Mental Illness Awareness Week

October 7-13 is National Mental Illness Awareness Week. It was created in 1990 by an act of Congress to raise awareness that mental illness is real, not just "an excuse for people who are too weak to take responsibility for their own problems", or any of the other countless dismissals we've all heard.

1 in 4 adults will experience some kind of mental health disorder in any given year. These can range from a single episode of depression to chronic conditions that can require medication and/or hospitalization.

The fact is, you know somebody with a mental illness. I know you do. Because if you read this blog, you likely know me, and I have a mental illness. I have dealt with chronic depression and anxiety my entire life, but I didn't acknowledge it or deal with it in a serious way until after I graduated college.

My hesitancy to do anything about a problem that I knew in the back of my mind that I had for a very long time came from a lack of awareness. I had been told that I could simply decide to get over my feelings and that psychiatric medication was something that doctors peddled to make money.

I'm a pretty stubborn and determined person. If I make up my mind to do something, I'm going to do it. For a long time I honestly believed that there was some kind of flaw in my character that prevented me from being able to "just get over it" and be a normal, happy person like everyone else seemed to be.

I only had the strength to seek help because of friends who gave me permission to admit that I couldn't deal with this on my own and assured me that it was not a sign of weakness.

I share this because I hope that, in some small way, I can fight back against the stigma that surrounds mental illness in our society. Some people view you with a suspicion if you have a mental illness in a way they would not if you have cancer, both of which are medical conditions completely outside of your control. Insurance companies do not cover mental health medications in the same way they do prescriptions for other chronic conditions.

You can be discriminated against when applying for a job if you disclose that you have a mental illness. If you had type 1 diabetes and were denied a job because of it, you would file a massive lawsuit. Even though mental illness is just as real and treatable as diabetes, it is treated differently. We have a long way to go as a society.

If you think that you or someone you know might be suffering from a mental illness, go to the National Alliance for Mental Illness' (NAMI) website. There is lots of great information and resources to help you decide how to proceed.

Please, please don't be afraid to ask for help. It's OK to admit you can't handle this on your own. I took that hard first step, and my life is immeasurably better for it. Yours will be, too.

Mad Men, Sad Men

I recently read a great profile of Mad Men's Jon Hamm in The Guardian, where (in stark contrast to Don Draper) he talks a lot about some formative, painful experiences early in life, including struggles with clinical depression for which he took medication.

Since I'm not a regular reader of The Guardian, I became aware of it through references in several other media outlets. An article on CNN referencing the Guardian profile all expressed surprise at Hamm's depression, since he plays such a "dapper, suave" character on TV.

I'm not sure if this writer has actually watched Mad Men, but it seems pretty obvious to me from the show that Hamm has a very deep understanding of the insecurity and self-loathing that people who suffer from clinical depression are able to successfully hide behind a confident exterior. Hamm is not Don Draper, but he clearly knows that man very well. (He says that the character is based, in part, on his father)

I've like Jon Hamm ever since I saw him host SNL. I was already a fan of Man Men, but I gained a tremendous amount of respect for him as a person when he was willing to make jokes about the very thing that made him famous, never mind demonstrating his range as an actor. He doesn't take himself too seriously, which enables him to be so good at what he does.

I hope that Jon Hamm's openness about his struggles help clear away the stigma associated with mental illness. It takes a lot of courage to admit that you need help, and doing so does not make you weak or less manly. One of the best decisions I ever made was to admit I had a problem I couldn't control, ask for help and to allow others to help me get better.

Hamm's comments on anti-depressant medication are helpful, too: "And honestly? Antidepressants help! If you can change your brain chemistry enough to think: 'I want to get up in the morning; I don't want to sleep until four in the afternoon. I want to get up and go do my (stuff) and go to work and…' Reset the auto-meter, kick-start the engine!" Anti-depressants don't change your personality. They take the edge off enough so you can talk yourself through the low moments, so you can will yourself to get out of bed and go live your life.

Jon Hamm doesn't need to become the national spokesman for NAMI or anything, but I do hope that he continues to speak up about issues of mental illness. Depression can be such a crippling condition because you believe that you're all alone, and seeing someone else openly talk about how they've struggled and made it through reminds you that's not true.

If you're feeling depressed and alone, and you think that it will never get better, listen to a handsome actor or a goofy blogger: you're not alone. Talk to a counselor or a doctor. There are brighter days ahead.

Silent No More

A friend shared this USA Today article recently, and it gives voice to a problem that most people acknowledge on a certain level, but few people really understand. The problem is that being a pastor is a stressful, lonely job, and studies show that most pastors a very unhappy.

The article points out that pastors themselves share some measure of blame for this. The types of personalities drawn to local church ministry are generally people pleasers (guilty as charged), but the reality of leadership is not only that you can't make everyone happy, but real leaders often have to do things they know will make others angry because it is for the greater good.

Many pastors also set themselves up for failure by implying (sometimes in not so subtle ways) that they consistently embody the high ideals they encourage their community to live out. When Ted Haggard was forced out of his church in 2007, I wrote a post about how both pastor and congregation play into the myth of the perfect person, the super-hero pastor, and that the pressure will become overwhelming and the consequences will be disastrous.

This isn't just an abstract issue for me. I've been very open about my struggles with depression and anxiety, both in the congregations I've served and here in the blogosphere. And many of the things I've experienced in ministry have made my mental health struggles worse. The very fact that I've shared these struggles has had negative consequences on more than one occasion. So while I've never been suicidal like some of the pastors mentioned in the USA Today article, I understand what it's like to feel lonely, and even on occasion hopeless as a pastor.

One problem is that most pastors don't have very many "safe spaces" where they can be open and honest about their struggles. Pastors generally work more than 40 hours a week, much of that time spent with people in their congregations, but rarely are those people a safe space for a pastor. Sadly, most pastors can't feel safe with other clergy, either. Often times we're too afraid of shattering people's illusions that we're perfect, or we know that someone will see a point of weakness and use it against us.

Sadly, most pastors are either too proud or too scared to seek out professional help, assuming that if they just prayed or read their Bible more everything would be OK. So we become trapped in a self destructive cycle that everyone sees, but no one wants to talk about. But it's only a matter of time before the elephant in the room charges and people get hurt.

(For anyone in the Middle Tennessee area, I recommend the Pastoral Counseling Centers of Tennessee. I've seen the same counselor there for the last six years and the benefit has been immeasurable.)

If you're a pastor, please take a risk and speak up. Name your fears and your struggles. Sure, you run the risk of upsetting someone or giving a dysfunctional person some ammo against you, but you might also be surprised at who else might be suffering in silence, and at how your example may encourage and empower them.

If you have a pastor, step back and take a look at how you and your congregation treat them. Are your expectations unrealistic? Is your pastor setting him or herself up for failure by letting you expect too much of them? Ask yourself this question: do I pray for my pastor? Trust me, they need it.

Naming our struggles won't solve them, of course. There will always be difficult people and situations. But if more people realize that pastors are people too, including (maybe especially) pastors themselves, we'll all be a whole lot better off.