A few days ago I received an email that repeatedly described the serious mental health crisis I had last year as me being ‘delicate’ (the inverted comma’s are the sender’s).
Twelve months ago, I could barely speak, I was having multiple panic attacks every day, I felt unable to work, unable to express myself, unable to socialise and I deeply felt there was no one in the world who cared about me.
What saddens me, though, is that there still exist aggressive prejudices against mental illness in our society, which is a barrier for many people who need help.
Contact me, whoever you are, I will listen, contact the Samaritans, contact someone.
Depression makes us isolate ourselves, and it is difficult to move into a mindset where we can see our own values if we do not keep close to people who care about us.
I know that, as a white man, people are more likely to believe me when I recount my experiences, but as a white man who does not confirm to normalised societal modes of engaging with emotional behaviour, I am often sneered at and laughed at and mocked by other people.