. I don't blame her. That was all most other people can see most of the time. In her own way, she was trying to protect me. It almost killed me. In the end her fear of the stigma of mental illness killed her.

The stigma of mental illness is so strong people who care about me will sometime try to separate me from it. "We all have depression sometimes" they will say. Or "Depression is different" meaning different from those other mental illnesses...those 'crazy' ones, like bipolar or schizophrenia. Let me tell you, people, it isn't different. The stigma of mental illness effects us all. The stigma that is applied to a person with schizophrenia will apply to a person with depression. It will interfere with both getting the medical help and social support they need. The stigma of mental illness and the stigma of persuing help for mental illness kills people. It destroys lives. It is the stigma that makes it okay for insurance comanies to under-insure thier mental health policies. It is the stigma that makes it okay to ignore funding for community mental health services. It is the stigma that prevents more funding going toward researching the causes and early intervention of mental illness. 

I have chronic, debilitating depression and generalized anxiety disorder. I was like this as early as I can remember. I thought about suicide and death before I hit puberty. I didn't start getting any kind of treatment until I was 19 years old and I didn't get comprehensive mental health treatment until I was 25 years old. It is a combination of loving friends, pure luck and hanging by my fingernails force of will that I survived long enough to get the help I needed. I survived and continue to survive the stigma of mental illness.

So what is my point... Stop the stigma. Stop the stigma of mental illness in conversation. Talk about mental illness without shame. Stop the stigma in your own thoughts. Think about mental illness, see it as it is, as of our greatest global health challenges. Stop the stigma because, in my opinion, it isn't the mental illness that kills us. The stigma kills. 

Those left behind.

When you lose some one to suicide the news of another suicide, if you know the person or not, brings up the emotions of the original loss. (Background: My mom committed suicide in December 2005.)

Sadly, it has happened twice since she died. The first time was a year after her death. We were regulars at a family owned and run coffeehouse in our neighborhood. They shut down for a week and we found out then that one of their adult sons had committed suicide. I had never met this man but it doesn't matter. Suicide is always a tragedy, whether you know the person or not. A couple weeks later I overheard another son, who worked regularly at the coffeehouse, telling the story of his brother's death to a friend of the family while sitting in the cafe. I started to cry thinking of the pain my brother and I went through with our mom's death and knowing that this family was going through the same thing.

It has happened again and I am feeling the same heartache. This time the person is on the other side of the world. I never met him or even ever replied to anything he said on social media but I followed one of his twitter accounts because he was funny, snarky and a part of the Nine Inch Nails fan community. He attempted suicide a couple months back and tweeted his goodbyes before doing it. It triggered a world-wide response from his NIN fan friends, some of whom knew local family that could act. He was found and saved. He seemed to be getting better. The word has gone out in the community that he succeeded in killing himself two days ago. Watching the community respond with confusion, sadness and anger is like watching my thoughts from my mom's death scroll by on Twitter.

You never really heal from a friend or a family member committing suicide. It is always a part of you. My heart aches for this man's children, his family, his friends and the whole close-knit NIN community. We are all scarred when some one commits suicide.

If you have stumbled on this post and are in a dark place please get help. Go here: www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). It is free and always available. If not for yourself then for the people who love you and, trust me, some one loves you. There is hope on the other side of depression. I've been there, I got help, I found a way out of the darkness. You can too.

If you lost some one to suicide and want to talk to people who understand I suggest here: www.afsp.org. It continues to help me deal with the issues that come up about my mother's suicide. You never really get over it but you can learn to make peace with being one of those left behind in the aftermath of suicide.