Thinking out of the cotton box

To be human

Nothing gives you the wings to push for change as poignantly being on the receiving end of a difficult lived experience. I believe we Millennials call this becoming ‘woke’.

It can be a powerful force for good. For instance, Sheryl Sandberg’s own experience, first as a woman recounted in ‘Lean In’, then as a grieving woman in ‘Option B’, is an enduring source of inspiration and highlights the importance of transcending our challenges and using the takeaways to create a ripple of positive change. It also accomplishes a taboo task: to show the reality of the pain of a powerfully human experience, the loss of a loved one. All too often, human experiences such as this - bereavement, the end of a relationship, the challenge of dealing with everyday life - are minimised, sanitised, hushed and brushed away under a false sense of ‘decorum’.

There is one experience which is lived quietly, silently, alone by over 450 million people - and which is still struggling to find its way to the light. It is buried in the dark recesses of our fears of stigmatisation and lost in the limbo of vague policies thereon.

Hush hush

I am talking about mental health issues.

My own experience with these issues is pushing me to write this article. Now in the non-linear process of recovery from what I consider a ‘blackout’ year in 2017, where I struggled to get out of bed, swatted dark and borderline suicidal thoughts away, medicated heavily unbeknownst to my family and friends, I am taking a good, hard look at the impact that the ‘Black Dog’ had on my productivity, but more importantly, how poorly I fared in a system which simply wasn’t designed to accommodate my depression. Worse, this system was not designed to accommodate the unique needs of Millennials, or indeed, humans who, by virtue of our humanity, are designed to experience a whole spectrum of emotions.

Millennials and their avocadoes

Millennials have good reason to be depressed, anxious, and unwell. Coming of age against the backdrop of economic uncertainty, lowered life chances, environmental degradation and institutionalised inequality, it is staggering, but perhaps not surprising, that suicide is the second leading cause of death in the 15-29 demographic.

Millennials are grappling with a world which is incredibly complex; one where boundaries between right and wrong are blurred. A few months ago, a LinkedIn study argued that the feeling of panic experienced by many Millennials is indeed a ‘quarter life crisis’. Predictably, older generations dismissed the sentiment as ‘entitlement’, ‘seeking attention’ and worse, ‘laziness’.

The largely negative reaction from older generations highlighted the bigger issue: our systems aren’t built, prepped or geared to address the wave of mental health challenges. And this is costing us - the economy - a lot.

Where's my ramp?

Let’s compare the situation with a physical disability. Whilst acknowledging that a lot leaves to be desired in addressing the infrastructure required, there is a growing awareness of the need for basic things such as ramps or parking spots. Where are the metaphorical ramps for those with mental disabilities?

The truth is that the social or physical infrastructure hasn’t been designed yet: it is still a difficult conversation to have and unhelpful non-sequiturs abound - ranging from ‘it’s a ploy to worm out of work’ or ‘people will abuse the system’ or ‘don’t tell anyone, you will lose your reputation’. Anyone who has faced depression (or other mental health issues) can attest to the difficulty of being productive. Focusing, meeting deadlines, carrying meetings - all of these require Herculean effort. We have yet to calculate the cost and impact of ‘presenteeism’: when you are present in body, but not in mind. It is therefore unsurprising that, as early as in 2011, a joint study by the World Economic Forum and Harvard University found that mental health could cost the economy more than $16 trillion by 2020: a cost exceeding the losses from cardiovascular diseases and cancer put together.

Over the past few years, various high-profile figures have stepped up to talk about mental health, ranging from J.K. Rowling to the young British Royals, to help break the stigma. These bold messages break the silence about the stark facts; the World Health Organisation shows that depression alone affects 1 in 4 people and this year, over 800 000 people will take their own lives. Representation of mental health on social media, such as Matthew Johnstone’s ‘Black Dog’ has helped articulate some of the abstractions around the issue.

Walking the talk

However, the growing awareness of mental health issues has yet to translate into concrete actions - especially in developing countries where stigmatisation persists and role models are less rare. As of now, the World Health Organisation (WHO) reports that 139 countries have a policy or plan, and 110 countries have a law, directed towards mental health issues, although in many of these countries, these policies and laws are out of date or yet to be aligned with international human rights instruments. On top of it, these figures do not translate to adequate resources being put in place to tackle mental health. Despite clear gains in productivity to be made by addressing mental health meaningfully, only 2% of the health budget per capita is devoted to mental health. In many developing countries, funds devoted to mental health go towards running ‘asylums’ or are subsumed in broader health or disability budget lines. Less than 30% of people with severe mental health disorders receive adequate treatment in developing countries.

In Mauritius, I struggled to find comprehensive figures about mental health. If anything, this hinted at an absence of coherent leadership on mental health. Organisations echo policies at national level - or lack thereof. But I believe that they can be powerful agents for change as well. It is clear that organisations could be better designed to address mental disabilities.

Can we try?

They could start doing so by:

Ensuring that a sound health and safety policy is in place, which covers both the physical and mental aspects of health (beyond occupational ‘stress’);
Reducing barriers to access to therapy and psychological support through in-house services or counselling networks;
Creating a supportive environment by destigmatising mental health issues, reviewing administrative and human resource rules to ensure people feel safe in handling such matters;
Reducing career uncertainty and inequalities and focusing on personal growth in all its aspects: a career path that includes prospects for promotion and financial security, but also opportunities to expand one’s creative, emotional and spiritual sides.

To conclude, there is nothing romantic or glamorous about mental illness. It is manifested in the chronic paralysis of thought and action; the ignominy of missed deadlines, sideways looks in the corridors and attempts at explaining the plummeting quality of work without mentioning the ‘illness’ word; it is found in the contours of the letters asking for justifications for requests for time off and etched in the ability to look at yourself in the mirror and see, not the person who was at the top of the game but a puffy-eyed, lank-haired drab raccoon whose biggest achievement is to get out of bed and get dressed.

The sea is both the wave and the stillness

The movements about raising awareness, promoting self-care and self-love and expressing vulnerability are beautiful and necessary but not enough. Far from enough. We need bold policies and a willingness to rethink how we view the human in the workplace: not just another cog in the system, but a whole sentient being whose highs and lows are equally valued.