Many, if not all,
of us have experienced some sort of stigma at a point in our lives. Before getting into the stigma I have faced
let me say that I know exactly how privileged I am. All in all, I’ve had a pretty good life. That being said I am going to talk about my
experience with stigma as it pertains to mental health issues.
What is
stigma? For those that don’t have a good
idea about what stigma actually is, it is a negative stereotype. It often trivializes those that it
stereotypes, belittling them. It also
usually offends them, and patronizes them.
If it does any of those things, chances are it is an example of
stigma. I would say that stigma comes
from assumptions. When we make
assumptions we run the risk of stigmatizing people.
Growing up there
was nothing specific I can remember being said against those with mental health
issues. There was certainly something in
the air in general though. The media is
steeped with stereotypes against those that suffer with mental health
issues. Perhaps that is where I learned
that there was something wrong with something being wrong. At any rate, I learned two things: getting
help is not something a man does, and medication is only for when there is
something you can’t fix on your own.
As my life
progressed and I needed help I didn’t even know how to ask for it. It was offered, but I couldn’t accept it. When I was in the hospital for the first time
my own assumptions about what those with mental health issues crept into the
open and didn’t allow me to get the help I desperately needed. I thought to myself “these people are crazy,
I don’t belong here, I’m normal.” After
getting out of the hospital I was given tremendously bad advice by those who
didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand, or had a skewed perspective on
what was going on with me.
I think they were
honestly trying to help, but were of a generation that had less of a grasp on
mental health than I did. I think the
biggest issue was everyone simply not talking about what was going on. There was something wrong with me; others
claimed it was just weakness. There was
shame, shame in disappointing others, shame in not being able to look others in
the eye with confidence. I remember
feeling so broken.
I didn’t know how
to talk about what was going on with me.
This caused me to run. I tried to
run as far and as fast from everyone I knew, and when my issues flared up my
first instinct was to run. This caused
many failed relationships. Not just
romantic, but friendships and familial relationships were ruined. I was so afraid of being judged harshly and
part of me felt it wasn’t their business.
I could handle my own affairs solely.
This always ultimately led to isolation.
If I was alone, I couldn’t be judged.
That seemed like the best course of action.
It wasn’t until I
entered the work force that I fully understood what type of discrimination I
could face for having bipolar and being hospitalized. I remember the shame I felt immediately after
my latest (and hopefully last) suicide attempt.
There was nothing but shame in my eyes.
I feared that I would lose my job.
I learned shortly thereafter that another employee was demoted for being
on antidepressants that were supposedly causing her to make mistakes. I worked in retail, which in and of itself is
not forgiving of any missed time, and every time I needed to call off I was so
afraid I was going to lose my job that I desperately needed.
I was ashamed and
told white lies to coworkers so that they would not know what had happened regarding
my hospitalization and my continued instability. I was afraid that they would treat me
differently. I was afraid of the
discrimination I would face.
One particular instance I remember was
talking with my therapist about doing work that I found fulfilling, and I had
said that when I worked the customer service desk I felt more as though I were
doing something that mattered because I made people happy. My therapist had suggested that I get a note
from my psychiatrist stating that I could only work the desk. When I turned it in I was met with
overwhelming opposition. The request was
seen as unreasonable in that it was more stressful and harder work therefore it
made no sense that I should have such a request.
I was so careful
about what I said to anyone about why I was only behind the desk and of course
made it a point to hide anything going on with me. I couldn’t always hide, of course.
Eventually a local relocation forced me to
leave that particular store and part of me really wonders if the reason I had
such a hard time finding work (I didn’t), while I was still in the state, had
to do with receiving a negative review by my previous place of employment. For some reason I was even denied a transfer
to a local store that was within walking distance.
It was not until
recently that I have fully embraced what is going on and realizing that there
is discrimination against those with mental health issues and that the only way
for that to end is for people to stand up and publicly state what is going on
with them. That being said, I am trying
very hard to correct people when they make a discriminatory statement and be
more open about my own issues.
So, how about
you? What are your experiences with
stigma? Have any stories or anecdotes
about discrimination? Share them in the
comments below if you feel comfortable.
Let’s get a dialog going on this, shall we?
--JJM
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