Tag Archives: mental illness

My 1st letter to the editor!

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Today, I did something that I’ve never done before… After reading a newspaper article, I wrote a scathing letter to the editor!
Disclaimer: Although I did write the letter, it wasn’t actually scathing, nor even that harsh. (Sorry, I’m Canadian.)

One of the things bouncing all over my social media today during Bell Let’s Talk Day was an opinion piece published in the Globe and Mail on Jan 28th, “People with mental illness don’t need more talk” by Philip Moscovitch.

I don’t know Mr. Moscovitch personally, but after stalking browsing his online profiles, I see that we have a lot in common. We both live in Nova Scotia, we both really enjoy fermented beverages, and we both love to write. (And while he may be MUCH more successful at the writing-thing than I am, I figure I could give him a hell of run for his money in the fermented beverage category!) Perhaps most importantly, however, we’ve both been personally and significantly impacted by mental illness.

I’m not going to summarize his article for you because I want you to actually read it yourself. (Again, the link.) You will discover that it’s extremely well written and that his points are clear, concise, and CORRECT. Yep, I pretty much agree with everything he has to say. Why then, you might ask, did I feel the burning need to write a letter of rebuttal to the editor of the Globe? (Don’t worry, I recognize that I’m being overly dramatic.)

Well, here’s the gist of it… I agree with Mr. Moscovitch’s opinion about Bell Let’s Talk Day, but with an important proviso:

Yes, 24 hours of “talking” is not enough. While it’s fantastic that $7 million (CDN) will be raised today to support mental health initiatives, it still burns that Canada’s mental health care is so grievously underfunded that it requires this corporate charity.

HOWEVER, as I once wrote in this post, I’m okay with being a bit two-faced regarding #BellLetsTalk. I shamelessly happily shared and tweeted my butt off today, to make the most of what was being offered. I will also gladly continue to be a “dancing monkey” and give talks about my own mental illness, because every time I do, I save lives. This is not hyperbole. After almost every one of my talks, someone asks to speak to me privately and then discloses that they are in serious crisis. I then put everything on hold and help them find help.

I spend A LOT of time doing this “dance” and I do it all for free. And, on the odd occasion that I’m gifted with an honourarium (yes, even by Bell), I turn that money around to support the initiatives I know are more crucial. And while I certainly agree a colouring book in the break room isn’t what’s desperately needed, if it’s that’s only thing that’s being offered to me today, you can bet I’m going to colour the shit out of it!

Anyway, Mr. Moscovitch, thanks for getting so many people talking and thinking about the chasms in our mental health services with your excellent article. (You do WFNS proud!) Most importantly, however, thank you for advocating so well for your son and others who live with psychosis.

Just as you predicted, most of my conversations today were about “mental health”, but I have a mental illness and have come perilously close to losing my life because of it. Maybe it’s due to this commonality with your son, and because my family has never once stumbled on any of the many hurdles my illness has thrown at them, that I was so moved by your article. Honestly, the pure love from which it was written was nearly blinding.

Wishing you nothing but the best,
Stephanie

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Too tired to write…

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I’m the total opposite of brave!

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Hello to everyone who’s here from the Nova Scotia Health AuthorityThanks for taking the time to click that extra click!

(BTW – I’ve also been asked to give a short talk on Thursday over lunch. Location is now confirmed to be the VG Auditorium at the QEII. If you’re around, please come on by. It would be great to meet you all in person!)


I welcome every opportunity to break down the barriers that surround the subject of our mental health. So, when my organisation’s Workplace Health Promotion team asked if I’d write a post to be featured in this week’s internal communications as part of their Mental Illness Awareness Week campaign, it was an easy yes. (It’s just a bonus that I really like those peeps!)

Selecting a topic was also pretty simple. It’s something that always generates a lot of discussion when I talk about mental health in the workplace – Why I decided to disclose my illness.

When I went public with the fact that I live with a major depressive disorder, I was called “brave” and “strong” by a lot of people. This is giving me waaaay too much credit!

While it’s true that my current advocacy is primarily intended to benefit the greater good, the extent of positive impact that my initial disclosure on this blog would have on other people was COMPLETELY unanticipated. I certainly wasn’t burning with an altruistic desire to empower other people who lived with mental illness.

In reality, when I finally “came out” after living in the mental health closet for over 20 years, it no longer felt like a choice. My need to open up about my depression and suicidality was at such a critical point, it felt like it was my only option. It was just too f***ing hard to keep pretending to be healthy. I was spent and exhausted.

At the time, I couldn’t even conceive of how my disclosure would affect others. Honestly, I was far too worried about what impact it was going to have on me! Even though I knew I couldn’t keep living in secret shame, I was terrified I was making a huge mistake. Would I lose people’s respect at work? Would everyone be uncomfortable around me? Would anyone even want to still be friends with me?

You all know about stigma, right? Well, I was internalizing all of these negative attitudes about mental illness, whether they were actually real or just perceived. This is called self-stigma. It’s what kept me from seeking help when I desperately needed it, and why I was continuing to keep my diagnosis and need for medication a secret from everyone except my husband and sister.

I felt pathetic and weak, ashamed of what the depression had made me. My self-esteem was so low, the thought of someone knowing the “truth” about me made me want to vomit. Self-stigma took away every fibre of my confidence and strength, and when I did ultimately disclose my illness, the ABSOLUTE last thing I felt was brave.

As it turned out, much to my shock and knee-trembling relief, my big reveal was met with nothing but pure compassion and support. It’s not exaggerating to say that my disclosure saved my life.

Yes, I still live with depression. I still need to take multiple medications to feel well and I still have periods of time when things are pretty dark. Sometimes I still struggle with daily life. The difference is, I’m no longer going through it all alone. Now my friends and family know to listen if I need to talk, my supervisor allows me a flexible schedule, and my colleagues are quick to offer support if it looks like I’m getting overwhelmed.

I know this makes it sound like I’ve just shifted the burden of my illness onto others, but in reality, it’s the opposite.

Before I came out of the mental health closet, I spent most of my daily allotment of energy just trying to appear “okay”. Behind that facade, I was slowly sinking into a deep pit. Eventually, I wouldn’t even have enough energy to leave the house and my body and mind would want to shut down. Only time, and a lot of rest, could pull me out of the darkness enough for me to start into the cycle all over again.

Needless to say, I was accumulating a lot of sick time. And, when I did physically make it into work, I was inefficient and unproductive. Now, if I need to, I’m able to adjust my schedule and am comfortable asking for support. In terms of maintaining my health, this is as crucial to the balance as are my medications.

Also, my absenteeism has decreased dramatically because my workplace is now a “safe space”. I no longer feel like I have to avoid it at all costs if I’m feeling vulnerable or down. There are days that it may still take some extra effort to leave the house, but it no longer cripples me. Because I miss less work and am more effective when I’m there, my mental illness actually affects my coworkers significantly less (if at all) now that everyone knows about it.

So, if this is true, why doesn’t everyone choose to disclose? Unfortunately, it all comes back to stigma.

Even with all of the education initiatives and advocacy programs, there continues to be stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination. Some experts feel that self-stigma is such a pervasive problem, it should be addressed as a clinical risk.

There are no patients who don’t have stigma. Stigma by itself has to be recognized as a symptom of mental disorder—not only an impact. – Amresh Shrivastava, MD (University of Western Ontario)

But here’s the ironic thing about about stigma… the only thing that has been proven to be effective at significantly reducing stigma is “contact”. This means, in order for someone to feel less negative about mental illness, they need to be aware that someone they know has it. But what person with a mental illness wants to disclose to the person that needs this important contact to feel less negative? Add to the mix the fact that WE ALL know someone with a mental illness (we just might not know that we know) and this paradox makes my brain hurt!

Mental illness indirectly affects all Canadians at some time through a family member, friend or colleague. And in any given year, 1 in 5 people in Canada will personally experience a mental health problem or illness. – Canadian Mental Health Association

I guess this brings us right back to my friends in the Workplace Health Promotion team asking to include this post in this week’s internal communications… it’s all about contact. So, thanks for coming, but before you leave and get back to work, please allow me to share one more thing.

These days I drink alcohol only very occasionally, and if I do chose to have a beer or glass of wine, it’s pretty rare for me to have more than one. Often, when socializing with people who don’t know me very well, someone will ask why I’m not drinking, or if I have had a drink, why I’ve now switched to water.

The answer to that has the potential of being a real buzz-kill, but I don’t want to lie, so I often choose to be a little flippant and say something like, “The stability of my brain chemistry is hard enough to control without adding more fuel to that fire.”

Usually, this gets a laugh and the interest ends. However, sometimes my wit isn’t enough of a deterrent and I get hit with follow-up questions. At this point, I go with this unvarnished truth, “I live with a major depressive disorder and take three different medications to keep me well. I’ve learned not to mess around too much with that delicate chemical balance.”

This is the turning point. It’s pretty much 50/50 whether the person chuckles nervously and then turns to talk to the person sitting on their other side, or whether they’ll lean in, lower their voice, and tell me how mental illness has affected someone in their life. Inevitably, before the conversation is over, they’ll comment on my courage or strength.

Do you think it’s brave if a colleague tells you they’ve had to stop putting sugar in their coffee because their blood glucose is running high? Do you commend them for openly admitting to their body’s inability to produce enough insulin? Probably not.

Perhaps, if I just keep having these conversations, there will eventually come a time when people won’t think I’m brave either… they’ll just think I’m normal.

Until then, thanks for making contact!

Looking back while looking forward…

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October 1st is the start of Mental Illness Awareness Week.  This is an annual national public education campaign designed to help open the eyes of Canadians to the reality of mental illness.

There are a couple of projects that need my focus this weekend, but I didn’t want October to start without something new on this page. (And I’m just going to pretend I’m being cleverly ironic by using an old post as my something “new”!)

It’s been five years since I wrote the following post. It was the first time I publicly acknowledged that I had tried to kill myself in university. Despite all of the positive support the post garnered, I was still drowning in shame. It was almost six months before I was able to write about it again.

Yes, this post is old, but it may also be the most personal thing I’ve ever written on the stigma I felt about my mental illness… it was certainly the most difficult!

I think Mental Illness Awareness Week, a week our country has dedicated to starting conversations and dispelling myths, is a fitting time to revisit it. Please follow the link below and have a quick read (it’s very short), then tell me if you agree.

I should’ve talked about this a long time ago

“It’s okay to feel desperate, and it’s okay to talk about it.
Please, tell a friend or call a hotline. I wish I had.”