#wmhday

It's OK to feel shit, but it really sucks. 

Ask them how they feel. Give them a hug.

I send positive, supportive vibes to my friends and family who have battled with mental health. Whether it lasts a day or months, it's all around us. Thankfully I'm noticing a much more open discussion about it, let's keep opening up and facing it together. 

World Mental Health Day! Share your positive mental health messages & support your co-worker at workplace.

Its #WMHDay and #PsychFirstAid is trending. I’ve written various iterations of this blog over the years, all dispatched to the trash bin of embarrassment and shame. I’m changing that habit today, prompted by some fucking excellent points made on Twitter just now by Charlotte Cooper (@thebeefer). I’ve referenced my MH sporadically in the past online, knowing that people invested in these discussions will understand me – even if its in the most cursory way. But mostly, I’ve avoided spelling things out. I’ve been silent on this front for the usual, crippling reasons that most people are: I’m scared of being stigmatized. I’m scared of being misunderstood and judged and pathologized; I’m scared of appearing weak, or self-involved. But mostly, excruciatingly, I’m scared I’ll lose work – that my colleagues and commissioning editors (established and prospective) will quietly dismiss me as unreliable or incapable. I know for a fact that I am not alone in this – that a number of well-respected colleagues in my (predominantly middle/upper class) field struggle with the same issues. As poor, queer, working-class woman with very few safety nets, this knowledge offers me small comfort. When you find yourself standing in the local pharmacy, having to choose between prescriptions because you can’t afford anti-depressants and an inhaler this month, these aren’t just fears – they are necessary, practical and every-day considerations. I’m speaking to these fears now, publicly, because not speaking to them, not living authentically around my MH in the way I do with everything else online – my queerness, my class identity, my feminism – no longer serves me. It also does a disservice to every other oppressed person struggling with MH, because the more open we all are about this stuff – especially those of us who are perceived as high-functioning and/or in positions of relative power – the less stigma there’ll be. (No shade to anyone who has more to risk and chooses to remain closeted, obvs. More power to you.) Also, at this point, anxiety conditions among my peers feel so standard that I’m actually surprised when I meet people who don’t suffer.

I have a lot going for me: I’m cis, white, able-bodied, first language English, reasonably educated, co-habiting with a love who is in full-time work, and, when my survival calls for it, I can pass as middle class. I also have depression, anxiety, trauma and disordered eating – things I’ve struggled with since childhood. These things affect every sphere of my life, every day. They’re a reality I no longer want to hide from my wider circle of friends and colleagues.

The pressure there is on othered, atypical and neurodivergant peeps to find an intrinsic value to our weirdness in order to justify our existence is bullshit. I’m not about to feed that pressure. It does, however, feel brave and honest and crucial to honour the role that being a-typical plays in my politics – namely, a central one. It’s allowed me to develop a deep compassion and empathy over the years, to foster various solidarities where differences might divide, and to understand how my privilege(s) – even against the backdrop of woeful MH care in the UK – serves me when I navigate the NHS. Hugs, encouragement, consistent consideration and managing any personal embarrassment you might have around my MH are all welcome. But if you’d like to support me, and everyone else struggling with poor MH, in a bigger, systematic way – fight capitalism. Fight white, patriarchal rule, which erodes our well-being on a daily basis. As Charlotte says: fight war, shitty policy and inequality – all major causes of mental health crises around the globe. And pressure your governments for well-funded, compassionate, safe and effective emergency mental health care on this #WMHDay. You know shit is dire in the UK when even the police (ACAB) are threatening to sue the gov over this issue.  p.s here’s a photo of my anti-depressants. I keep them in a Polly Pocket compact, on my desk, because a spoonful-of-sugar and all that. I normally hide them when we have friends and family over. Not gonna do that anymore, nope.  

It all started about two years ago. I couldn’t go anywhere without having anxiety and at least a panic attack and I thought I was becoming crazy.

I hated panic attacks, they were just coming and going without any particular reason. I didn’t know what to do and my life was pretty much a mess. I was afraid to tell people because I couldn’t understand the situation myself and I was thinking that if I told any of my friends they would have thought I was crazy and leave me. I was scared to even told my parents.

Eventually I spoke to my best friend who was really supportive and made me realize that maybe speaking to my parents wasn’t such a bad thing.

If you are in the same situation PLEASE talk to someone. I needed to hit the bottom before realizing it was okay to ask for help. I know it’s difficult and you are afraid of the reaction you may have but it will be okay, I promise.