Stigma is visible and painful

I wake up Friday morning and my head hurts, a reminder that I am still recovering from a mild concussion. I get ready for work but feel groggy, I look in the mirror and appreciate the tie/shirt/suit combination with the matching socks (my trademark). I am freshly shaven, carefully combed and another glance in the mirror confirms that external appearances are deceiving.

I drive the kids to school, navigate my way through the traffic, walk into the office and greet everyone with a smiling “good morning”. As I pass a number of people, I respond to their questions.  How are you feeling? “Fine”, I say (Liar!). How is your head today? “Better that yesterday”, I say (Liar!). I duck into my office. After the drive and multiple conversations, I am feeling dizzy and tired. I duck into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Still looking good. I straighten my tie, splash water on my face and head back to the real world… the one outside my head. The one that is so much less comfortable and has so many people asking questions, when all I really feel like doing is crawling back into bed and sleeping.

But I can't do that. That would be a sign of weakness.

I learned at a Mental Health Symposium that our perception of personal weakness is a classic symptom associated with stigma. I learned that the stigma surrounding any mental health issue is still very much alive today and the fear of being judged and seen as vulnerable and weak, forces most people to suffer in silence. The compassion that you require from family and friends can only be achieved if you disclose how you feel and trust that others will understand you.

Back to the bathroom. I take one last look in the mirror before I open the bathroom door.

This time the reflection in the mirror has changed. I no longer see the coordinated suit and tie or well groomed look. I now see glazed eyes, a tired brain and a growing desire to not pretend anymore.

I head back to my office, shut the lights but keep the door open. I close my computer and grab some papers. I sit in a chair which I rarely sit in. Then I wait, hoping for someone to ask me how I feel or better yet notice that I am not feeling well. That would make it so much easier and would remove the burden of having to overcome the fear of the stigma and the overwhelming weight of being honest about how I am feeling.

People judge and question your honesty and integrity and this represents a debilitating aspect to the suffering.

I hear footsteps, I see a face peer into my office, my heart races and then I hear those magical words, “You don’t look well”. “No, I'm not” I respond, with relief. Normally, we don’t appreciate when someone tells us that we don’t look good but under the circumstances it felt great. “You should go home” I hear. “I’m okay” I reply (Liar!). I walk to and from the cafeteria to get a cup of tea and upon my return I realize that I told 4 more lies about my state of health. Fast forward to 5pm. and yes, I am still at the office. Why? I have no idea.

It must give a good impression when people walk by and see me working, or so I think. What I have actually come to realize is that people walk by and wonder why I am not taking better care of myself. I am actually sending an opposite message to the one I intend. I am modeling poor behaviour by pushing the limits and not caring for myself. I am quietly telling people that when they do not feel well, they too should ignore their symptoms and come to work. If I can work with a concussion, everyone should be able to work with anxiety, stress, depression, or whatever they are suffering from.

That message needs to change, because I believe and preach the exact opposite.

I want people to take care of their health, every aspect of it. I want people to take time off in order to achieve better balance in their lives and I want people to be honest about what they are feeling and what they are going through because I want to be in a position to support them.

I look in the mirror again, but this time I don't need a mirror. This time I am self-reflecting and soul searching and deciding how I want to change. How I want to be a better person. It starts with being honest, being vulnerable, being human and speaking up.

As I write this, it is actually Thursday and my story has not taken place... but it will. If not in real life, it will play out in my mind. You see, projecting, predicting and anticipating the worst is one of the toughest aspects to deal with. Before things happen, I worry about the fallout. Before someone comforts, I anticipate a put down.  Before life happens, I have already determined my fate.

The brain is a fascinating complex organ and a precious one. Take care of yours and take care of those around you.

Through understanding, empathy, support, encouragement, listening and love we can all get through whatever life throws at us. In the end, we all just want to feel like the best version of ourselves.

We should all be advocates for mental health, whether we have been personally touched by mental illness or not. Society needs to accept that it is something that happens to a person and not because of something that a person does. The process may take some time before everyone has an open mind and is accepting of this type of health issue but the wait will be worth it.

There is tremendous power in sharing our stories. Your story is most likely being silently lived by thousands of people and your voice can help others, if you find the courage to share.

This is my story. What is yours?