Scary facts and the importance of support

Everyone knows that cancer is a killer. A big one. We're told, relentlessly by cancer charities that it's our duty to help 'fight' and 'beat' cancer, because we, or someone we know, will get it at some point. Now my purpose is not to undermine the importance of this message - cancer is a serious disease and is well worth the funding to treat and prevent it - but I do want to highlight the difference between the awareness of death from cancer and that of death from mental health disorders.

Some frightening stats

Are you aware, for example, that there are around 4400 suicides each year in the UK and that 90% of the victims are suffering from a psychiatric disorder at the time of death? (1) And that's just the successful ones. Around 10 times that number attempt and fail. Furthermore, a report carried out in 2009 suggested that 17%  of us experiences suicidal thoughts each year. These are by no means small numbers.

In 2013, there were over 49,000 deaths from Alzheimer's. That's more than the total number of deaths from breast cancer and lung cancer combined. (3)

That's a lot of fatalities and just part of the picture. 1 in 4 people suffer from a mental health condition every year. My point being, in case you hadn't guessed, this is serious.

The stigma

Image copyright: Rebecca Harris Quigg

Something you also may have noticed by now is that part of the purpose of this blog is to smash the stigma surrounding mental health issues into tiny, tiny pieces. Many people don't understand mental health disorders, and for that they cannot be blamed. It's very difficult to comprehend what depression or anxiety, PTSD or panic disorder let alone schizophrenia or psycopathy does to someone unless you have dealt with it first hand or had to support someone with such a condition.

What is unforgivable is the insensitivity that people sometimes display. I remember a time last year when I tried to open up to a colleague about the way I was feeling, before I'd identified it as depression. His response was, "So what are you going to do about it?", casually delivered as if I'd complained of a headache or a trivial work problem. This struck me as particularly cruel, and demonstrated a complete ignorance of the state I was in. He was someone that should have known better.

Depression - or any other m
ental health disorder - is not something you just fix by changing your job, or entering a relationship or thinking positively. It is a complex web that encompasses emotion, history, experience, genetics and many other things. It strikes at different times and in different ways. For me, it's something that happened so gradually I barely realised I was sinking until I was at the very bottom. For others, it comes out of nowhere.

Support

What all this is leading up to is the importance of support. I have mentioned it before, but I want to go into more detail. Support is available in the form of medication and therapy, and they are important routes to explore. But it also comes from our peers, and there are different kinds that can be offered.

When the Labrador of Doom strikes, a trusted
friend is essential. 

Being a friend to someone with a mental health issue is an extremely difficult and important thing. It's a very noble thing. And it doesn't always have to be in the form of talking about feelings. Some of us just aren't good at that kind of thing, but it doesn't mean there's nothing you can do.

One of the most solid forms of support I received was from my parents - practical support. Knowing that I could call my parents if I got myself into a mess, and that they would come round and help out was immensely beneficial. Of course they listened if I wanted to talk, but crucially, they did things. They washed up, they cooked dinner (even making baked beans on toast is too exhausting sometimes), they did the odd bit of cleaning. This simple stuff makes a hell of a difference when you're feeling like you can't cope.

I also had a lot of support from my friends. One in particular, Michael, was amazing. He kept in touch almost every day, he wished me luck each week before my therapy session, and then texted to find out how it went afterwards. Little things, but important. Not for one second did I doubt his support, and I genuinely feel that although I felt utterly worthless a lot of the time it stopped me from doubting my worth completely, just knowing that he was someone outside my family who was looking out for me.

Being close to someone with depression is hard. It's tempting to think that what they're feeling is partly your fault. For most, it isn't. Their mental condition doesn't mean that your marriage is failing, that they resent being a mother to your child, that you're a rubbish friend or parent or sibling. It just means that they are in the middle of a constant, exhausting, internal battle - one that doesn't necessarily let up when they go to sleep - and they simply can't find the energy to cope with daily life. It means their brain is just wired a little differently from everyone else's, either temporarily or permanently. Trust me, the fact that you are there at all means a lot more than you think, even if they're unable to express it.

1. http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/help-information/mental-health-a-z/S/suicide/
2. http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/statistics-and-facts-about-mental-health/how-common-are-mental-health-problems/
3. http://www.alzheimers.org.uk/site/scripts/news_article.php?newsID=2277
Cancer stats for 2012 http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/health-professional/cancer-statistics

Image courtesy of Rebecca Harris Quigg, terrible photoshopping by Sam Thorp.