Stigma

I had a job interview Monday.

I didn't get it.

While I'm disappointed -- it's the first interview I've landed after sending out about 30 resumes -- I'm not looking for pity. I'll pick myself up and move on.

(For those of you who don't know, I'm now unemployed for the first time in 16 years, having resigned recently from my previous employer.)

However, the interview itself lead me to think about a few things regarding my mental illness.

As happy as I am that former Olympian Clara Hughes is out there banging the drum to reduce the stigma around mental illness, I've got to think disclosing your condition when you're, well, Clara Hughes, elicits a much different reaction than when you're, say, me.

There are some facts about me that are very public, some that were made public by myself, some that were made by others.

Regardless of how they were made public, they're out there.

And the number one fact is...I have a mental illness, namely recurrent major depressive disorder. I've had it for as long as I can remember and I will have it the rest of my life. There is no cure.

For most of my life, I was ashamed of my condition and did the best I could to hide it (never very successfully I might add). I hated who I was and I surely didn't want to let anyone see the true me, the one who didn't care if he lived or died many days, who wished for death on the really bad ones.

I could get by in polite society by putting on a brave face at work and in public and only take the mask off when I got home.

However, there came a time at my two previous jobs where my illness was starting to impact my work and it was noticed by my managers.

In both instances I disclosed my illness to try to help them understand why I was acting the way I was.

In both instances it made things worse.

I was told by one manager not to use my depression "as a crutch."

I was asked by another -- after I had come back after some time off -- how I could assure them I wouldn't relapse.

I asked him if he would ask a cancer survivor that question.

He didn't answer.

Which brings me back to my interview. It was made public in an ongoing court case in which I was tangentially involved that I was off work on long-term disability. It's a matter of public record and if you google me, it comes up on the first page of search results.

While I know a prospective employer can't ask you why you were on disability, they are surely going to wonder why I was and why I didn't return to my employer when I recovered enough to return to work.

And this is where the stigma associated with mental illness rears its vicious head.

If I said I was diagnosed with cancer, underwent treatment, beat it and was looking to get back to work, I would -- more than likely -- be praised for my heroic fight and recovery. I doubt it would be held against me (and would you really want to work anywhere where it was?)

Let's now substitute "cancer" with "major depressive disorder." Given my experiences with disclosing my condition, I wouldn't hold out hope on a positive outcome. 

For some reason, most people don't want to see the brain as an organ, no different from a pancreas or a heart. It can become ill just like any other organ, but most people treat that illness differently from, say, diabetes or heart disease.

You may ask, "Why not just hide it if it's going to hurt your chances?"

Two reasons.

First, it's a matter of public record. If I don't address it and someone in HR did a google search on me, it would look like I was hiding it.

The second reason is far more important.

For too long I lived with the crippling shame of suffering a mental illness, afraid people would think I was unstable, dangerous, crazy.

For too long I kept my condition secret from all but those closest to me.

Never again.

I have a mental illness.

If someone can't accept that then that's someone I don't want in my life.

I am who I am.

And, after 42 long years, I can finally say that's someone I don't hate any more.