Hello you,
Sorry for sending this late and for not writing to you last week.
These past few weeks have been tough for me. I didn’t write last week because I needed the break. If I’m honest, since Covid-19, my mind has been stressed and anxious about everything. May was a special breed of madness. As my second-semester classes ended, I found myself swamped with deadlines. They were work-related, school-related, extracurriculars and other personal projects. I was initially mentally prepared for this phase of the session (prepared to drown, that is). However, I wasn’t ready for the anxiety. The exhausting anxiety that comes with cramming a ton of fiction writing, critical essay writing, presentations, and editing into a short space. When I’m anxious, I don’t sleep well. I chew my nails, my legs vibrate on their own, and I can’t concentrate. I was aware that I could have asked for extensions or taken some time off work, but I decided to power through.
Fortunately for me, May ended, and the storm mostly settled. I’m back to regular programming, reading books (currently Sigrid Nunez’ Salvation City) and taking long walks. I wanted to write to you about my struggle for a while, but I dismissed it, thinking it would be too icky and personal. Then early this week, I saw Twitter conversations about Naomi Osaka, how she said she would not speak with the media during this year’s French Open due to her mental well-being. Reading up on it, I discovered that according to rules, she could only make this call if she was injured or physically unable to appear and could be fined up to $20,000.
On social media, her decision was criticised by some, applauded by others. The criticism overwhelmed me and reminded me that mental illness is not taken as seriously as physical illness.
A few days after I turned in my first assessment essay (the more overwhelming of the two courses I took this semester), I listened to ‘How I Manage My Anxiety’ an episode of Founder’s Journal, by Alex Lieberman, the co-founder of Morning Brew. He spoke about the things that drive his anxiety — work, health and relationship — and how he uses mental stacks (daily habits like exercise, diet, sleep, medication, and nondaily habits like therapy, mindfulness, etc.) to lower his anxiety.
I wanted to hear more broadly about mental health from someone like me, you know — a young, black woman navigating this world and thought you might find it useful too. I spoke to Ray, who is a mental health advocate and reader. She talks to me about her struggles with mental health and books that have helped her cope. Here’s our conversation:
Tell me about your experiences with mental health.
I remember writing about this a few years ago on medium: how I came to realise how important mental health is. Growing up as a girl in Lagos, Nigeria, stigmatisation around ‘wereys’ was prevalent. We were socially conditioned to stay away from them. Even children would deliberately look for their trouble.
The turning point happened when I picked up psychology for my A-levels. In this class, I learned about the human mind, studies conducted on human behaviour, and much more. It was a wild revelation. In 2017, I officially started my mental health advocacy journey.
What did your advocacy teach you about mental health in Nigeria?
Stigma is a big stumbling block. From family members to friends to hospital staff members, it never ends. When I interned at Federal Neuro-Psychiatric Hospital, Yaba, Lagos, I listened to qualified psychiatrists stigmatise mental health. Let that sink in. People who should know better and be better are so mean, uninformed, causing more trauma than fixing. Where are people expected to turn to? People shouldn't be scared to seek mental health support. They shouldn't be worried about talking to their loved ones about their symptoms. Lives are being lost because we choose to be ignorant and unkind.
In addition, there's this misinformation around having a mental health issue and choice. People can't just switch on and off their hallucinations or suicidal thoughts, or insomnia. What they need is nonjudgmental, compassionate counselling and professional help. We need to be kinder to one another.
Speaking of help, how can we normalise therapy?
Therapy is so expensive, and my pessimistic self struggles to see a world where therapy will be ‘normalised’. However, I can see a reality where people choose not to go for therapy because ‘there is nothing wrong’ or ‘my health is not that bad’ and one million other reasons in and around them refusing to acknowledge that they might be mentally ill. This links back to stigma — people are so scared to access help because they are in denial.
We need cheaper counselling options and more accessible options. There's this misconception around therapy that you only need therapy when you’re ‘going crazy’. No. You need therapy just because. The same way you'd go in to do random blood work and check your vitals. Everyone needs therapy.
What are some tips from your personal experiences that you can share on protecting our mental health?
Get adequate sleep: on nights when my insomnia isn't winning the battle, I try to sleep for at least seven hours.
Create ‘me’ time: it's so easy to get lost in the sauce — work, friendships, family, Twitter, life. I’m very selfish about carving time out for myself. Whether this is doing something I enjoy [reading an hour every day] or talking to people I love or watching a weird show on Netflix or just being.
Self-care: I just started this. I've realised that by taking care of me and prioritising me, I've started loving myself more. This includes having a set budget for my needs. Indulging. Splurging on my wants and taking myself out. I also self-reflect a lot, especially when I have mini anxiety attacks. I try to objectively break down what I think the trigger might be, try to figure out what went wrong and how to prevent it from happening again.
Celebrate little wins: I make sure to highlight and celebrate my little wins — things society has conditioned me to not take note of. Being aware of my inadequacies, I recognise them as victories. Examples include getting out of bed on tough mornings, finally sending that two-line email after spending hours blank, finally getting the strength to return that call of a loved one, etc. I celebrate in different ways: buying a new book, getting chocolates, sleeping earlier, or sometimes, just words of affirmation: ‘Well done, Ray, I see you and appreciate you.’
You’ve mentioned books a few times. How do you think literature can help create more awareness about mental health issues?
For readers, books are our learning ground. We learn so much and pick up so much. I remember when I first read Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson (a memoir where the author explores her lifelong battle with mental illness), I recommended it to everyone. I was so happy. Perspectives like that are critical. Books around mental health can help people unlearn and learn, but importantly, those books are good representations. If you want to read good books on mental health and how mental illnesses affect people's everyday lives, here are my recommendations:
Trigger warning: All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven contains sensitive content that may be triggering for some readers.
How do you feel about recent conversations about mental health on social media?
Very washed down. I'm glad we’re having more conversations but also concerned they aren’t nuanced, layered or holistic enough. There are now many ‘things to do when your friend is suicidal’ - okay, cute, but people are different and have different needs. Why are we not adding that layer to it, so people know to be flexible? The downside to this is that tons of people now feel like mental health experts experiment with real people's lives. Organisations with (albeit good intentions) are invited to the table without proper fact-checking. There’s an unsaid expectation for mental health sufferers to be grateful for the services, the ‘wokeness’, the ‘conversations’. But most of it is just empty.
I hope we keep having these conversations but with better context. And that we demand better from those posing to have good intentions. People need to know that mental health disorders aren’t just one thing. We need to be kinder with our teaching (I'm on this table as well, to be honest, and I'm learning to be more patient).
In terms of layers, we need more conversations on the intersection between religion and mental health, gender and mental health, poverty, and mental health (care and treatment usually cost). Nuance. Layers. Depth. Context. Don't do gbajensimi conversations. Hear people.
I’m curious about how mental health affects different layers of identity.
As a Nigerian woman, there are so many aspects of the culture that puts me in a box. So many things that one would be expected to do to protect one's mental health are considered ‘foreign’. Attempting to navigate sexism, racism, subtle Islamophobia with a mental illness is daunting.
When I got diagnosed, most of my family members didn't get it. Some even mocked it — ‘We don't do that over here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We Nigerians don't use antidepressants.’
‘My Jesus won't allow you to have depression. Stop saying rubbish.’
It's hard trying to breathe and still having to make your illness palatable to those that supposedly care about you. Now, I just pick and choose what conversations to engage in. I choose my battles carefully. I respectfully educate and admonish. I try to create safe spaces, especially as a visible Muslim woman. Protecting one's mental health should be the most selfish goal one should have. If you aren’t prioritising yourself and your health, then who will?
I hope you find this newsletter useful. Sending you lots of hugs and sunshine. Errors in this newsletter are my fault alone (😢).Please share and comment. See you next week! ❤
Thank you Ope. Thank you🥺
Ope, my eyes got misty while reading this. Makes me want to do 2 things - (1) Hug you (2) Keep powering through, like you. Thank you champ :)