Re-post: 5 Things You Shouldn't Say About Mental Illness

I wanted to re-post this piece that I wrote a little while ago because, in the wake of Robin Williams's death, many people on the internet have been openly expressing prejudice and hate against those with mental illnesses. This has been in somewhat subtle ways, such as posting articles that provide religious reasons why suicide is not OK, to blatant hatred toward Williams's daughter on Twitter.

I am very lucky, in that I have never considered suicide. I have always been able to get out of bed, and go to work, and complete necessary tasks, even in the worst days of anxiety and depression. Yet that's just LUCK. 

Below, I've written about 5 things you shouldn't say to/about people with mental illnesses. But beyond that, before you post or re-post something on Facebook or Twitter, before you say something to your friends at work, think to yourself: if the person reading this was in the darkest time of their life, if my colleague standing across from me has a mental illness, would my words show grace? Or would they increase the depth of despair that person is feeling? And if the answer is the second thing - DON'T share, DON'T speak. Please don't use the privilege of being mentally healthy to keep others down.

Here's the article:

I'm one of the 57 million Americans who will experience a mental health challenge this year. I know that I will, because I have a chronic anxiety disorder and have dealt with bouts of depression since I was a child. I've been treated for my anxiety with an anti-depressant for about 15 years. 

I'm telling you this because I'm one of the lucky ones. My company is understanding. My family is understanding. I am helped by a very small dose of medication with no side effects for me, and I have been more successful at life than I could ever have imagined when I was pulled over on the side of the road crying for no reason all those years ago. I feel a responsibility to declare the fact of my illness because so many people suffer silently, afraid that they won't be accepted or will lose their jobs. Many people with mental illness wait as long as 10 years before getting treatment - for reasons that include the stigma of being thought "crazy."

I once heard mental illness described as a "hidden disability," and I believe that all of us have to help to "un-hide" it. This means that we have to be careful with our words so that we are not perpetuating harmful stereotypes or casting out microaggressions  that subtly belittle others.

I want to name some of the things that I've heard people say that are hurtful to those of us who have mental illnesses, so that we can start to strike these kinds of statements from our speech, and create a world where people feel free from stigma if they take advantage of the treatment that's now made more available by the new insurance rules.

5 Things You Shouldn't Say to Someone With a Mental Illness

Why doesn't she just get treatment?
I've heard this said about people who are struggling in their work or lives because of mental illness, and it's often said with a great deal of judgment, and often said to others who have gotten treatment for their mental health challenges. First off - you don't know that this person isn't being treated. Finding the right treatment for mental illness can be difficult. Doctors often have to try several varieties before something works. And second - the illness itself can keep someone from getting treatment. For example, I have an anxiety disorder, which means that when untreated, I experience paralyzing anxiety about new situations. I couldn't overcome the anxiety of getting treatment until the need became greater than the fear. That took awhile. And finally, the stigma of being thought "crazy" can keep people from facing their illness. Or they may have their own stereotypes of mental illness, and not realize that they don't have to hear voices to be in need of help. It absolutely breaks my heart every time I hear of someone who is struggling but won't see someone; they need our love and understanding, not our judgment.

Have you tried ... (insert: yoga, meditation, therapy, getting a pet, etc.)? That always makes me feel better.
Mental illness is different than a lot of health problems, because the symptoms are often extreme versions of things everyone experiences. We all have anxiety sometimes - it was necessary to keep us alive in the evolutionary environment. But just because you've experienced anxiety, it doesn't mean that you can treat mine. For example, when I'm untreated, I have a crippling fear of talking on the phone. I have literally felt that I would die if I called a pizza place or a store to ask their hours. Even with treatment, I have been known to write out what I'm going to say on the phone. That's an extreme kind of anxiety, and it belittles my experience when you suggest that you know what will fix it.

Have you tried ... (insert those same things) instead of drugs?
Does anyone ever say to someone with the flu, "Have you tried meditation to get rid of that virus?" We don't (most of us, anyway) just say a prayer when someone is having a heart attack. We give the person aspirin and call 911. But for some reason, we think it's OK to suggest to people with mental illnesses that they shouldn't need medication. It's seen as a sign of weakness. 

Most people dealing with mental illness are incredibly strong people. They are going through terrible suffering, and still managing to live their lives, take care of their children, do their jobs. Why would we then suggest they should not have something that will improve their suffering?

You have to just face your fears.
As I mentioned, my fears are completely irrational. For example, I have very little anxiety about: spiders, public speaking, snakes, the dark, and most other things that are considered rational fears. But those things that make me anxious provoke a strongly physical reaction, almost a paralysis. I literally could not face my fears because I couldn't move. I've had students with selective mutism (a kind of anxiety disorder) who wouldn't speak in class, and who were harassed by teachers (even special ed teachers) and other students, urging them to talk. These kids can't just face their fears and start talking. 

There is a point where you can be helped by exposure to things that scare you, but it's usually not something that can just be done through force of will. 

You're just sensitive/special/extra caring/sad/nervous, etc.
Being depressed is not like being sad. Having an anxiety disorder is not like being nervous. Both have physical symptoms (like joint pain, lethargy, sleeplessness or over-sleeping...). This isn't something that's all in your mind. It's all over your body. And even when symptoms are primarily mental, this doesn't mean that someone is just being dramatic or overly-emotional. Depression can be triggered by things that are supposed to make you sad, like the death of a loved one or pet. Doctors can diagnose when someone is having emotional reactions that are proportional to events, and those that aren't.

These are just a few of the things people say that bug me. I hope that by having some open conversation, we can begin to de-stigmatize living with mental illness and come to accept it as we would any other health challenge.

I'm sorry... was I standing in the way of your privilege?

The other day I was at Spec's, which is this giant liquor store we have in Texas. It's more than just a liquor store - it's your one-stop-shop for entertaining. Do you need (for some reason) Kahlua, a single-malt scotch of the finest quality, a prickly pear, a frozen pizza, and a roasted duck? And you want to pay discount prices? Then Spec's is the place. (Seriously. It's a miracle.)

As you can imagine, such a fantastical magic land is usually packed, particularly on the weekends. On this Friday afternoon in question, several folks, including myself, were patiently waiting at the check out. It's one of those places where they have one line that feeds into all of the check out stands. As we were waiting, a man walked up to one of the customer service employees (they have lots of knowledgeable folks to assist you in picking out whatever you need; they are real experts. Did I mention that this place is amazing?).

The man had a bottle of champagne in his hand.

"Is there a way I can just pay for this one bottle?" he asked.

Meaning, without standing in line like all of these people.

This stuck out to me because not too long ago read an article about such a situation at the post office, discussing how in these situations White men are acting on their White male privilege without even thinking about it. In that article, though, the man who tried to cut to the front of the line at the post office was denied and sent to his rightful place in line.

At the liquor store, however, the employee tried to put off the man for a moment, but the man continued to press, and so he was ushered to another check out that had just opened, passing by the women and people of color who had been waiting in line (there were no other White men in line). None of us said anything.

In a nutshell, this is White male privilege at work.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, you might be thinking. You are reading way too much into this situation. After all, the guy was probably busy. Maybe he was late for something.

Sure, of course. Maybe we were all busy and late for something, but we waited in line.

Let's play out the situation if it was a little different. What if I, a White woman, had been the one asking. After all, I only had five things in my basket, and several people in front of me were buying cases of liquor.

First off, women are socialized not to ask for favors that inconvenience others - so it's pretty unlikely that I would do so. In fact, if there was some urgent, urgent reason I couldn't wait (I don't know, like an alien invasion?) I think it's more likely that I would actually leave the store without buying something than actually believe I should go to the front of the line. 

But I do know what happened one time recently when I was the airport, in the security line, and I heard the announcement that my flight was boarding. I was nearly at the front of the line, and I asked the woman in front of me if I could bypass her, as my flight was boarding. I received a hate-filled look from another woman. She did let me go ahead in line (after all, women are also socialized to say yes, even when it inconveniences us), but when it turned out we were on the same flight, she gave me the bitch, you are out of line look - the one that women use to regulate other women who aren't following norms. To this day, I still feel sort of guilty that I even asked for this favor.

That's your problem, you might be thinking.

Of course, I can't know what it feels like to be a person of color, and so I don't want to speak to as if I could. But I will say, I think most of us know that if the man at the liquor store had been Black, it's a lot less likely that he would have gotten his own lane opened for him. That doesn't mean that Black men don't have male privilege, but intersectionality makes it complicated.

It seems like when it comes to privilege, a lot of the "advice" out there is for those who don't have privilege to be more like the dominant culture. For women, it's about how they can be more like dudes. Men are successful because they're confident, says The Atlantic.  Women can learn to take more risks and be more confident. "Lean in" and ask for more, says Sheryl Sandberg. And when it comes to White privilege, many seem to believe that the answer is in teaching children of color in "successful schools" to be facsimiles of some weird version of WASP life, wearing polo shirts with khakis and sitting up perfectly straight with their hands folded and unmoving.

Well, what if the answer isn't leaning in? What if we need to look in the mirror, and when our privilege is hurting others, try to lean out a little bit? Not just teaching girls to take risks but also teaching boys to be more nurturing and considerate of others? Teaching White children about their privilege and at the same time affirming the value of cultures other than European, making schools places where success doesn't mean "White and male."

 To do that, we need to change the big systems of society of course. My whole career is dedicated to that. But I also believe that when it comes to ending oppression we have to sweat the small stuff, the moments in line at the store, the tiny words we use that put people down, the eye rolls that tell others they aren't doing life right. We're definitely going to get it wrong a lot of the time, miss opportunities, make mistakes. I do it all the time when it comes to my own privilege. But when we're not even willing to consider that our small actions actually do have weight to those with whom we have to stand in those lines, then all the governmental change or policy papers in the world won't make a difference.