How Stigma Hurts People With Mental Illness
And what you can do about it.
“Oh! He’s playing that old trick!” That was the response of my dad’s friend when he told them I was being medically retired from the police due to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I wasn’t surprised, and this wasn’t the only comment. It got so bad that I used to get angry if my loved ones divulged my mental illness to anyone because I expected abuse each time.
Being called a liar is only a tiny part of the overall stigma attached to all mental illnesses. Fear, scorn, and even hatred are rampant.
As a society, we need to end the stigma surrounding mental illness, and this starts with individuals. First, we need to identify the types of stigma, and then I’ll discuss how to overcome each one.
1. People think you’re lying.
Many people think the mentally ill are making up or exaggerating their symptoms for benefits and social security. This isn’t helped by prominent people on social media denying that depression even exists.
This stigma surrounded me more than most. As I became ill through my job as a police officer, I was medically retired, aged 27, with an injury award to compensate me.
To many outsiders, I had the ideal life. I could sit at home all day and do anything I wanted. The reality was less rosy.
I didn’t want to DO anything except die. I spent the best part of a decade rarely leaving the house. I’d have given up the money and worked for minimum wage if it meant my depression lifted.
Most people hate their jobs. They struggle to make ends meet. They got angry when they saw I didn’t have that problem, but didn’t understand I had my own.
Some people see those with mental illness as lazy. Firstly, don’t try to justify yourself. The people who matter know you and your circumstances. The people who love you won’t judge.
If you have a voice and an opportunity, use it to educate others. That’s the purpose of my articles and newsletters. I don’t expect to change the world, but I’ve made a slight difference, and you can, too.
2. You feel pressured to keep smiling.
The police force is a macho world. It tries not to be, and some of the newer recruits couldn’t fight sleep, but it is. This is good and bad. Good because it gives you an edge when tackling society’s worst people. Bad because you feel unable to reach out for help.
When I started suffering the symptoms of PTSD, I held back from asking for help for a long time. I knew it would be bad for my career. I wanted to be a firearms officer one day (UK police are routinely unarmed), and I knew any mention of a mental health problem would put an end to that.
I knew my colleagues who had been to the same incidents and seen the same things would wonder why I was weaker than they were. Why were they fine, and I was messed up? I’d gained their respect over the years and felt pathetic.
You may feel the same thing in your friend or workgroup. Everyone has problems, but you’re the one who falls apart. You wonder what’s wrong with you.
A smile is the easiest thing to fake in the world. A lot of people who seem to have it all together are masking excruciating pain. Those people you think are living a dream life may secretly envy you.
People look down on each other because it takes the spotlight off themselves. No one’s there when they cry themselves to sleep every night.
Being vulnerable and open about your feelings is a sign of strength. Of course, you must be selective about whom you confide in, but you only explode when you bottle things up.
Years later, I found out that other officers at the scenes, which traumatized me, also suffered. They just hid it.
Like me.
3. The people who are meant to help look down on you.
As a police officer, I worked closely with mental health professionals on dozens of cases. I was important — an equal to them.
When I was an inpatient at a mental hospital, I accidentally walked into an office, and the secretary panicked and shouted for me to get out. She feared for her safety.
The “me” that used to cry over roadkill had crossed over into the realm of the mentally ill, and that carries a whole bunch of presumptions.
Mental health professionals have always treated me like a second-class citizen at best and dangerous at worst. In contrast, they come across as smug and superior. If you get better, it’s down to them. If you don’t, you didn’t try hard enough.
I spent years fighting the system, getting angry, and trying to prove I was more intelligent than the professionals. It was all a waste of time. I’d grin and bear it if I had to start over again. Mental health is underfunded, so you won’t spend much time with a professional. When you do, use them for what you need and get on with your day.
As smug as they can be, don’t waste time battling them, or you’ll continue to be seen as unstable.
4. You scare people.
I never noticed the stigma of fear until I was diagnosed with schizophrenia at age 27. By that time, I was convinced a famous magician was stealing my thoughts and that Obama was rounding the mentally ill up and sending us to death camps in Siberia. I also had frequent auditory hallucinations telling me to harm myself or that I was worthless.
I believed these delusions 100%. I used to write page after page documenting my “evidence.” Even my family would recoil because they knew it was nonsense, but they couldn’t be so brutal as to say that. Nor did they want to encourage me.
Sometimes, I’d walk down the street and think I saw a spy. “THERE’S ONE!” I’d shout to my mum, and an embarrassing situation would occur.
The thing is, as bad as these situations were, people with schizophrenia — or any mental illness — are far more likely to harm themselves than anyone else. The media loves to feed us fear with the rare cases where someone was murdered during a psychotic episode. Yet the rarity of these incidents is why the media latches onto them.
The only way to deal with this one is to be yourself. You can’t control other people or their reactions. You have enough problems trying to recover and stay healthy. Don’t let the prejudices of others distract you from your goal. In time, they’ll see you aren’t dangerous, but it’s not up to you to convince them.
Final thoughts.
The solution to most stigma-related issues involves recognizing what you can and can’t control. You can’t control the actions of others, so often, it’s better to stay in your lane, focus on yourself and your recovery, and let the rest play itself out.
If you want to play a more significant role in tackling stigma at a societal level, then educate people at every opportunity. Build an audience, find a voice, and document your experiences. The more people write about mental health, the less excuse there’ll be for ignorance.
Stigma and mental illness grow in the shadows. Light is the antidote.
If you’re living with this kind of stigma, you already know the truth:
It’s not just the illness that wears you down.
It’s the judgment. The silence. The feeling that you have to carry it all alone.
Writing about it helps. Talking about it helps.
But real change comes when you learn how to:
Handle difficult conversations without shutting down
Stop second-guessing yourself around other people
Rebuild confidence after being labelled, judged, or dismissed
That’s the work I do with my coaching.
Not theory. Not endless talking.
Practical ways to help you feel steadier in yourself and handle the real-world situations that still trip you up.
If you’re ready to stop just coping and start moving forward, you can learn more about working with me here:
This is so wonderfully written. Comprehensive too. I was reading and nodding along. It's so healing to hear a steady voice who has walked the walk and "gets it." Who continues to be honest about still walking the walk! No careful or weighed responses needed with you. Sigh.
I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Invisible illnesses are often judged harshly, but they can't see under the armor... they can't see a nervous system ravaged by trauma. You are not a lone.