I have great disdain for those who don’t take mental illness seriously. I could segue into a variety of different stories right now. Alas, I’ll try to stay on topic and make this short and sweet.
[I haven’t written in over a year because . . . life *shrug*]
Honestly, I’m struggling to find a good starting place for this entry, because it hits close to home.
Today I saw a patient struggling with postpartum depression. She called our office asking for help and guidance because she was at the end of her rope and had no where else to turn. A coworker of mine was able to convince her to come into the office immediately and we talked face to face.
After our conversation, I realized that this woman was essentially all alone. Her other children were unfortunately in another country, neither her husband or brother seemed to understand her feelings, and she has no other friends or family nearby. She has a newborn, but otherwise feels “trapped”, to use her words. [again, I could go off an a tangent about responsibilities, adulthood, men who aren’t ready for such responsibilities, etc. . .but I must digress]
We talked for what seemed like forever, yet not long enough. “I don’t know” was a common response. While this could be frustrating to some given the situation, I understood. I’ve seen members of my family struggle with feelings of depression and even had my own seasons of depression. “I don’t know” is a very truthful answer most of the time because you don’t actually know; you just feel. . . like crap.
We live in a time where suicide rates and mental illnesses are at an alarming high. There are a multitude of organizations out there dedicated to the illness of your choosing, there are even apps that allow you to obtain counseling through video and text messages!!
[Progress? Ehh maybe]
BUT . . . does any of that matter if those closest to your ignore your feelings and cries for help?? While on one hand, I’m appreciative and honored that this woman felt comfortable enough to call our office and admit her struggle; the other side of me is frustrated that she’s been struggling and those closest to her have not bothered to intervene sooner.
You mean to tell me that no one noticed the change?!?No one noticed the increased isolation, increased alcohol intake, changes in her sleep pattern, resistance to going out, the distance and walls created?
Everyone is pro “mental wellness” and posts how upset they are following the latest public suicide story, until a real live person is sitting in front of you begging for help. (Yes, I’m jaded and my faith in humanity is minimal) Spare me your social media posts of your favorite melancholy pose with matching music that is followed by your monologue about how you’re so “depressed” when you don’t get tickets to [insert celebrity’s name here] latest show.
Here’s what we do wrong when it comes to mental illness . . . TALK TO MUCH.
Shut up and LISTEN.
Sympathize. Empathize. Cry with them.
DO NOT . . .
- minimize their feelings
- advise they “get over it” or “push through”
- suggest they are weak
- rattle off a list of things they need to do to “fix it”
- assume they are being dramatic
The reality is that they’ve likely already spent a significant amount of time thinking about and doing all these things themselves; the fact that someone has chosen to open to you about their innermost thoughts and feelings means they trust you (Imagine that?). Don’t screw it up by talking more than you listen. As with most things, people aren’t looking for a quick solution; they just want someone to listen and share the burden, even if only for a few moments.
Mental health/wellness is a passion of mine. Mental illness has affected me personally and many of my patients. What irks me most is how much could be prevented or at least lessened if the people in our lives actually took the time to care as much as they say they do.
At the very end of the visit, I asked permission to give her a hug. We embraced, she cried, I cried. At some point, the patient-doctor relationship ended and there were two women left in the exam room. Two women from different backgrounds, cultures, and in different social situations; yet I believe we connected where it matters most. The heart. I attempted to encourage her . . . “it will pass”, “I understand”.
Not as an empty platitude, but because I know it will pass. It hurts and you don’t know why, you don’t have the answers which is more frustrating, and it truly seems like “it” will never pass. But it will pass, it can get better. It got better for me, and every time those feelings begin to creep back in I prepare for the struggle ahead, but ultimately know it will pass.
The next time you wonder if someone is hurting, ask them. You’ll be surprised how much emotional dead weight people carry around.
#SpeakupReachOut
Some resources:
http://www.speakupreachout.org
Midnight Medicine Musings 