Friday, September 14, 2012

The stigma. And owning it...



As I have written this blog, I have been given very well-intentioned feedback about how writing about this topic could destroy my career.  And I agree with the feedback.  It could.  Because of the stigma connected with mental illness.  This, in my opinion, is a very real thing.  This stigma has controlled a significant part of my life.  But why is there a stigma?  People can be mentally ill and still be good people.  I know that.  My Mom was a good person.  So were my clients.  Even if their behavior was sometimes hard to handle.  So what is the stigma about?  If you think about it, the stigma is evidence of our discomfort with anything different.  We are attracted to homogeneity.  We tend to dress alike.  We want to hang out with people of our “kind”, whether that is related to religion, ethnic background or age-group.  How often do you see an 18 year-old voluntarily hanging out with a 40 year-old friend?  We are even uncomfortable with people who dress differently.  What do you think when you see a young person with pants hanging down?  Or purple hair?  Or even someone with multiple piercings and tattoos?   How about an older adult with a suit on, for a younger person?  If you are honest with yourself, you will tell me that you are uncomfortable.  It is almost normal.  And sometimes mental illness can make people “look” different.  Some of my clients were not very clean.  Some were socially appropriate regarding cleanliness, but still seemed different in mannerism.  Sometimes they looked normal, but their behavior set them apart.  And of course, we tend to want to label people for their differences.  If someone is talking to themselves as they walk down the street, or is dancing to a beat that they are the only one able to hear…we will walk across the street to avoid them.  I think that is understandable.  Somewhat.  Maybe.  

But when we allow those natural differences to poison our relationships with other human beings, I see it as very dysfunctional.  We do it when we scapegoat people for being different.  Maybe, we don’t allow the Jews or the Muslims into the country club.  Or we outlaw kids wearing baggy pants.  Or we make it illegal for the mentally ill homeless to congregate in our parks.  We take our natural discomfort with what is different and we justify it through law.  Or through our actions.  Remember Jim Crow laws? They were an attempt to legalize our belief that people of color were not “normal” or just like us.  And how about laws that discriminate against LBGT people?   Again, we take our belief about a behavior that we can’t relate to and make the behavior illegal.  We punish those who are different.

One of the themes that you will see throughout my blog is that I have always felt different.  I am nothing if not a sponge for what goes on around me.  And as I watched the reactions to my Mom, I got it.  She was different.  And as her daughter, I am different also. That became a belief by which I operate.  Landmark would call it a racket.  Which I use as an excuse for a variety of behaviors that separate me from the rest of the human race.  Do you do this too?  If you are mentally ill, or have a family member that is mentally ill, do you separate yourself from other people for that reason?  Do you hide?  Or are you able to come out? 

This blog is almost my coming out party.  I am telling you that the mentally ill are here.  They are us.  They are me. And my neighbor. And my friend. And you. And your loved one. I love all of us anyway.  So, here I am.  If you don’t want to hire me, don’t. If you don’t want to be my friend, don’t.  I choose to love myself anyway.  I am not defined by my diabetes.  And I am not defined by mental illness either. I exist for those who can see past that part of me.  Those are the people really capable of loving unconditionally.  Those are the people that will be able to hear me. I certainly hope that YOU can take that on for yourself.  Being who you are is not cause to judge.  You are a child of God.  And that is good. 

No comments: