An Invited blog from the journal Mental Health and Social Inclusion (2042-8308) which queries the conversations that have dominated during the covid-19 pandemic about mental illness

Zeilig, Hannah

UAL Research Online

Hannah	Zeilig		Blog	for	Mental	Health	and	Social	Inclusion			Look 	Who’s 	Ta lk ing 	about 	Menta l 	 I l lness 		For	the	most	part,	I	have	been	confused	by	conversations	about	mental	illness	(or	is	it	mental	health?)	during	the	covid-19	pandemic.	There	has	certainly	been	a	lot	of	conversation.	Ordinarily,	this	would	strike	me	as	positive.	Finally,	we	are	talking	about	the	gritty	reality	of	living	with	mental	distress	-	which	to	my	mind	is	the	only	way	we	can	begin	to	confront	and	then	combat	the	stigma	and	profound	shame	that	afflict	those	of	us	with	severe	mental	illness.		However,	for	the	most	part	the	content	of	these	conversations	has	not	resonated	meaningfully	with	me	or	with	the	many	others	that	I	know,	who	live	with	severe	long-term	and	apparently1	incurable	conditions	such	as	bipolar	or	schizophrenia.	The	discourse	of	mental	health	during	the	pandemic	years	of	2020	and	2021	has	mostly	focused	on	the	stresses	and	anxieties	that	everyone	must	be	struggling	with.	Headlines	have	concentrated	on	how,	for	example,	two	thirds	of	adults	in	the	UK	‘report	feeling	somewhat	or	very	worried	about	the	effect	Covid-19	is	having	on	their	life’2	(well	yeah,	I	get	that).	There	have	consequently	been	large	scale	studies	(at	UCL,	KCL	and	elsewhere	no	doubt)	that	focus	on	the	psychological	and	social	effects	of	covid-19	on	mental	health,	again	for	everyone.	All	sorts	of	media	have	exhorted	us	to	exercise,	meditate,	meet	friends	on-line	to	combat	isolation	and	places	of	work	have	provided	desk	yoga	as	part	of	their	mental	health	and	wellbeing	offer.	As	ever,	this	is	mental	illness	‘lite’.	The	sort	of	mental	health	issues	that	are	discussed	are	relevant	and	recognisable	to	people	who	are	fortunate	enough	to	have	a	‘touch’	of	mental	illness	(or	is	it	health?).	Which	reminds	me	of	the	occasion	when,	following	a	hospitalisation,	a	colleague	empathised	with	me	by	saying	that	she	too	‘had	a	touch	of	the	bipolars’.	She	meant	well	and	I	was	glad	she	said	something,	most	people	can’t,	but	imagine	saying	something	similar	to	someone	with	diabetes.			Nowadays,	it	seems,	everyone	has	experience	of	mental	distress	and	during	the	pandemic	we	were	all	‘in	it’	together,	suddenly	everyone	I	know	had	some	sort	of	mental	health	(or	is	it	illness?).	This	apparent	universality	of	experience	has	not,	unfortunately,	enriched	our	conversations	about	mental	ill-health.	On	the	contrary,	the	discourse	is	mostly	drained	of	substantive	meaning	by	a	relentlessly	upbeat	emphasis	on	what	can	be	‘done’	and	above	all	the	imperative	that	we	as	individuals	should	be	doing	something.		It	is	even	harder	for	those	of	us	who	live	in	the	frozen	tundra	of	depression	and	with	the	interruptions	to	our	lives	brought	about	by	bouts	of	psychosis,	delusions,	paranoia,	what	is	known	as	mania,	those	of	us	who	are	judged	unreliable	and	have	therefore	come	to	see	ourselves	as	unstable;	it	is	even	harder	now	for	us	to	speak	about	our	experiences.	We	know	that	although	yoga	is	okay	-		it	is	expensive	and	meditation	generally	won’t	work	to	calm	our	minds.	Many	of	my	compatriots	have	been	so	isolated	for	so	long	that	it	is	more	a	way	of	life	and	the	pandemic	has	made	little	difference	to	this.	Those	of	us	with	severe	mental	illness	are	sceptical,	for	the	most	part	we	have	tried	every	sort	of	therapy	available	(drugs	and	talking)	and	we	are	also	frightened.	The	world	doesn’t	treat	us	gently	and	we	are	unheard.	Nowadays,	the																																																							1	I	write	apparently	knowingly,	because	there	is	a	body	of	research	that	questions	the	biomedical	assumption	that	mental	illnesses	are	incurable	(see	the	work	of	Joanna	Moncrieff,	recent	studies	from	University	of	Tromso	in	Norway).		2https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/healthandsocialcare/healthandwellbeing/bulletins/coronavirusandthesocialimpactsongreatbritain/5june2020	Hannah	Zeilig		conversation	about	mental	health	(illness?)	has	been	dominated	by	people	who	talk	articulately	about	feeling	a	bit	nervous	about	the	future.			For	these	reasons,	it	is	now	more	important	than	ever	before	to	foreground	the	voices	and	experiences	of	people	who	live	with	long	term	mental	illnesses.	This	has	recently	formed	the	focus	for	work	that	my	colleague	Corinna	Hackmann	and	I	have	been	collaborating	on3.	In	this	study,	I	drew	heavily	on	my	own	experience	and	worked	with	other	experts	by	experience	to	think	about	how	we	might	effectively	support	people	with	pre-existing	mental	health	conditions	during	covid-19	now	and	as	we	slowly	emerge	from	the	worst	ravages	of	this	pandemic.	Despite	the	intense	difficulties	reported	by	many	it	was	also	notable	that	those	we	interviewed	reported	on	their	skills	and	resilience	and	how	these	had	been	helpful	in	coping	with	some	of	the	exigencies	of	the	pandemic.	The	innate	resilience	and	extraordinary	coping	skills	of	those	who	live	with	mental	illness	are	mostly	unappreciated.	Mental	health	services	are	likely	to	be	re-configured	in	the	wake	of	the	pandemic,	the	emphasis	on	remote	delivery	will	probably	persist.	Yet,	to	understand	how	to	effectively	support	people	in	the	future,	service	providers,	researchers	and	clinicians	need	to	ask	the	right	questions	and	listen	carefully	to	answers	that	may	not	be	those	that	were	expected	and	then	act.	This	may	provoke	new	and	more	meaningful	conversation	about	mental	illness	and	health	–	something	that	has	been	needed	for	centuries.																																																																3	Zeilig	et	al	(2020)	Foregrounding	the	perspectives	of	mental	health	service	users	during	the	Covid-19	pandemic.	In	Mental	Health	and	Social	Inclusion.		

Look Who's Talking .... About Mental Illness

https://ualresearchonline.arts.ac.uk/id/eprint/16621/1/Blog%20for%20Mental%20Health%20and%20Social%20Inclusion.pdf

Look Who's Talking .... About Mental Illness

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