Selective Stigma. Just Stop.

One thing having a broken ankle has shown me is that people aren’t afraid to ask me how my ankle is. I’m sure my stock answer of ‘still broken’ is wearing thin but it amuses me.

What is striking to me is that the same people, at least those who know about it, don’t ask me about my mental health issues. And that isn’t necessarily something that I want people to always ask me about. I know I would struggle to have to answer that if people always asked.

However, a conversation last week with a good friend left thoughts about this lingering in my mind. My friend confided that she felt guilty for talking to friends about her depression or anxieties, that she was burdening them. I’m sure we’ve all felt that. I’m sure we’ve all felt judged when confiding in someone. I’m sure we’ve all been told to just pull ourselves together at some point.

Isn’t it interesting how society draws such differences between a physical and a mental health issue, problem, challenge?

I tried, inarticulately in the moment, to tell my friend that when I walk (hobble) into a room at the moment, there is no way my physical affliction can be avoided. I may want to do something, I may have every intention of doing something, but I just can’t. Example, I am registered for a 10km race at the end of the month, but clearly I can’t do it. And because people can see it, they can understand it.

So why would we treat mental health issues differently? Isn’t it true that some days it will stop us from getting out of bed? Isn’t it true that it will sometimes cause us to seize up in a conversation? Isn’t it true it will sometimes make us anxious to leave the house?

I don’t know the answer. All we can do is remind ourselves that mental health issues are real and impact us just the same as physical issues do. And we can keep talking, educating, listening and learning. And then maybe we can remove guilt as an obstacle to accessing support and care that we all need.