Some of history’s most celebrated figures had it.
Beethoven, Van Gogh, Hemingway, Michelangelo, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Leo Tolstoy, Winston Churchill, Abraham Lincoln …
Probably we all have it to some degree: mental illness, that catch-all term covering a whole gamut of problems, from depression to bipolar conditions, anxieties, phobias, attention deficit disorder, bulimia, psychosis and schizophrenia. The causes appear equally diffuse: genetic, chemical, social and environmental.
In Canada, many will be aware of Margaret Trudeau’s long fight against manic depression. As she descended deeper into a personal hell, her struggle was a family secret. It was only after her 22-year-old son died in a skiing accident that she sought help and began to climb back to the surface.
Given this history, why does society still have such a tough time accepting mental illness? Why is it still a subject, like Alzheimer’s and spousal abuse, which we prefer not to talk about?
If mental illness were exhibited by dramatic physical signs, such as blood or massive swelling, it could not be ignored by society. It would be accepted and stir compassion, not fear, revulsion or even ridicule.
But, of course, it isn’t. It is locked within the recesses of the mind. It is hard to tag, so instead we distribute our own labels – wacko, crazy, nuts, loopy – and play the game of silence and ignorance.
For far too long governments have been all too prepared to perpetuate this game. Silence means there is no pressure to ensure the mentally ill receive the early diagnosis and treatment they so badly need. It means an illusion can be maintained that mental illness doesn’t exist, that it is something nebulous, that it is an excuse for those who are disappointed in life.
It is more convenient and expedient for judgmental societies to look for other causes – laziness or lack of spirit. How much more preferable it is to tell people to pull themselves together, stop malingering, stop indulging in self-pity.
And as is so often the case, it is left to highly motivated citizens to become the driving force for change, to do what is good, right and compassionate. That is what is happening now in Barrhead.
In an ideal world there would be no need for the Ripple Connection Support Centre, which describes itself as a “place where you can connect with family and friends of persons living with mental illness.”
Yet we don’t live in an ideal world. Joyce Sheren and Darcy Lockhart saw a hole in services for the mentally ill and decided to try to fill it. They are not being paid for this job. Their reward is seeing improvement in those who attend the centre.
Last Tuesday, the Ripple Connection formed its first board, a key milestone in its evolution and something we should all celebrate. As the centre charts its future it will need plenty of help.
Thankfully this seems to be happening. The Rotary Club and the Knights of Columbus have already provided cheques for one month’s expenses. Let us hope others follow suit.
Perhaps one of Ripple’s biggest contributions is to bring the debate into the open. To discuss the subject loudly and fearlessly, so it can’t skulk inside the closet, so that policymakers will have to take notice.
Nobody should suffer in silence any longer.
