World Mental Health Day 2017
Not many kids start therapy at the age of four.
I did.
Not many kids have days out of school to go to specialist clinics. Not many kids have session after session with the school counsellor, learning when not to hug people. And not many kids go to regular therapy with their mum, at a lovely place with a pond out front that yes, of COURSE I fell into.
And I suppose not so many people get weekly sessions with the university psychologist months after he was meant to stop offering them, because what was going on in my head was too wild, too big to treat all at once. Not so many people get referred to a psychiatrist explicitly because a counsellor has no idea what to do with them. Not many people receive six or seven mental health diagnoses, some of which might even be right. Not many people take as many pills as I've taken, suffer as many side effects as I've suffered, as many waking nights, as many doubts.
And I suppose it sounds like a terribly unlucky story, from that angle. But it’s not. It’s the luckiest story you could hope for in the whole world. Because in nearly every moment I needed help, help was there. I had a teacher quick enough to notice my behaviour and get me referred to a clinic that could help. My universities both had free psychological services. My psychiatrist, bless him, saw students from the local uni for what they could afford. I lived in a country where medication cost $5 with low income concessions, and now I don’t, I am supported by good insurance and someone who loves me.
So let's look at that story again, shall we?
There's a four year old girl in chaotic circumstances. People have recommended counselling, but there are no free services and no money to pay for it. A few years later, her unusual behaviour at school is noted, but instead of being encouraged to seek help she is repeatedly punished. She grows up and makes it to uni, somehow, but she develops crippling panic attacks and can't afford to see a therapist. She scrapes up the money to see a doctor and is prescribed medication, but without insurance she can't buy it often enough to take it reliably. She might have a fair idea of what's wrong with her, thanks to patient communities and the Internet. And then again, she might not. Either way, she's spent her life just treading water, and no matter what she does the water keeps rising.
I wouldn't lay bets on that girl being happy. Or safe. Or alive.
We can't keep telling people to seek help without ensuring that help is accessible. We can't keep telling people it's their fault they don't get better when we deny them the things they need to make that happen. Mental health treatment needs to be accessible to anyone, whenever they need it. A compassionate and common-sense society demands no less.
Don't say "it gets better". Say "how can I make it better?"
#WorldMentalHealthDay
