Such is the stigma of mental illness
“Did you really have a nervous breakdown? You seem fine to me.”
Yep, someone actually said that to me.
Did I really have a breakdown? No, I just decided to stop functioning for a couple of years for the hell of it.
Seriously?
One of the most challenging things you’ll face when you’re recovering from a nervous breakdown is how you feel about how others are judging you and your experience. It all feels pretty unjust because a) you only see people on really good days and they’ve no idea what you go through on a bad day, b) people tend not to want to mention it, which makes you feel like you’re overreacting in their opinion and c) some people will question the validity of your experience when you’re too weak to describe what you’re going through.
Sometimes it’s the old ‘elephant in the room’ situation. Like cancer. Dave and I were quietly amused that on hearing he had cancer people crawled out of the woodwork immediately – people he’d not heard from in 20 years. All saying how ‘sorry’ they were to hear that he’d drawn the short straw in life. He was suffering no symptoms other than spotting blood in his urine once and in his own words ‘breezed through it’.
I had a breakdown where for months I was unable to write an email, walk up the stairs, make decisions, hold a conversation, take a proper shower and the majority of people I know have never mentioned it, even to this day. After all, it’s a mental issue, so … shh.
Such is the stigma of mental illness.
The best thing Dave did for me was to listen. He was gentle, kind, understanding. He joked with me, laughed with me, held my head as I sobbed in despair. He put things into perspective with me, guided me, did everything I couldn’t do for myself, allowed me time to heal and insisted I heal thoroughly, no matter if it took years (which it has). He did every single thing right. He went with his instinct, knew exactly what to say and I could not have been more grateful.
Other people, however, dismissed my experience entirely.
But that’s the thing: you can’t expect everybody to know what to say, or to be gentle with you. 99% of people won’t know have a clue what to say and whatever they say is bound to grate on your nerves anyway because they’re shot to pieces. It’s not their fault. We’re taught to sweep things under the carpet, say nothing and hope that it’ll go away. It’s how we live, moving things along at a fast pace and brushing over the inconvenient stuff.
As I say, such is the stigma of mental illness. And such is the nature of people, sadly.
Don’t take it personally. You know the truth of what’s happened and you owe nobody around you an explanation. All you need to do is focus on yourself and your recovery. You can decide how to deal with the people who misjudged you when you’re feeling a bit stronger.
