Bear with me. This is a longer than usual post.
Last week I promised to shed more light on the conversation I had with my friend, Danny, on Time to Talk Day. Well, here it is.
Danny has been one of my closest friends for over a decade and has supported me through some of my toughest times. He has seen me at (arguably) my worst and, hopefully, now getting close to my best. Despite our solid friendship, there’s no denying that initially the conversation was a little difficult. We’re not the sort of friends who spend hours catching up on the phone so this was new to us. Acknowledging the awkwardness of this situation actually turned out to be a great way to break the ice and start the conversation, however.
Danny opened our conversation telling me that he didn’t think he had personally struggled with his own mental health, but knew many people who had – something we hear all too often. This surprised me given the challenges I had seen him face in life.
We met back in 2007 while at University on a course with about 30 women and only 3 guys. After the first year, 3 guys became 2 and Danny and I formed a much closer friendship. What I hadn’t realised until speaking to Danny about this was how much it meant to him to have a male friend in his life. Having not been particularly “laddish” growing up, Danny found that it was harder to relate to guys than girls. As such most of his friends growing up were girls. Heading to university offered a fresh start but immediately the same situation presented itself when myself and the only other guy on the course bonded over football. Interesting to think how something that, in my life, has been a fantastic subject for bringing people together could be so alienating to others.
Growing up, particularly in his latter school years, Danny was bullied for being gay. He didn’t identify as gay at the time, although he did say he probably knew he was even before starting university. This was something he had struggled with and led to an internal battle. Although he was comfortable with who he was, he didn’t want to be defined or judged by this single aspect of his life. He didn’t want to be told he was gay just because he didn’t partake in the usual laddish activities. As a result he tried to hide this part of himself away from people, rather than embracing the person he was. People being surprised to find out he was gay felt like a victory in some senses. This continued throughout university. Hindsight being 20:20, this is one of the things Danny wishes he had done differently, feeling he could have made so much more of the opportunities university offered him.
On leaving university, Danny moved back home to a small, predominantly straight, white, middle class town. Back in his old stomping grounds, he was facing the same problems, in the same social circles. This, combined with the loss of independence he felt in moving home from university, led to Danny becoming unhappy and demotivated. He took the approach many of us have taken to get through our problems and ignored them, diverting his attention to drinking and partying.
Throughout this period of his life, however, no one challenged Danny on his behaviour, lack of motivation or drinking. Maybe they didn’t recognise the signs, just seeing him as young and having fun. Or maybe they didn’t feel confident in talking about mental health. Either way, nothing changed until Danny made the decision to move away from the area and start again. In the years that followed, a number of Danny’s family and friends commented on how depressed and demotivated he was in his time back at home. Naturally, this opened up our conversation to discuss why some behaviours go unchallenged even if people see them as a cause for concern. Whether it’s challenging a friend on their increasingly self-destructive behaviour, or challenging someone on their antiquated views of equality there seems to be a common problem of apathy. It’s certainly not an easy thing to do and it’s something both Danny and I have been guilty of in our friendship – particularly at university.
My university days were enjoyable, although somewhat wayward. There were a number of issues (I’ll elaborate on these in posts to come) I was struggling with and I wasn’t getting help. Like Danny, I chose to ignore these issues and divert my efforts in to “enjoying” myself. Essentially this meant partying and playing the fool.
Danny recounted a night from our university days that still sat with him. The night I had slipped and damaged my knee further, walking off after a less than enjoyable night out. For hours he sat with me, encouraging me to head to hospital until I finally did in the early hours of the morning. At that point Danny knew I was struggling with more than just torn ligaments. He could see I was spiralling, but didn’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. I had become known as a bit of a joker who wasn’t afraid to take a few risks. As a result, a lot of people (who had known me for much longer) would understandably brush off the stupid things I did as either part of who I was or just the actions of a university student.
Being a concerned friend in a situation like this is difficult for a number of reasons. First there’s the worry you go through, seeing your friend struggling and in pain. Then there’s the internal debate as to whether or not you should say something. No one else is – maybe you’re just over thinking things? And then there’s the potential risk to your friendship if you are seen to be overly critical. You know that you can’t fix someone. You can’t enforce change. They need to want to help themselves so maybe it is safer you just wait for them to come to you.
So how on earth do you approach a situation like that? I don’t think there is one single, straight forward answer. People are individuals - there is no one size fits all. I’d like to think if I was in a situation like this now, however, I would have the courage to speak to my friend and let them know I was worried. Sure, there’s a chance it might not be well received, but there’s also a chance it could save a life.
9 years on from university, Danny’s life is very different. He lives and works in London,
which has been a liberating experience, offering him the diversity he craved and more acceptance than he had experienced in the small towns he lived in previously. He now trains and develops teachers, covering issues such as mental health, equality and diversity - areas Danny has taken the lead on at work. Moving forward he wants to volunteer to help support people and prevent them going through what he had to. He tells me “you can reflect on things, but you have to do something different tomorrow so you’ve learnt from it”. I couldn’t agree more.
The Danny I speak with today is a far cry from the long haired, wavy-arm dancing, party-animal of yester year. He is down to earth, articulate and professional. It’s almost hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t this well-adjusted. I ask him if these issues still affect him. The answer? Very much so. Even more so now with his increased awareness. Danny is quick to tell me that this doesn’t have to be a bad thing however. Over the years, through conscious efforts to educate himself in these areas, Danny has broadened his horizons. Understanding the issues was the first step in dealing with them.
Every time Danny meets new people he still has to deal with the coming out all over again, with no guarantees he will be accepted. Although comfortable with who he is, he still has that nagging question of if people can tell he is gay. But things are different now. No, Danny doesn’t want to be defined by a single characteristic, but he no longer places so much importance on what others think. He (and I for that matter) is proud of the person he has become.
Although rarely the direct victim of homophobic abuse, Danny still has to deal with prejudices on a day to day basis, even within the LGBT community. He still gets looks when out and about with his husband. He still hears whispers and insults. He reads about the increasing number of vile and vicious hate crimes being reported. All things that have the potential to negatively affect his mental health and emotional wellbeing. Danny’s view is clear, however. You can’t let this beat you. Things can happen to anyone and everyone, but we still have to live our lives.
One thing that becomes incredibly clear through our conversation is the impact of little day to day things. As a society we’ve come a long way in trying to be more inclusive and open minded, but there’s still so much more to be done. Take our choice of language, for example. How often have you heard someone refer to a bad situation as ‘mental’? How often do you hear people saying that they’re ‘so OCD’ because they are neat and tidy? How many times have you heard someone use ‘gay’ or ‘pyscho’ as an insult? These are all day-to-day phrases that unintentionally make light of serious issues such as mental health, equality and diversity.
Challenging this language and behaviour will never be easy. It might not always be possible. Sometimes we risk assess a situation and opt to walk away, but it can leave you with an uneasy feeling. By avoiding confrontation, are we not just giving license to people to say what they want, no matter how hurtful? We don’t have to enter in to violent confrontations or shouting matches, and I am by no means advocating that. What we can do is change the way we speak about these issues, and challenge those who continue to speak in this way. We can educate those we work, socialise and live with on these issues. We can influence others and help create positive change.
Our conversation starts to naturally wind down. In a contrast to where we started, Danny reflects back on his statement he opened with - that he hasn’t had problems with his own mental health. He acknowledges that he might have been wrong here. Being gay and having had to deal with the judgement of others has most definitely had an impact on him both at the time and now.
For a number of reasons both Danny and I have struggled to share our own experiences in the past when promoting an inclusive, accepting and supportive agenda. Something we have started to change with this conversation. Embarrassment, fear of judgement, and the belief that our problems are not significant enough for us to talk about all feature on our list of reasons for holding back. Maybe that goes back to the times we grew up in where “proper” mental health problems were the intense, diagnosable, often medicated conditions – your schizophrenia and such – or at least that’s how it seemed. Sadly, they were considered a sign of weakness. While the severity and intensity of these issues may differ, problems affect people in different ways. What might seem minor for one person could be life changing for another – it doesn’t make them weak.
So what have we both taken from this conversation? Everyone has mental health. People struggle with different aspects of this at different times in their life – just like physical health. We all have a duty to look after each other and educate people on how to approach these issues (mental health, and equality and diversity). We need to approach them with an open mind and a willingness to learn. If someone uses a term that upsets you, rather than berating them, work with them and educate them so they don’t make the same mistake again. If you upset someone with your choice of words, don’t get defensive and label them a ‘snowflake’ for being offended. Try to understand why it offended them and change the way you approach these situations - you are not the victim here.
If you have been affected by any of the issues we discussed in this post, there is support out there for you. Check out the ‘Getting Help’ section of this site for details of some organisations who might be able to help.