Sadly, some masks are safer to remove than others; lipgloss and a sports car hide far fewer dangers than a fake smile. Removing some masks brings consequences. Devastating consequences... And strangely, removing the simplest of masks can be most traumatic.
My mask slipped once and seven months on, the conflict it caused hasn't been resolved. See, when my dad died, things happened that I couldn't deal with. Too much happened all at once, within a horrible 24 hour period. It was so bad that my mask didn't just slip, it shattered entirely and what my family saw was the brutal reality I'd been hiding. Pain. Anger. Scars. So much intense emotion that it bubbled over. Or rather, exploded out of me.
It was the wrong time for my mask to fall away, because what lay beneath couldn't be understood by those who faced it, especially not while they were grieving. However, it was also the most logical time for me to snap, while under so much pressure and feeling so many conflicting and confusing emotions... If only if it were that simple for others to rationalise.
When dad died of cancer, that wasn't beyond comprehension. It was horrific, but we all know it happens. We hear the stories and see the cancer research appeal adverts. Its's part of life and so families crowd around hospital beds, they care for their loved on on the palliative care ward and cry together as they say goodbye. That's what a terminal disease does in many cases. Even none terminal illness draws family in. The visit hospitals. Bring grapes. Come to visit your home with a box of chocolates and the notion they could, perhaps, cheer you up for a while.
But when was the last time you saw a bi-polar awareness appeal ad or a borderline personality disorder coffee morning? I bet your answer is never, despite suicide being a huge killer and depression being predicted to be more widespread than cancer by 2030. When was the last time you took a box of chocolates and a listening ear to a depressed friends house?
If you have done those things, I'm so grateful you're in the world, because you are exceptional. You are an exception to the rule. Why? Because while physical illness can be brutal on the whole family, the biology can be grasped with somewhat more ease than understanding why a loved one is screaming at you, or why they're taking a razor blade to their own skin.
There are so many misconceptions about mental illness compared to physical illness, so many that explaining them away can feel like an impossible task, especially to someone who may feel exhausted and vulnerable anyway without justifyingbsymptoms of tgeir illness. It's easier to hide a disorder than face the myth-based accusations that come from revealing it, whether your disorder is recurrent depression, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, or a phobia. That's part of why I'd kept a lot hidden in the months leading up to my dad's death. Of course I wanted to protect my dad from worrying about me, but on top of that I didn't want to deal with the fallout a revelation would leave in its wake.
Only a few people knew I was on antidepressants between January and March, and it took a lot for me to tell mam that I was cutting again, that I was sliding back into the dark pit of despair which had often been part of my life. I didn't want people to know. I eanted it dealt with as privately as possible. It wouldn't have been fair to discuss it while dad needed us to support him anyway... but I hadn't been prepared for how difficult it would be to hold back the tide of emotion that would follow dad's death. After he died everything I'd been suppressing unintentionally poured out of me, and it did it in the form of enraged words.
That was how I lost people I once loved. My inner monster raised it's head and found itself unmasked. It snarled and snapped at more than just myself, and it caused irreparable damage. And why is the damage irreparable?
Because I was blamed for it, even after I apologised for my angry words.
I was blamed for an intensity of emotion that couldn't be controlled and for a condition I was actively seaking treatment for. No amount of apologies were accepted and in the end I felt I didn't have a voice at all because I was ignored. I said sorry for reacting as I did while at crisis point, and people turned away. They left me. Those same people who'd gathered around dad just days earlier vowed never to have a relationship with me again, because I had a different illness they 'wouldn't make excuses for me'.
I was going to list what was said about me following the disintergration of my mask, but the list is long so I made another post for that which can be found here if you're interested. All I'll say her is that loved ones turned away. They turned away because I'm sick. Because my mask failed me when I needed it most.
That's what people with a mental illness face when their illnesses becomes obvious; stigma, blame, guilt and their anger at their own condition reflected back at them from people who cannot understand that their behaviour is a condition, not an attack or a malicious attempt to manipulate and control.
I snapped once. On one stressful day, and for that I've been locked out by members of my family for seven months (and counting). I can't say sorry again now, because I've already apologised for what I said, and to apologise again would require apologising for an illness which is not my choice to have. Ibwon't do that. I've apologised for losing my temper. I've apologised for what was said in the heat of the moment. I won't apologise for my illness too.
I can't take back what's done, but nor should I need too. No one expects someone suffering a heart attack to apologise for the inconvenience their attack causes others, yet with mental health, people dole out blame. They accuse and chastise. That's why most of us who suffer mental illness have become proficient at keeping our masks in place. The consequences of revealing the truth are too demeaning, too brutal, too cruel to risk while already vulnerable.
But here's the truth; we shouldn't have to wear a mask all day, everyday. That confinement is no good for recovery and no use for promoting understanding. We need to encourage empathy and support. We need to educate, not humiliate, but we're also the least equipt to handle that education because we are vulnerable. Ending stigma towards mental health problems can't be left to sufferers alone. We need more advocates for equality with other illness, for securing government funding. We need to work together, patients, carers, health professionals and others with a voice to change the discussion on mental heath and remove the disguises we're forced to hide behind.
Pseudonymous Zombie
xxx
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