One more area where stereotypes get in the way
When it was reported last week that Owen Wilson was admitted to a hospital following a suicide attempt, the semi-serious news talk circuit finally had something to discuss with real potential to help someone. And maybe the ensuing discussion has helped. But the lion’s share of comments I heard were from tabloid-worthy entertainment folks who went on about how happy Owen Wilson always seemed so happy.
That’s something we seem to hear often when someone commits or attempts suicide. Commentators, whether on TV, radio or the neighbor’s front steps, too often focus on superficial trappings to determine how someone should be feeling. Even in cases like that of Kyle Ambrogi, the star athlete from the University of Pennsylvania, where depression is a known issue to surrounding friends and family, people often wonder why people with depression or anxiety can’t simply count their blessings and be happy.
It seems we all judge people this way from time to time. Sometimes we judge ourselves this way. We look at someone with a lot of material possessions or an attractive mate, and we are perplexed that anyone could be anything short of blissful while walking in those shoes. At times we even think this way about people we know more intimately, and it distracts us from realizing the internal discord they’re feeling. It distracts us from seeing signs we might recognize if we weren’t so fixated on the surface of things. I know about this firsthand, and I know the feelings of regret that follow when you find out about someone’s troubled mind the hard way.
But what stirred in me most over the past few days was how dangerous it can be when the person having the difficulty falls into the trap of ignoring the cumulative warning signs of overwhelming depression or anxiety. When you feel yourself slipping, but you manage to convince yourself it’s not really happening, things can really sneak up on you.
Sometimes we’re unable to see ourselves as being vulnerable, perhaps thinking that failing to address our vulnerability will magically make it go away. Sometimes we’re simply too ashamed of it to risk letting others see that vulnerability. I know both sides of this coin. I’ve been the person other people leaned on, and, not wanting to let them see my weakness, I’ve pretended nothing was wrong. I’ve also felt powerless watching people I’ve cared about deny their own need.
I’ve long been frustrated with the perceptions of mental illness in our society. I’m not sure if it trickles down from the government, or if the mental health policy defects are a result of popular misconceptions about mental health issues. I like to think of it as a top-down process of misinformation that benefits from society’s tacit approval; and perhaps, if the popular misconceptions could be broken down, perceptions might eventually change.
Someday people might realize that depression and anxiety (and all sorts of other related issues) aren’t mysteriously solved by having money or a good-looking mate. Someday people might actually try to solve their issues without simply applying a veneer to mask the inner turmoil they’re so afraid of letting others see. But it usually starts with the capacity to admit help is needed.
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