When I was in my teens and early 20s, I experienced long periods of deep depression which led to numerous suicide attempts, traumatic sectioning under the mental health act, hospitalisations and psychosis.
I was a classic revolving-door client who had small periods of improvement peppered over a time of extreme emotional turmoil and pain. There is no easy way to describe to people the crushing depths of despair that come with complete hopelessness and loss of trust in your own mind. Those who have been there will know.
I had some bad experiences of mental health care: the nurse asleep on my one-to-one observations while I was in an acutely suicidal phase; the bruising from unconventional restraint; the dismissive comments from those who knew nothing of my personal history, saying that I ought to see “real suffering”; the misinformation recorded in my medical notes.
I also met some wonderfully compassionate members of staff and worked with a clinical psychologist who helped me frame my experiences of abuse in a different way. I was also lucky to have close friends and some family who saw somebody beyond the dark and disturbed young person I thought I was.
Fast-forward over a decade and I feel lucky to be alive – although I know there is more than luck to it. I feel even luckier to be well, content and happy – and working as a clinical psychologist for the same NHS that helped to save my life.
However, a cloud hangs over my professional life. I was worried early on in my clinical career that people would not see past my extensive mental health history, so I made the decision that I would not share this. I have no obligation to share my personal history with colleagues.
Like many people, I always tell occupational health that I am well, and have plans for if I am not. I have engaged in my own personal therapy and supervision to ensure my shadows do not colour my professional judgment or the interventions I offer to clients any more than is acceptable or inevitable. I have heard and seen my co-workers within the mental health service joke about and belittle fellow colleagues who are brave enough to share their struggles with mental wellbeing.
An evaluation of the Time to Change campaign from 2008-2011, which is designed to tackle stigma, showed that average levels of experienced discrimination fell during the campaign. However, discrimination from health professionals remained at the same level. This is a worrying finding and does not allay my fears that I would be perceived in a different, more negative light if my history were known more widely.
I feel that my silence serves me well on several levels – I am a private person and the content of my years of illness and the reasons for it are very personal and there is a fear that in sharing my vulnerabilities I will become more vulnerable.
Although I believe that I protect myself in my silence I also feel this serves to perpetuate the stigma surrounding mental health. I am a supporter and advocate of co-production and service user involvement in mental health services and there is a part of me who wants to be more transparent about my history. In her exploration of past hurts and therapeutic talent, Barbara Williams describes this as creating a culture of collective avoidance due to fear of judgment.
Our experiences shape our essence and it’s impossible to know if I would have gone into the same line of work had I not experienced the trauma and mental ill-health I have. I certainly feel my experiences help me as a clinician. I have become a more thoughtful and reflective person. I know myself and what makes me tick. I can laugh at myself. I give myself time and space when I need to re-group and recharge – essential in preventing burnout and enabling me to focus on my work.
I feel more self-compassion which means I can be more compassionate towards others. I don’t think you have to experience these things to be a good clinician, but for me they have helped. Most importantly, I know that things can get better. I can cling to this hope even when my clients cannot. My colleagues don’t need to know why.
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