Confronting the Stigma of Mental Health
When contemplating how to address the stigma of mental health, I believe that the best way is to honestly and openly speak about our own experiences. This is not always a comfortable subject to discuss, but necessary if the walls of mental health that imprison so many are to be chipped away.
Credentials
I am an Associate Clinical Social Worker. I got my Bachelor’s degree in social work from California State University in Los Angeles in 2018. I worked for two years with young adults with developmental and intellectual disabilities. I got my master’s degree in 2020 and for the last year, I have been working at a residential treatment facility for people living with severe mental health illnesses. The vast majority of my clients have schizophrenia or some form of psychosis.
I have also struggled with my own mental health issues since adolescence. I experience brutal anxiety and crippling panic attacks. Going through my own journey of healing has assisted me in practicing empathy towards my clients, but more importantly, it has helped me to connect with them on a human level. I have been on the inside of the mental health care system as a professional, as well as a patient and I have witnessed first-hand how people dealing with mental health issues are treated in our society. Of course, you do not need a degree to confront the stigma of mental health. All you have to do is be willing to tell your story. I would like to share my experience of attending college while desperately trying to manage my mental health.
Santa Monica Community College
I should have known from the start that my college experience was going to be a volatile roller coaster ride. When I was contemplating going back to college in my late thirties I decided to go for a casual visit to SMC. I lived close to the school so I rode my bike there. As I was locking up my bike a wave of panic kicked me in the gut like a mad colt. I began to hyperventilate, I got lightheaded and then I vomited. This was my first reaction to a college campus and this was just a visit.
I was under the naïve impression that going back to school would provide me a sense of direction, boost my self-esteem, and actually reduce my anxiety. It may have accomplished the first part, but it had the polar opposite effect on the last two. I discovered early on that I had terrible test anxiety. I could not get through a test without having a panic attack. It was so bad that on multiple occasions an ambulance had to be called because I could not breathe. I had always grappled with anxiety but going back to school and taking tests exacerbated it to a level that was simply intolerable.
I registered with The Students with Disabilities Office. My counselor was a kind, well-intended woman who guided me through my junior college experience. The tests were excruciating for me. I was allotted certain accommodations such as extra time on my tests, as well as not having to take the test in the classroom. The one request I had was not to take a test in a room by myself. There was a large room where all the students with a variety of disabilities would take their tests and that’s where I took my tests until one of my professors insisted that I take my final in class. I vehemently advocated not to take the test in the classroom.
The reason I didn’t want to take the test in the class was that I was unable to contain my anxiety. It would start with my leg shaking, then I would repetitively rub my forehead with my finger, the shaking escalated to the rest of my body and I would begin to hyperventilate. I was extremely self-conscious about all this and detested the thought of having to take a test in a classroom. I tried everything to assist me in getting over my phobia of taking tests. I practiced meditation, did yoga, acupuncture, exercised, saw therapists, doctors, took medications, but nothing seemed to put a dent in my irrational fear of taking tests.
After all my protests the professor won out and I was forced to take the test in the classroom. As I was taking the test I began to have a panic attack. I was doing my best to hold it together but I was struggling. The professor noticed and came over to me. He asked me if I was alright and I replied that I wasn’t. Then the professor made a huge mistake, he asked me to move into a room next door by myself to finish the test. When I went into the room I panicked, I had a full-blown anxiety attack. A professor and student from another classroom entered the room to see what was happening. When I saw them I got up and ran out of the room and out of the building. As I was running away I fell off a ledge and tore my ACL. I was unable to walk for weeks. To this day I still have trouble walking due to pain in both my knees from that fall.
Cal State LA
I transferred from SMC to Cal State LA in the fall of 2016. The first thing I did was register with their Office for Students with Disabilities. I met with my counselor before the semester even started. When I informed him of what I was experiencing at SMC regarding my anxiety around test-taking he gave me this perplexing stare and said;
Why in God’s name would you put yourself through that?
I replied that I did not have many options and that I started this and had to finish. Then he said something to me that I still remember to this day, he said;
You should quit school and go learn to code computers.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am technologically inept and would never suggest such an idiotic thing. I went to the head of the department and requested a new counselor.
My new counselor seemed more empathetic towards my plight. I received the same accommodations as I did at SMC. I emphasized to my counselor that I could not take a test in a room by myself. I explained what had happened to me last time and told her about tearing my ACL. I was assured by my counselor that I would not be in a room alone. When I went to take the first test I was led to a small room to sit in by myself. I just shook my head, took a deep breath, and hoped for the best.
For whatever reason, I felt my disability was never taken seriously at Cal State LA. Even though I reiterated to my counselor that it was not safe for me to take a test in a room by myself, I was made to take tests in rooms alone many times. It got to the point where I just gave up trying. People were either not listening to me or didn’t care.
Grad School
I had the displeasure of returning to Cal State LA for my Master’s Degree. Not because I wanted to but despite having straight A’s and a perfect GPA, Cal State LA was the only school in Southern California that accepted me. I hoped that my experience in grad school would be better than in undergrad. I was in an accelerated program, which meant that I received my degree in ten months. The pace was intense and the number of assignments was relentless.
One of the courses I had to take in grad school was my thesis class. This class taught us the formula for how to write a master's level thesis. My original idea for a thesis topic was rejected, the reason given was that it was too complex a subject to write a thesis on. I wanted to write about the societal stages that lead to genocide. Instead, I settled for writing about trauma and the bio-psycho-social impact of maltreatment in adolescents.
On the first day of my thesis class, my professor, who had a Doctorate-Degree, was giving a talk. She was attempting to reduce many of the students' anxiety about the voracious pace of the program. She encouraged us not to be nervous or anxious about our thesis. She went on to talk about anxiety. She said that anxiety is a state of mind and that it isn’t real. Then she said something that upset me. She said:
People who exhibit signs of anxiety are rude people, it’s just not a nice thing to do.
This obviously made me feel like shit about myself. I was acutely aware that my anxiety had a negative effect on others around me, which was the reason I didn’t take tests in classrooms. Not only was I personally offended but my entire thesis was now out the window because I had a professor who was denying that anxiety even existed and part of my thesis was based on the correlation between maltreatment and anxiety.
There was no way I was going to have this professor guide me through my thesis. I went to the head of the grad program and requested a new professor. I was told that I would not be able to change professors. I informed the head of the program that I was fully prepared to drop out of school. In the end, they gave me a different professor and I was able to get my MSW.
Conclusion
It took me nine years to get my master’s degree. The entire time I was in school I could never get a grip of my test anxiety. No matter what therapeutic modality or holistic remedy I tried, it would not reduce my ignominious fear of tests. As I proceeded through the different stages of college I encountered people that simply rejected the notion that my disability was real. I often wonder if I had a physical or developmental disability if I would be dismissed the way I was.
When people are diagnosed with cancer we encourage them, we support them, we raise money, cheer them on as they battle their illness, but when it comes to mental health we expect people to suffer in silence. Let’s say you were to fall off your bike and break your leg, you would naturally go to a doctor, but when it comes to the mind we hide in the shadows. My struggles with my mental health have caused me nothing but shame, embarrassment, humiliation, and an overall feeling of ineptitude. My inability to contain my anxiety has decimated my self-esteem and eroded any confidence I had in myself. It has caused me to ostracize myself from society and the people I love. I spent years in an abnormal pit of despair and isolation. But I was able to put my life back together. Learning to have good insight into my mental health, understanding the cause and reasons my mind and body react to certain triggers. Practicing and mastering the tools to regulate my emotions when the first signs of panic start to overwhelm me. I am in a great place in my life and thriving.
I tell my clients that we are all on a journey of healing. This journey is lifelong, and we are all in different places on this journey. Many times I ponder why we make the road so rough for ourselves. What is it about the mind that when it is wounded we hide the scars? If we do not confront the stigma of mental health we will continue to see societal problems like mass shootings and violent crimes perpetuate throughout our communities.