Break Mental Health Stigmas

header image reading Mental Health Awareness Month. May. Break the Stigma.

Have you ever felt broken and wondered how you would take the next step forward?

What did you do?

Did you seek help? Maybe lean on a friend? Or, did you just power through telling yourself to “suck it up, buttercup”? 

Mental health affects every aspect of our lives and we may not even realize it. In 2021, 1 in 5 U.S. adults experienced mental illness but less than half of them received treatment. According to the American Psychiatric Association, “Often, people avoid or delay seeking treatment due to concerns about being treated differently or fears of losing their jobs and livelihood. That’s because stigma, prejudice and discrimination against people with mental illness is still very much a problem.”

Research shows that sharing mental health stories has a positive influence on those dealing with mental illness. By sharing our stories, we open the lines of communication and make mental health challenges relatable and less scary.

It takes a village, as they say, but even on an individual basis, we can still help reduce stigmas. The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) asked their community “How do you fight stigma?” and from the answers, came up with nine ways we all can take a stand:

  • Talk openly about mental health: Share your own story.
  • Educate yourself and others: Debunk misperceptions and negativity with facts. 
  • Be conscious of language: Remind people that language matters. Words matter.
  • Encourage equality between physical and mental illness: Explain mental illness as a disease and draw comparisons to medical conditions like diabetes, heart disease or cancer.
  • Show compassion for those with mental illness: Be present when others need to talk and model compassion for those around you.
  • Choose empowerment over shame: Own your story and refuse to let others shame you or dictate how you should feel.
  • Be honest about treatment: Normalize treatment just as with any medical procedure.
  • Let the media know when they’re being stigmatizing: Call out misrepresentation on TV, social media, etc. 
  • Don’t harbor self-stigma: Choose empowerment over shame. You are not alone.

This month is National Mental Health Awareness Month. It has been observed each May since 1949 in an effort to help combat the stigma surrounding mental illness. It’s a time when people, especially celebrities, share their personal stories to spotlight how our mental health is essential to our overall health and well-being.

We all have a story to tell. By sharing, we let others know they are not alone. 

My own story is one of grief, something we all experience.

Nineteen months ago, I watched my father take his last breath after a long health battle. The months before that were filled with doctor appointments, surgeries, COVID scares, work stresses, worry. It was relentless and overwhelming. I was sure that last breath would bring a sense of relief knowing he was free of pain and suffering but I was wrong. 

Suddenly, I was catapulted into an emotional landscape unlike anything I could have imagined. Parental loss. 

In the beginning, I was numb. I didn’t know how to process my emotions. Was I merely dreaming? It happened so fast and yet so slowly. How do I wake up from this nightmare and move on? I felt like I was walking in quicksand and each step took more effort than the one before.

Reality crept in. He was truly gone. No more chances to say what he meant to me. No more stories of past memories. No more wisdom backed by years of experience. The laugh that reverberated throughout a building was silenced forever. Gone was the larger-than-life figure I knew since before I was born, who stood up for me, protected me, guided me. 

The first year was the hardest. Every event was a reminder that he was not there anymore. Sorting through his belongings sparked memories and generated questions that will remain unanswered. 

People offered condolences. Some said “move on.” It’s been weeks or months. Time moves on and it does.

But, grief is personal. It runs deep and washes over you when you least expect it. It comes with its own timeline and triggers. You can’t fight it. You might think you can but the only way around it is through it. 

The ones who understood that, the ones who listened without judgment, provided the most healing. I’m indebted to them.

If someone you love is going through a hard time, you don’t need to have all the answers. Just being there is #MoreThanEnough.

Today would have been my father’s 84th birthday. I wrote a poem about grief in his honor. 

I encourage you to share your own story. You never know who will find comfort in your words.


Sources and Resources:

The Roller Coaster

Image of a roller coaster coming out of the darkness into light

The door locks behind me and I am alone,
The world suddenly foreign and empty. 
Uncertain, I step into the darkness searching for landmarks.
Angry gray clouds roil above and I stumble.
I feel their laughter pelt me as I struggle on.

In the distance, the roller coaster beckons me forward and I go,
Trudging along steel tracks that stretch on my right for miles. 
I am numb. Unaware. Unfocused. Confused.
Empty cars quietly roll by in steady progression.
Up ahead, they stop briefly to collect passengers and disappear into the twilight.

Closer now, shadows fill the platform, waiting to board. 
Destination unknown.
They are riders of all ages. All sizes. 
Ethnicity and gender don’t matter here.
Some arrive, like me, oblivious of the ride to come. 
A sense of shock cushions their perception.
Others step forward slowly, tangled in a haze of knowledge,
A heavy burden of pain.
Mixed in are the few joyful travelers, overcome with relief…for now.

Propelled by newcomers behind me, I advance to the station.
A car pauses and I climb in. Unready. Unwilling. Unguided. Compelled. 
Another door closes and I’m off.
The track bends and descends out of sight before me.
The stygian void reverberates the deafening silence. Cold air assaults my skin.
The car rumbles onward despite my cascading screams.

Another bend. A rise. Upward momentarily. 
A light glistens out of reach but I try anyway.
I slip and tumble…the car races beneath my feet carrying me deeper. 
Down. Down. Down.
Murky water splashing my face, I gasp. 
The car rolls on. Twisting. Turning. Undulating.

Hours pass. Seasons come and go. The darkness fades.
I round another bend comforted by a gentle breeze, the smell of spring.
Creaky wheels jolt the car randomly through well-worn terrain.
I am unbothered.
Buffered by sweet memories, I journey onward, the roller coaster unending. 
Routine. Familiar. Accepted.


 ©2023 Virginia Emrick. All rights reserved.