“Oh my gosh, really? I’ve never met anyone with depression before!”
“I guarantee you; you have.”
– A conversation I had with a colleague during our brief moment of peace before the children came rushing back in from the playground.
This woman, a working professional in a big city, truly believed she had never met someone with a mental health issue before. This was the first time she’d experienced a person freely discussing their mental health, and she was fascinated. She asked me loads of questions, but only after I assured her that she could, and that I was more than happy to answer them. She wanted to know how long I have been dealing with it, why and how it first happened, what I did to deal with it, did I take medication, what was that like? Not for one second did she speak to me any differently than a minute before, when we were discussing whether to read the kids ‘Funny Bones’ or ‘Paddington Bear’ before lunch. She simply had no idea that this was a part of my life.
“But you’re so cheery and energetic!”
“Yes,” I replied, “Depression doesn’t always mean you’re curled up in a ball or crying your eyes out. For a lot of people, especially if they get some treatment or therapy, it just becomes something you live with. I’m still me.”
And with that, the bell rang, the kids erupted back into the room, and the day continued as normal.
“Actually… I’ve thought about getting therapy too”
– A spontaneous ‘confession’ from a new friend. A group of us had been to the pub to get to know each other, seeing as we were going to be living together. At some point in the evening, I’d given my “just so you know, I live with depression, so sometimes I’ll have off-days, or off-weeks, so don’t take it personally if I’m not social sometimes” speech, which was well-received by the table (“Oh, okay!”). As more drinks were poured and drank, I volunteered more information about myself, such as my medication working really well for me these days and having a great therapist that I spoke to on Tuesday afternoons. After a couple minutes more chat, Heather, the quietest person in the room, came out with her admission of considering therapy. She said nothing else, but looked at me, holding my gaze. “I’d recommend it, I feel like everyone can benefit from therapy, you don’t need a diagnosis to find talking helpful!” She nodded gently and turned back to her cider, and everyone carried on playing cards, barely noticing this moment of connection between two strangers, who would soon become friends.
I could go on for pages about the conversations I’ve had with people about mental health, about those tiny moments where someone’s world view inched a little further open, about making meaningful and honest connections that say to people ‘yes I’m talking about mental health, is there a reason I shouldn’t be?’
It’s really amazing that one person can spark a whole train of thought, a change of understanding, a change of attitude, with nothing more than saying I’m not ashamed of my mental health. It doesn’t take divulging your life story, or listing the medication you have or haven’t tried, or giving them the notes from your therapy sessions. Simple acknowledgement of something is powerful. Think of how formidable the opposite can be: denial. The silent treatment, ghosting, being completely overlooked – these things make us feel small, angry, and ashamed. So why do we keep doing it to parts of ourselves?
Our mental health is a part of us, and the more we hide it, the more we teach ourselves that we should be ashamed of it. The more we hide it, the more we teach others that it’s something to be ashamed of. So, acknowledge it. It doesn’t have to be a big gesture. Just a nod and a smile.
