*Content/trigger warning: mental health, depression, suicidal feelings.
This post is a contradiction. It starts with the experience of one person, extrapolates out from that to consider the potential hardships faced by others, and then argues that this extrapolation may be unsafe from a policy and practice perspective. Our topic is the long-term mental health consequences of the pandemic, of lockdown and social restrictions, and of its easing – specifically, those consequences we have not necessarily seen coming, because to those who do not know, they do not seem logical.
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| Katsushika Hokusai: The Great Wave off Kanagawa |
I have knowingly lived alongside depression for nearly two decades. There have been long periods where it has been minimal and manageable, and others where it has nearly destroyed me. Many who experience mental ill health in any form will recognise this undulating pattern, and that the peaks and troughs can have exactly nothing to do with how well life is going objectively. I’ve felt perfectly steady in situations of very high pressure. Conversely, the lowest point of the last few years was at a prestigious conference. I was presenting my work – an opportunity I had been looking for since starting my research – while internally considering whether I wanted to remain alive. I doubt any of the audience would have suspected, because I performed the role of the good presenter. I did what was expected – by them, by me, by the world. More recently, but less severely, I had a short but acute period of utterly disabling depression after submitting my PhD thesis. Something excellent and long-awaited had happened. Celebration was expected, even in lockdown, but I wanted only drawn curtains and my duvet.
During the pandemic, we have had over a year of restriction, upheaval, loss, fear and strain. There has been some discussion of the impact on psychological wellbeing, but nowhere near enough. It has become an afterthought to vaccines and viral containment, which is understandable, and to macro-economics, which may be less so. Alongside we mental illness veterans, hundreds of thousands of people have consciously experienced moderate or severe mental ill health for the first time in their lives.
What particularly concerns me however is the psychological impact of the easing of lockdown. With all its hardship, pandemic restrictions have been our reality. The end of lockdown will represent a change to that reality. It will be accompanied by returning to workplaces, pubs, cinemas, planes, trains and shopping centres.
For some, the change back will be more jarring than they can currently anticipate, even if, like the submission of my thesis, it is on the face of it a ‘good thing’. We are facing a third wave of mental distress. There are those of us who have managed symptoms for years, and those who recognised their genesis in lockdown. There is a strong chance that after the jubilation, many will start noticing that they aren’t feeling how they think they should. They may try to rationalise it – ‘I wasn’t on the frontline, I didn’t lose anybody, I wasn’t furloughed – why the hell do I feel like this?’. If we are not careful, no-one will tell them that this is normal, if awful, and they are entitled to help.
I am unbelievably fortunate. I understand my condition well. I am by-and-large not shamed by it. I have friends, family and colleagues who understand it and me. I have a job with a degree of flexibility. For all of those wonderful protective factors and others, all that privilege of acceptance, the first stage of any episode is still denial, and the second is the instinct to run, hide and dynamite all my bridges. For anyone going through this for the first time, and particularly going through it when they think they should be celebrating like it is VE day, the loneliness, alienation and self-doubt could be pernicious and devastating. It could be fatal. In the context of public policy, planning and rebuilding, and particularly for those who do not want to go back to ‘normal’ but to create a fairer reality, we need to be prepared to offer a pro-active and public response to varied and individual suffering. At the point of both collective relief and collective exhaustion, we need to be ready to be accepting and kind. And we need to do it now.
Below are links to support organisations relating to the issues raised in the post:
- www.samaritans.org
- Samaritians phone number: 116 123 (for free, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year)
- www.mind.org.uk
- www.mhm.org.uk
- www.thecalmzone.net
- womensmentalhealthnetwork.com
- www.mentalhealth.org.uk/tags/bame
- mindout.org.uk
- www.rethink.org
Thank you for sharing Jack. This will resonate with so many people. At the heart of it, you ask why whilst highlighting fortunate circumstances, this is so important because there is no higherarchy of pain and suffering. It isn't a game of trumps, pain and suffering is personal: it is also shared, events of the past year go far to unite us and acknowledge that suffering is universal. Love and genuine compassion is too, I hope that this is extended and people's memories behold the significance of what has happened and are kind regardless of who is speaking and who is silent with their endeavours.
ReplyDeleteInteresting and thought provoking read, thank you.
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