I know that, as a community of teenagers coming into their own, mental illness is going to be widely discussed. So, instead of rehashing my own journey with mental illness, I'd rather take a moment to discuss the stigma surrounding the mentally ill.
According to the Oxford Dictionary, a stigma is defined as: "A mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person." Stigmas can really be about anything — going to prison, being poor, being disabled, etc. — but perhaps the most prolific stigma, which hasn't made any strides in becoming a subject for common discourse, is mental illness. It's taboo. You can't mention it to your parents or your friends or your teachers or your family because you'll be viewed as incompetent, unstable, a liar. It's like saying "Voldemort" in Harry Potter; saying it will make it happen to you.
This history of stigma, although seemingly unfounded, is actually deeply ingrained in societal structure. In medieval times, those who were mentally ill were viewed as "possessed by the devil," subjected to exorcisms, and sometimes death. In America, before Dorothea Dix brought about prison reform in the nineteenth century, mentally ill persons were treated like criminals. They were chained to the wall, beaten, hardly fed anything, and trapped behind bars in the darkness. While this seems cruel, it was viewed as reasonable to those of that time. Those afflicted with "lunacy" or "hysteria" were dangerous, unpredictable, and, most importantly, not understood. And, as we all know, people have a lovely tendency to reject things they don't understand, instead of attempting to grasp them. In the 1880s, prefrontal, and later, transorbital lobotomies, became a common psychiatric practice all around the civilized world. It was the standard treatment for those suffering from schizophrenia, manic-depressive disorder (now dubbed bipolar disorder), and other "severe" mental illnesses until the middle of the 20th century. Those surviving the operations had almost all of their prefrontal cortex, known for being the part of the brain that deals with emotions, severed from the rest of their brain. After this procedure fell out of favor, the standard treatment became anti-psychotic drugs, which were gradually developed through the 1950s and 60s. Using drugs allowed those suffering from mental illnesses to function at a normal level in society without being permanently impaired by psychosurgery, and yet, the stigma didn't wane. Instead of mental illness becoming a common part of society, it became even more hush-hush, because, this time, you could sweep it under the rug. You could send your child off to a fancy asylum and have them back in a few months, good as new (more or less). That effect is still seen today, where those who are mentally ill are more likely to be passed over for jobs and housing, thus lowering the standard of living for most people who have a mental disorder.
Since it's so long-standing, the stigma against mental illness is strong, stronger than perhaps any one person can overcome. But if no one talks about it, nothing is going to change. You only have to look at major civil right's movements to see that in action. No one did anything about racial discrimination until the Civil Rights movement gained momentum in the 1960s. The fact that gay people actually existed wasn't an accepted fact until the Stonewall Riots. Women had no value in society until they stood up for themselves. Mentally ill people will never be seen as regular old people until we make that happen.
TLDR: we have to be vocal about what's happening to us. And no, I don't mean open every conversation with, "Hi, my name is Simon and I have anxiety, depression, and PTSD." You just need to be honest. If someone asks you about your mental state, tell them what's going on. If you need help, ask for it. If you're having a rough day, tell your teacher that your anxiety is bad and you need a little break. And, while that seems scary, it actually yields some beautiful results. On my Instagram, I speak out regularly about my eating disorder, depression/anxiety, and being trans (even though that's not really a mental illness, it still affects my mental health) and I've yielded some surprising results. People have told me, directly or indirectly, that I inspire them to be vocal about themselves, since I seem so brave doing it. It's scary as hell to bare your soul to people who can — and probably will — judge you. Even if you're paying for it (had trouble talking in therapy, anyone?) or if you've known the person for a long time. But, in the end, it's worth it. By creating a dialogue for mental illness, we are effectively bringing about a more accepting and open-minded world. A world that the next generation could actually ask for help if they needed it, instead of waiting until its too late.
Go out there and tell your story. The world is listening.
