Let's Talk About Mental Health
People love to talk about destigmatizing mental illness. That is, the more common mental illnesses. The ones that tiktok famous girls and chronically online twitter bros have glorified and deemed acceptable. Destigmatizing anxiety and depression is important, but it shouldn’t stop there.
In my experience, mental illness isn’t always pretty. This summer, I saw multiple people make threads about what symptoms were alright and which didn’t pass the vibe check. Essentially, they illustrate the fact that our society still only values people whose mental illnesses can be hidden, wrapped up in a bow and made into a happy story, or don’t appear to harbor any signs of darkness within. I have numerous mental illnesses, and they aren’t very cute. My symptoms don’t pass the test, and sometimes I don’t like who I am or how I act. I have friends and family members with still stigmatized mental health problems, and all of us remain deserving of love and support. You are deserving of love and support.
My first memory of therapy involves chicken nuggets. I was 13 and cleaning a pan used to make nuggets when I told my parents I needed to see a therapist. Later, I sent them an email with a list of counselors in our area that fit with our insurance. Over the years since then, I have tried most types of individual and group therapies and completed both in-patient and partial hospitalization programs. I have met people with diagnoses from all over the map, and I have seen the way the healthcare system and society seems to simply see people as their diagnosis. Without a holistic view, they fail to see our strengths.
I could write an entire essay about in-patient and its connections to incarceration: the way we institutionalize people, force them to endure more trauma, medicate them when they’re “too difficult” to manage, and often fail to provide the services they truly need. My stay at an in–patient hospital taught me many things. People – even nurses and doctors – are afraid of the mentally ill. The patients I met there are some of the kindest, most compassionate individuals who have ever entered my life. I saw a lot of fucked up shit. But I also was taught how to play chess and euchre, how to finesse a second blanket, and the best way to color when your wrist hurts.
When I came back from in-patient, no one mentioned my stay; it was as if it didn’t happen. I understand why, but it did feel like people were walking on eggshells around me. In general, we are not taught how to talk about mental health. I was born and raised in a suburb of Portland, Oregon, and I have been amazed by the differences in discussing mental health between the Pacific Northwest and the Midwest. In the Northwest, my middle and high school health classes covered mental, emotional, physical, social, and environmental health. I’ve compared my curriculum with my friends’ experiences, and I’ve discovered that we learned vastly different things. I am lucky.
When I started school at UofM, I didn’t know a single person who had a therapist. I talked openly about mine and was met with weird glances, changes of subject, and confusion. I eventually found my current group of friends, and throughout my four years here, most of them have sought out therapists for help and support. This makes me proud and also makes us very privileged.
Even still, I’ve realized that most people do not know how to talk about mental health. My best friends in Oregon and I talk about our mental well being daily and often call each other in crisis. I am incredibly grateful to have them. Here, I am scared to show my friends what it looks like when I am not okay, even if they offer their support. It is less acceptable, less understood, and less normalized. Someone once said that in the Midwest it seems like you must answer the question “how are you” with “I’m fine” – no matter your true feelings. Some days I hide in my room, deny my friends’ offers to call, or make regretful choices because I’m too afraid to ask for help.
I don’t want to dunk on the Midwest; I do love it here and I want to recognize that both Oregon and Michigan have room for growth. Recently, I participated in a suicide prevention training from CAPS. It truly was a valuable workshop, yet I was surprised by the participants’ questions about how to ask your friends if they’re suicidal. This is something my friends and I do regularly. The program raises visibility of suicides on campuses, citing statistics such as suicide being the second leading cause of death for college-age students. It also provides a basic format for helping: QPR.
● Question – I use a simple “are you feeling safe,” but asking “are you suicidal” also works.
● Persuade your friend to get help.
● Refer to resources (QPR),
QPR presents one option of getting the conversation started. I often find myself thinking that people don’t care if they don’t reach out or don’t try to help, but I have to remind myself that that is just my ill brain talking. The people I’ve met here in the Midwest are kind, and they care very deeply – especially my friends. However, many don’t know what to ask, how to help, or the best way to talk about a mental health crisis. I think many people are afraid because of the myth that if you talk about suicide it will perpetuate it. As Mayo Clinic points out, asking about suicidal ideation actually increases the chance that someone will seek treatment. Conversations around mental health are important reminders that you are not alone. I am aware that my wellbeing isn’t the responsibility of anyone else but myself; however, it does help to know that there are friends in my corner.
Some easy things to do for a friend who is struggling:
● Remind them that you’re there for them.
● Tell them they are loved, not alone, and important.
● Listen to what they’re going through.
● Offer to help them find solutions (ask for consent before beginning to problem solve, because some people might just want to vent).
● Sit with them when they’re having a hard time.
● Refer them to resources.
○ (CAPS, Wolverine Wellness, UHS, OSCR, SAPAC, Spectrum Center) ● Help them set up appointments and follow up. Ask how their appointments went. ● Make time to be present, and show them that you want to spend time with them. ● Chat, color together, meet up for coffee and tea. Your presence is important. ● Understand that making decisions may be challenging for someone who is struggling. Try suggesting two options (Comet Coffee or Roos Roast) to make the decision less daunting. ● Help them complete the little things that seem unmanageable.
● Cultivate safe and inclusive environments.
● Remember when you’re caring for someone else to care for yourself first.
These tips can start the conversation about de-stigmatization. Understand that mental health care and suicide prevention are more than just being there for your friend. Some issues are more complex, including access to health care, housing, food, work, and safety. But sometimes having someone help you navigate a messed up system, whether it’s having a friend help you file for unemployment, or a pal go with you to the doctors, can make a difference. Here are some resources that may help:
- Comprehensive list of University and Community Resources
- Maize and Blue Food Cupboard
- Student Emergency Funds
- Safehouse
- Students with Children
Resources are a start, but they can only do so much. Change happens through conversation, education, action, and community. Together, we can create a better world. As I’ve spent the last few months dealing with my own mental health issues, I’ve found myself forgetting a few important things so I wanted to leave you with this: healing is messy and nonlinear. There are good things in the world, and you are not alone.