Facing the stigma of depression

Six and a half years ago, when I entered an in-patient psychiatric hospital for the first time, my therapists gave me a warning.\nMost people out there in the world, they told me, aren't ready to discuss mental illness. It's taboo to many of them, something you just don't bring up in public. Be ready for that.\nAt the time, I really didn't think much of that warning. I just wanted to get out of that hospital.\nBut as the years passed, I started to realize what they meant. I worked for bosses who didn't even try to understand why I sometimes couldn't concentrate on my work or come into the office every morning with a smile on my face.\nI dealt with family members who didn't want to engage in a conversation about my problems. They would simply get frustrated and change the subject or pass the phone off to someone else or practically yell at me.\nI had girlfriends break up with me when my symptoms spiraled out of control. I saw how an acquaintance's face would go blank with puzzlement or shock when I told them about my hospital stays or medication regimen.\nAnd every time any of those things happened, I was crushed. I hated myself for being ill, for being a weakling.\nBut even though those experiences were painful, I hardly ever blamed the other people for their reactions. I knew they didn't understand mental illness, and I knew I couldn't expect them to. Usually, they were simply trying to protect themselves.\nThat's an instinct I can completely relate to; for nearly seven years, I have been practicing mental and spiritual subsistence and survival. I've had to just to make it through each day.\nThat's why I understood last week when I learned that my last column, in which I detailed my recent thoughts of suicide, had not settled too well with some people on campus.\nI knew that because mental illness is still largely a taboo topic, many people might not be comfortable dealing with blunt depictions of depression. I knew that, through little fault of their own, they would be skeptical of the concept of mental illness and unsure of how to deal with it.\nAnd that's why, despite some doubts of my own, I went ahead and wrote the column. That's why I decided to be honest and matter-of-fact about what is going on inside me -- because I knew the only way to make any progress is to bring the subject of mental illness out from the shadows.\nI did not write the column to say that suicide is OK, that giving up is a valid option. If I actually believed that killing oneself is a good way to solve problems, I wouldn't be alive right now.\nI wrote the column simply to say that depression, that mental illness, is not a rare occurrence, that more people than you know suffer from brain disorders. I wrote it because I hoped I could let people know that they aren't alone in their struggles, that they aren't freaks.\nAnd, in the end, I wrote it to make sure people like me -- like us -- hold on to hope, both in ourselves and those around us.\nSociety will catch up. It just might take a little time.