The Unhealthy State of Mental Health

First and foremost, my heart goes out to all those impacted by the recent tragedy at Virginia Tech. I can't begin to imagine the sorrow and the grief of the families, friends and communities of the students who lost their lives, were injured or were on the campus that day. My sincerest wish is that we never see something like that happen again. The "why?" questions abound and I know there are more of them than answers.

Some people will make this tragedy about gun control. After all, we're in election season (yes, a full 18 months before the actual elections). No better time to start talking (finally) about the issue. But this post is not about gun control or 2nd amendment rights, it's about a much larger, more pervasive issue in this country. It's about mental health.

I know at least half a dozen people close to me who struggle with some form of mental health "disorder" (more in a minute about why that's in quotes). They're bi-polar or have depression, anxiety, chronic stress or ADHD. Amongst them are both men and women of varying ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, races, religions, etc. There's nothing common about them, no way to categorize them into a group "likely" to be impacted by such a thing. Beyond the people I do know who struggle with these, I'm sure there are many, many more people I know (live near? work with? am related to?) who have similar struggles that I know nothing about. Why? As a friend, neighbor, family member, co-worker, etc., why would someone not want to tell me, to share, to ask for help? It's because there's such a stigma. Telling someone you need help makes you weak.

Just think about the words themselves... "mental" is slang for "crazy," right? I had to break up with that girl, she was mental! And disorder, well, it means something is wrong with you. But if you break your arm, I don't say you have an arm disorder. If you get strep throat, I don't say you have a throat disorder. If your heart isn't beating properly, I don't say you're weak. I say you're injured or you're sick, and I encourage you to go to a doctor. Anyone would. So when there's something "off" in your brain, why is that a "disorder?"

I said before there was nothing common about the people I know who struggle with these "disorders." But that's not entirely true, there is one thing. Each and every one of them has expressed the same feelings: I didn't want something to be wrong with me, I was ashamed/embarrassed to tell anyone, it was hard for me to finally ask for help. Why? When your arm is broken, I'm guessing it's not so hard to let people in on that. Why should this be any different?

Some might say that mental health "disorders" are "all in your head." OK, so physically, the chemical imbalance (or whatever it is) might physically be located within your skull. And I admit I tend to stress myself out over the small stuff, and that is in my head. But when we're talking about a true "disorder," that's not something you make up or talk yourself into.

I think this country has a "drug" mentality. Got a sore throat? Antibiotic. Stiff neck? Muscle relaxer, maybe some pain pills. Depression? Prozac. I'm not opposed to medication when it makes sense and I believe that in many cases, it's a good way to even out the imbalances that cause anxiety, depression, etc. But I think we (as a society) need to realize that medication only treats the symptoms, it doesn't treat the problem. If you have stresses or situations that trigger your depression, you need to work to avoid those situations, maybe get some help on how to work through them or view them differently. If talking to your crazy aunt gives you an anxiety attack, then stop talking to her. We need to find ways to change our routines, our patterns, eliminate (or at least reduce) the triggers. Balance the situation so that you can balance yourself. Again, this is not to say that medication isn't sometimes required long term, or that you can "think your way out of depression." And it's a lot easier to get a prescription from a doctor, presumably a "stranger," who you know is obligated not to tell anyone he saw you in the first place, than it is to fess up to someone you know, someone who might "judge" you and remember it years later that you were "weak" and couldn't handle life on your own. Children should have their parents, teachers, other "grown-ups," etc. But who do the grown-ups have?

If more of us had access to counseling (formal or informal), if more of us felt comfortable talking about this, being honest about this, learning to say "no" when our plate was too full and one more "yes" would spiral us out of control, feeling comfortable telling people that we might need a little understanding... then maybe we wouldn't need so much medication. Maybe we wouldn't feel so alone, maybe we wouldn't get to the point of tears or panic or, God forbid, shooting up classrooms.

Maybe if asking for help was easier, maybe if people were less judgemental, maybe if the stigma was reduced, just maybe that kid with the gun in the classroom would have talked to someone, would have realized he wasn't alone and would have been able to make his own life better instead of ruining so many others.