Sometimes Stigma Sounds Like Our Own Voice

A few weeks ago, I had a few days when I just felt . . . off.

Nothing terrible had happened. I wasn't in crisis. But I was behind on a couple of projects at work, dealing with all of the beginning-of-the-school-year logistics that come with having kids, and my house was a complete mess. I also hadn't really been taking care of myself. I wasn't sleeping enough, I wasn't drinking enough water, and I hadn't been moving my body much. I just wasn't feeling like myself.

At one point, I had a thought: Maybe I should postpone that meeting. Maybe I could ask a friend to pick up the kids and give myself a little time to rest. And then I immediately shut that thought down.

Instead, I started thinking about all the reasons I shouldn't be having a hard time. My problems weren't that big. Other people had much bigger things going on. I had a lot to be grateful for, especially given the state of the world right now. I should be able to handle these little issues. I was being weak. I should just be able to power through.

And just like that, I went from noticing that I wasn't doing well to feeling guilty for not doing better. I've been thinking about that ever since. Because the wild thing is, I, unlike many people, have the privilege of being surrounded by colleagues, friends, and community members who would celebrate me for taking care of my mental health. No mental health stigma to be found there!

My point is - when we talk about stigma around mental illness, I think most of us picture the obvious – like a cruel joke about mental health, or using a diagnosis as an insult. Or maybe we picture someone who treats another person differently because they know they're struggling with their mental health.

But what I realized is that stigma doesn’t always come from some cruel or ignorant other person. Sometimes it’s us. We dismiss how we feel – saying, “It's not really a big deal.” or “What’s wrong with me?” or “I have no reason to feel this way.” We can get so used to thinking like this that we don't even recognize that we are perpetuating stigma. It wasn’t my colleagues’ or friends’ voices making me feel ashamed to ask for help a couple of weeks ago. It was mine.

The latest National Survey on Drug Use and Health found that among adults with a mental illness who felt they needed mental health treatment but didn't receive it, nearly three-quarters said they thought they should have been able to handle their mental health, emotions, or behavior on their own. This means that we aren’t just hesitating to get help for our mental health because we’re afraid of what others might think or say. Sometimes, we are hesitating to get help because of what we are thinking or saying to ourselves.

And I do get it – our internal voices are informed by the environments and cultures we were raised in, the experiences we’ve had navigating health systems, and relationships where someone really was cruel or dismissive or judgmental. But once we’ve noticed our internal voices reinforcing that stigma – what responsibility do we have to be kinder to ourselves?

We can notice that we're not doing well without immediately deciding that we're failing. We can take a break without having to prove to ourselves that we're exhausted enough to deserve one. We can ask for help before things get really bad. We can catch ourselves feeling guilty for having feelings in the first place.

This month, as we recognize Mental Illness Awareness Week, I'm trying to think about stigma a little differently. Reducing stigma isn't only about changing the way we talk about other people's mental health. It's also about noticing the way we talk to ourselves.

Please join me in remembering: We don't have to minimize what we're going through because someone else is going through something harder. It is possible to be grateful and to acknowledge that we’re struggling at the same time. We don't have to earn the right to take care of ourselves.

Because sometimes the person who needs to hear “You don't have to go through this alone” isn't someone sitting across from us. Sometimes it's us.