R U OK with Mental Health Awareness Day?

After trying to type the intro to this post in a delicate way many times over, I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t like “single day events” that are dedicated to mental health. This isn’t to say I don’t think talking about mental health is important. I absolutely do, but as someone with mental health issues I find it belittling to have the general populous designate a “safe day” to talk about something that’s literally life or death.

I appreciate the intention behind “days” like “mental health awareness day” and “R U OK” day. I understand logically that it’s well intentioned, but for me I just feel uncomfortable talking about my feelings on days like this, like as someone who’s mental state is part of the discussion I’m expected to weigh in and share, because it’s the “safe day”.

(I just want to add a disclaimer here that I know there are others who suffer from mental health issues that don’t share my thoughts and feelings about this subject and who find days like these to have a positive impact on them. My word isn’t the be all and end all, after all I can only come at topics from my tiny experience in this massive world)

I think the thing that upsets me the most about “days” is that it masquerades as a solution without hitting the systemic nail on the head. My interpretation of the problem is as follows: Talking about mental health is hard and uncomfortable, so here’s a “safe day” for “everyone” to discuss the issue, but once that day is over “everyone” can go back to not talking about these problems because it’s easier.

The sad truth of the matter is it’s only easier to sweep discussing mental health under the rug until someone dies. The end of a life makes it real, because the saddest reality is that one or two days of national support doesn’t make the other 363 days a year a supportive place to talk about the feelings that overwhelm you, or an ease the anxiety or shame that accompanies asking for help.

There are two people who have made me feel safe to talk openly and honestly about my mental health. Beckie J Brown (through her youtube channel Trichjournal) and Rachael Maria Cox (They’re a nonbinary singer songwriter with a killer band and sing/talk about feelings on the reg). The biggest thing that they have in common is that they talk about mental health all the time. They talk about what they’ve experienced, how it affects them, how they received help, how to go about finding health (etc.) They make the discussion an all the time thing, like it should be.

I started listening to a podcast called “No Feeling Is Final” the other day (mental health awareness day to be exact). Something the host Honor talks about is the simplification of the message about mental health (which I feel “days” perpetuate). “Just ask for help”. It sounds so easy, but it’s not. You spend so much time, energy and money searching for a solution, because asking for help isn’t a one time thing. It’s a full time job.

The last time I spent an extended period “asking for help” I had to take a sabbatical from the help I was seeking because the process of “getting well” was wearing me thin. Nobody tells you that “asking for help” might not lead to you getting better, because that’s not what’s easy to talk about.

So yeah, those are some thoughts I’ve been having over the past few days. After my whole pessimistic spiel, I will say I think society is slowing getting better at talking about the hard things. Social change is a hard process, but (fortunately) it doesn’t stop it from happening. (doesn’t make me any happier about “days” though ;P)

On a lighter note I made a dress! The dress I’m wearing in these here photos to be exact! It’s yet another item I’ve made to fit into my collection of pyjamacore clothing (defined loosely as clothes that look “presentable” but feel like pyjamas)

When I’m having a bit of a time with my brain, loose fitting clothing helps my existence to feel less claustrophobic, which is precisely why a lot of my recent sewing has been geared towards roomy fits (a stark contrast from me of 4 years ago with “snug” fits)

Final note: I certainly talked about some stuff in this post, and it may bring up feelings about your own stuff. If that’s the case, there is help avalible!

Lifeline on 13 11 14

Kids Helpline on 1800 551 800

MensLine Australia on 1300 789 978

Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467

Beyond Blue on 1300 22 46 36

Headspace on 1800 650 890

QLife on 1800 184 527

(And finally for my musician peeps) Support Act 1800 959 500

It's ok to not be ok - Guest post by Rachel Maria Cox

This is my lovely friend Rachel Maria Cox. They're a brilliant musician and founder of a fabulous project called Sad Grrrls club, which was originally a collective of female identifying musicians, but has since grown to encompass artists and writers as well. We had an impromptu photo shoot the other day, and decided that it's about time they do a guest post! Rachel is one of the most wisest and passionate people I know. Thank you so much for your wonderful wise words <3

I look at these photos, and there’s a lot that runs through my head. The first thing I notice is that I hate my teeth. They are yellow, which I know is a result of a combination of factors. I notice that I look skinny, and also that I do not look as skinny as I would like. I notice how bland my outfit this day was, mainly because my outfit choices are currently narrowed down by three criteria: can I wear it to work? Will it keep me kind of warm? Does it still fit?

My name is Rachel Maria Cox and in three days I will embark on the first annual Sad Grrrls Tour. I am excited that something I have worked so hard for has actually come to fruition. I am also, perhaps appropriately or perhaps ironically, the saddest I have ever been. I have lost ten kilos in three months, 18 since the start of the year, through a combination of anorexic and bulimic behaviours that have made me isolated, physically sick, depressed and exhausted. I am constantly anxious, sad or both. Yesterday I cried for an hour straight on a train by myself, unable to stop myself. I am addicted to laxatives. And I am telling you all about this, not for attention or sympathy, but to let everyone know that THIS IS ALL OKAY.

Last week it was R U OK Day. This is a great concept but a lot of people seem to miss the point and it becomes a constant reminder of how little most people know about mental illness. While I don’t want to go on a massive rant about how it’s not that hard to educate yourself on what to do/say (heck, the RUOK website had a really useful and simple guide to that), I will say simply this – it is no use to post a #ruok to your social media feeds and expect that to do anything. You have to A) care every goddamn day of your life and B) be prepared for those closest to you to say at any time in their life “I’m not okay”.  This year I have gotten a lot better at saying to the people I am closest to “I’m not okay. I need your help, here is what you can do”. It has taken me years of psychotherapy, five separate hospitalizations and ongoing support from my close friends and family to get me to this point. It is still a difficult thing to say. But I can say it. And no matter how far I still have to go in my recovery, I am proud of that.

On R U OK Day this year, I realized it is liberating to admit that you are not okay. It means other people who are not okay approach you and say “I’m not okay either”. It means people who you rarely speak to say “I admire you for being so open about your struggles, because they are my struggles too”. It is okay to say you’re not okay, and by saying I wasn’t okay, I gave a few other people a voice to say “same here”.  This, to me, is what sad grrrls club is all about. This is why I started a movement for people who want to sing about how they feel. This is why I want to tell everyone it’s okay to be angry, sad, scared, anxious, mentally ill, physically ill, be yourself and be honest about that because it can, and often does, work out well for you. This has not really been about my clothes that much. I think Jenny won’t mind (I don't - Jen). RMC.