20 Years in the making: why's this taken you so long?

And why becoming and living as your authentic self isn't easy.

When I came out the other side of my most recent bipolar episode two and a half years ago, I was determined for some good to come of it. I wanted to help others. Help others avoid what I'd gone through; help others get through it; demonstrate that recovery and a normal life is not only possible but should be expected.

I wasn't sure in what form this help would take. Whether I would change my career direction and look to take a role directly supporting those experiencing mental health difficulties one-to-one or whether I could do something alongside my current work.

As mentioned in my first post, writing about my experience in the form of personal journals has become part of my life over the last few years. Initially I was doing this for it's cathartic benefits. Then, more recently I've started to write articles to share my experiences in the form of guest blogs for other sites. But, I haven't published them directly, or in a way that is attributed back to me.

I've come to realise that sharing my story could be hugely powerful. To help those currently in the grips of a condition but also to raise awareness - particularly of mental health difficulties among men. There just aren't many guys talking about this stuff. By being open myself it may encourage others to speak up if they're struggling - to a mate, family member or reach out to a helpline or healthcare practitioner.

By not coming forward and sharing my story I'm indefinitely failing to fulfil the promise I made to myself to find a way to help others. So, now two and a half years on from my last episode and 20 years since my original diagnosis, why haven't I put myself out there?

Put simply, I've just been too scared to share. And it comes down to good old fashioned mental health stigma. My concern, deep down, is that if I come forward and make it known that I'm someone that has experienced serious mental health difficulties in the past that people might think differently of me and treat me differently.

My biggest concern has always been that opportunities I might otherwise be offered may no longer be forthcoming. That if I look to change jobs and a potential employer searches for me online and finds out my history, that I could be discounted from the role without further consideration. All just because I've a mental health diagnosis - even though I'm fully recovered and it doesn't affect my professional abilities. And I don't think these are completely unfounded fears. Connie, who has been hugely encouraging to me on this journey kindly added some balance about the impact being open could have.

​It is true that if you fully embrace it, some people will judge you or look at you differently even if you demystify what bipolar means. That’s because some people are prejudiced and won’t change. Or will see you as a potential threat to their belief system or their peace and won’t want to get involved. And sometimes these people are really close to you and that hurts big time. It’s their choice though and that shouldn’t frame your interaction with the world and your own sense of identity – I think they are missing an opportunity to free themselves from prejudice. It might even impact who hires you in the future. So there are definitely reasons to hold back. But people who have made the choice to be fully open about their mental health have accepted this risk, they consider that people who would use this against them to not be friends with them, not enter a relationship with them or not hire them are simply people they don’t wish to have in their lives (or if they are already in their lives they distance themselves from their judgement).
-- Connie, Mary Frances Trust

Unsurprisingly, I'm not the first person to have these worries before opening up publicly about such a sensitive issue. Louise Gillet describes the feeling concisely when she opens in her book 'Surviving Schizophrenia: A Memoir' with:

​I am a middle-class mother of four children. I look and behave as you might expect a person of my age and stage of life to look and behave.

However, at the age of nineteen I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I have always felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment about this and kept hidden for many years even after it became clear that the label was erroneous. I have agonised for many years over whether to make my story public – I have written this book, re-written it, changed the names, changed them back again, written it again under a pseudonym, tried to change it into a novel... Finally, last year on a writing holiday at the wonderful Arvon Centre in Totleigh Barton, Devon, matters became clear. This is my story, and I am ready to stand by it. It is a true story and any value that it has for others lies in that fact.
​-- Louise Gillet, Surviving Schizophrenia: A Memoir

This statement resonates so much with me and it encapsulates exactly how I've been feeling in recent weeks about going public with this site.  I too, have toyed with the idea of publishing it under a pseudonym, but just like Louise I feel strongly that it's my story and for me to tell it authentically I must do it as myself.

Whilst these concerns may have been true 20 years ago I believe that good mental health is no longer seen as an issue for a minority group but has become far more mainstream in recent years. The importance of workplaces being supportive environments for good mental health has just been illustrated by The Surgeon General in the US which has recently released a report discussing how “Our workplaces play a significant role in our lives”.

It includes these three interesting data points:

1. 76% of U.S. workers reported at least one symptom of a mental health condition.
2. 84% of respondents said their workplace conditions had contributed to at least one mental health challenge.
3. 81% of workers reported that they will be looking for workplaces that support mental health in the future

Therefore, far from me being in a minority here, I'm grouped with 76% of the population who have reported a mental health condition. The final point is particularly important; that four out of every five US employees consider their mental health to be of such importance that they specifically look for workplaces that are supportive of their mental health needs; these are workers who don't wait for an employer to discriminate against them but instead discriminates against any employer that is not sensitive to their needs. When 81% of the working population demand this, employers need to listen and appreciate the value a neurodiverse workforce can bring.

The report continues with:

​The pandemic has presented us with an opportunity to rethink how we work. We have the power to make workplaces engines for mental health and well-being. Doing so will require organizations to rethink how they protect workers from harm, foster a sense of connection among workers, show them that they matter, make space for their lives outside work, and support their long-term professional growth. This may not be easy. But it will be worth it, because the benefits will accrue to both workers and organizations. A healthy workforce is the foundation for thriving organizations and a healthy community
-- ​Vivek H. Murthy, M.D., M.B.A. Vice Admiral, U.S. Public Health Service, Surgeon General of the United States

I hope, therefore, that my fears turn out to be false. 

The irony for me is that since July 2021 I've been part of the 'End Stigma Surrey' mental health campaign as a Lived Experience Champion. Yes, I want to end stigma that's associated with mental health, but it seems the first person I need to convince, and teach to live and breathe that motto, is me! My internalised stigma is what's holding me back - and, just like all stigma - it's based on ignorance and fear rather than fact. I've no idea whether my fears of being open about my mental health will negatively affect how others perceive me, or whether it would affect opportunities available to me in the future. It's pure conjecture that exists only in my head.

In actual fact, it's quite possible that the opposite could be true. That by being open about my mental health it shows that I have insight and knowledge about my condition, that I'm able to manage and control it and that I've developed great strength to be able to talk about something very personal with confidence and face my fears. Further, by opening up publicly about my condition, opportunities may be created. It may encourage other people to reach out - others that may also be campaigning around mental health, others who may be on a recovery journey, or who may be specifically looking for someone with the qualities and values that I now live by and am starting to share.

The following diagram by Jeremy Finch succinctly sums up the problem of being to scared too share and how it is a detriment to society. It shows how there is a large pool of people who have inspirational stories in all aspects of life but sadly don't have the confidence to come forward. For too long I've been sitting in that group.

Too scared to share. By Jeremy Finch.

​The diagram is showing that almost 100% of the people who want to be heard are pulling that off. Some of those are annoying and saying the wrong things, sure. But the way to deal with that is not to get angry but to enter the area. It's time to turn envy, disappointment, and sometimes outrage into better work.

So, the time has come to honour the promise I made to myself back in July 2020. I must overcome my self-stigma, open up to the opportunities that may arise by telling my story and ultimately to make sure some good comes from the rollercoaster journey that has been 20 years of Bipolar Disorder.

And as we enter 'Movember', the annual moustache themed campaign to get men talking and address some of the major reasons men are dying too young - and to coincide with the Mary Frances Trust's 'Men's Wellbeing Matters' campaign - now seems like the perfect time.