Yesterday was World Mental Health Day, so it is time to take something from my head and my phone notes and write about it here.
Why is it that when someone breaks a leg, we treat it as an emergency and instinctively show compassion, but when it comes to mental health issues, many of us pull back? Even when we want to express empathy, there’s often a hesitation, as if we’re afraid of saying the wrong thing. I’m not immune to this discomfort either, but I’m trying to learn and grow – for myself and for others. I’m working hard not to fall into the trap of trying to be a hero; I’m just a survivor, as Destiny’s Child taught me.
Growing up in the 90s and 2000s, mental health wasn’t something we talked about. It was before the internet became what it is today. Back then, boys were told to “man up” and hide their emotions. Girls, on the other hand, were often discouraged from expressing their feelings; afraid of being called “too sensitive“.
At that time, we were too young to understand shows like The Sopranos, where therapy for men was explored. Most depictions of mental health were either played for laughs or exaggerated to the point of being over-the-top. Remember Sex and the City? The idea was often, ‘I don’t need professional help; I’ve got my friends.’ I truly believe friendships are important for mental well-being and offer vital emotional support. However, they cannot replace the need for professional help, which is often overlooked.
Cultural stigma
There wasn’t even a vocabulary around it. Words like anxiety, self-care, and boundaries weren’t part of our everyday conversations. Depression was viewed as just a phase, something for the emo kids. In my culture and upbringing, mental health was rarely discussed. If someone in the family had issues, it was treated as a hidden secret, a deeply shameful thing. This mindset is still common today.
Somehow, it has been, and still is more important to maintain a good face in front of friends, strangers, and neighbours than to support or create safe spaces for those who need help. I understand it was a different time; people did and are doing what they were taught. While some progress has been made, it remains far from ideal.
Today, it often feels like a one-step-forward, two-steps-back situation when it comes to mental health. A systematic response to this crisis is still lacking. Quality therapy and care are not accessible or affordable for everyone. So we often turn to the internet for help. While there are numerous services offering help, especially online – many coaches and therapists lack proper credentials or are self-proclaimed experts.
Even those who genuinely want to help can sometimes do more harm than good. Social media platforms like TikTok provide a mix of valuable insights and potentially harmful advice, leading us to self-diagnose. And oh boy, what a spiral that can be! I also understand that finding the proper care and a proper diagnosis is a challenge on its own. This blog post alone won’t solve these issues, but I felt the need to vent somewhere. I guess it makes me feel a little less hopeless somehow.
My own story
It wasn’t until the late 2010s that my friends and I began casually using the term “boundaries,” and even then, it felt like uncharted territory. What does it mean to set a boundary? Where do we draw the line when establishing them? What should we do when someone crosses that line that we’re trying so hard to protect?
My own journey with mental health, like everyone’s, is complicated. At times, it reflects privilege; I recognise that my struggles don’t often reach the depths faced by others. Yet, there are moments and days that just suck. Those bad days sometimes hide behind a smile I’ve become so used to wearing that it feels almost culturally programmed.
When I first walked into therapy, I remember standing nervously behind the door, rethinking my entire life at that moment. I kept telling myself, “I’m fine; I don’t need this.” I almost texted some lame excuse to back out, questioning whether I really needed to cry over something that had happened years ago. In that moment, I realised I was revealing my own biases toward therapy and mental health. If a friend had called me and said they were in the same position, I would have fully supported them. Yet, I had to play a game of chicken with myself before finally knocking and stepping inside.
I am learning to accept the worst of times, just as I embrace the best of them. It took me a long time to admit to myself that sometimes I feel anxious, heavy, and hopeless. I need time and help to go through those bad days. I’m trying not to explain, rationalise, or put a positive spin on them. I now know that my feelings are not easily categorised; they exist in a nuanced space, beyond black and white.
Although the theme for 2024 is mental health as a universal human right, we still have a long way to go. Until then, we must remember the importance of setting boundaries and building community -friends, family, neighbours, and even strangers who show us kindness, both big and small. That’s what truly matters.
You are not alone in your mental health and life journey. I encourage you to check in on your friends, seek help if you need it, and learn more about mental health. Every step toward understanding and kindness counts for both ourselves and those around us. It’s the only way forward, the only way to survive.
