Sticks and Stones…

CN: discussion of suicide, no details

I learned the words long before I knew what they meant.

Crazy. Insane. Nuts. Psycho. Lunatic. Schizoid.

I learned the words long before I realized our favourite babysitter Margaret fell into that category. She was our funny babysitter who played the best games. Our quiet babysitter who my Mom urgently said to not make cry. I overheard my parents and their friends complaining to each other how no one else would hire Margaret anymore even though she was at no risk to others. It became moot as she was in the hospital more and more. The one time we went to see her she was still, fragile and motionless, her entire body etched in sadness. Several years later my Mom informed me that Margaret was dead. The hospital she had been staying at was the Whitby Psychiatric Hospital, now Ontario Shores. Then it was a cluster of buildings perched beside white cliffs overlooking Lake Ontario. Margaret had gone on an unsupervised walk and threw herself off one of the cliffs. I asked why, something, of course, that my Mom couldn’t answer.

Years passed and I learned what all those words meant. They meant crazy, or mentally ill as many adults said. The rest said crazy too. Crazy meant yelling on street corners… talking to themselves… screaming at the moon… things normal people wouldn’t do. And jumping to their deaths. Like Margaret.

I was horrified to find out that when someone’s discovered, perched up high, deciding whether to jump (because it’s extremely hard to push past that need to live) people will congregate below and yell for them to jump. As if their lives are meaningless, akin to an 8-bit video game. I couldn’t imagine dying being stared at by indifferent strangers while thinking that everyone hated me. Someone who’s suicidal already feels the absolute worst about themself so this would be like rubbing salt in a wound. I wanted to run around and catch every last jumper. To sit beside them and assure them they’re both wanted and needed, that they have a place in the world.

Then it came my turn to fall under the crazy umbrella and I found myself unable to tell anyone due to the stigma. Our local mall is two storeys high at one end; the top storey is cut out in the centre and edged with a waist high railing. I’d never had any issues with said railing, in fact I’d barely noticed it. But suddely I had this incessant need to yeet myself over the edge and plummet to the floor. This would be painful and humiliating but, almost certainly, not deadly seeing as I’d only fall one floor. This urge went on for several decades, leading me to always walk beside the stores. It’s what’s known as “intrusive thoughts” because it’s an unwanted thought and, while it would cause harm, it was not intended to and wouldn’t cause death.

The next thought was at the bus stop. I’d be waiting for the bus then get this strong urge to jump in front of oncoming traffic. It terrified the crap out of me and I’d stand a body’s length away from the road until the bus approached. At the time I thought both of the nightmares my brain was chucking at me were the same. They aren’t. This one is “suicidal ideation” because even though I didn’t want to die I was standing on the side of a minor highway so my chances of making it out alive were significantly lower. Luckily the solution was the same for both. Unluckily the solution didn’t come until I was properly medicated in my 40’s. This problem started in my teens. Without stigma how much safer would I have felt?

And it’s not just me. I’ve belonged to online groups, in person groups, and zoom groups as well as simply talking to people at the hospital (because when you’ve been admitted talking is one of the only things you can do) and the stigma affects everyone. While there are other groups who have negative terms used against them, I think mental illness is the only one who has their slurs used so often and as such broad descriptions.

“That idea’s so crazy!” someone will say, as if an idea could think.
“You’re insane if you think that will work” when it’s simply a proposal that’s different but not particularly risky.
“She’s nuts,” when they really mean eccentric.
“He’s an absolute lunatic,” says his former partner in an attempt to discredit him.

Everything from the weather to the latest clothing style can be described as crazy. The word (and its cohorts) are like a cross between the Energizer Bunny and a Whack-a-Mole game. They just keep going and going and pop up everywhere. And they’re always negative.

I haven’t kept it a secret that I’m mentally ill. Not because I’m super brave or anything, simply because there’s no real way to hide it. I have major depressive disorder (I can’t remember for how long, too long, it can fuck off now), severe anxiety, agoraphobia, autism, mild cognitive impairment (likely due to depression) and ADD – inattentive. We had our Thanksgiving dinner last night and I spent a good chunk of my time in the living room while everyone else stayed in the kitchen. I just couldn’t go in there. There was ten people and four dogs in there plus bright lights and colour. I could hear everyone just fine so I stayed alone but that is just. not. normal. And it’s something people notice.

If people think I’m at risk of harming them because of my diagnosis, I don’t know what to say. The only one I’ve been at risk of harming is myself and I’ve been working my hardest to learn how to love myself again. Otherwise, I rescue fruit flies from my glass and let them walk around on my arm before they dry off and leave. I rescue worms from the sidewalk before they become baked worms. I try to help bigger beings too, especially if I know what they need.

I guess what I’m trying to say is think before you speak. We have an entire language at our disposal, using slurs isn’t necessary. Stigma hurts and keeps people from accessing help, often for far too long. Just because someone’s different doesn’t mean you can’t connect. Different doesn’t mean dangerous.

Today is World Mental Health Day, a day to spread awareness about the struggles people face and the successes that people achieve. Most importantly it’s there to help inform someone who might not have had this information before. Maybe that someone is you.