Remembering Robin Williams with Pride

Robin Williams died last night. There is nothing more final, more complete. But people around the world are sharing his stories, his jokes, and his characters. People will remember him for generations thanks to the work he chose to do, making people happy.

I want you all for a moment to step back from how he died, to how long he lived with his troubles. What those troubles are is irrelevant. We all have them, some of us are privileged enough that we don’t have them permanently. He carried that bag of troubles for his lifetime, and the fact it was a little shorter is irrelevant.
The length of that life doesn’t change the brilliance of it, or the bravery of sticking with it.
The manner in which he died should not minimise the joy that he spread all over the globe in his work.
And if we do one thing in his memory, it is to feel pride, empathy, and understanding that people who struggle with mental illness are the best and brightest this world sees. Their brains work in different ways, and their empathy is strong.

The easiest way I can describe it is that we are all light houses, alone, protecting our dangerous rocks. We shine light into each other’s lives and that is all that matters.
People with mental illness break the mold. Our mirrors are wonky, our lights are often brighter and sometimes more dull, but oh my goodness. With those wonky mirrors and sparkling lights, we can be seen for MILES.

So hold up your chins and remember Robin with a smile, because he is proof that mental illness changes nothing for the world around you, except that you shine differently. Those burdens are your own, but your friends will help you with them, just for the chance to be nearer to your light.

Rest in peace Robin, and don’t give up shining, any of you.

X

Scuby.

 

Places where they will help

Lifeline 0800 543 354

 

Depression NZ

 

Mental health NZ

 

National depression hotline 0800 111 757

 

Youthline 0800 376 633

Alcohol Hotline 0800 787 797

Outline 0800 802 437

Chinese Lifeline 0800 888 880

The lowdown Or text the lowdown team on 5626

Not what abortion "on demand" looks like, folks

In the recent discussion about abortion (and big ups to the Greens for getting it on the political agenda), several commentators who identify as pro-choice have stated sentiments to the effect that we have abortion on demand now.  Except that we really clearly don't.

Getting an ingrown toe nail cut out is a medical procedure you can get on demand.  You don't need anyone else's permission, you just need to have an ingrown toe nail and find someone who can cut it out to do so for you.  The same with getting moles removed, whether possibly cancerous or not, having most forms of plastic surgery like rhinoplasty (nose job) or breast implants.

But to get an abortion, be it medical (ie by pills at an early stage of pregnancy) or surgical, two different people have to give their permission, after seeing your own doctor.  Those people have to also be certified to give you that permission.  For people with resources who are seeking terminations in Wellington or Auckland this probably isn't a big deal, and I can understand how some might think, from the outside, that it is basically abortion on demand (although to the best of my knowledge no definition of on demand includes requiring permission from other people).  However that is a) not what the law says and b) not what the practice is.

To use a rather silly example, say that getting a can of Coca Cola (Symbol of the Free West) worked the same way as access to abortion.  If Coke is on demand then you can rock up to an appropriate outlet and get one, no one else gets to say yes or no as long as you pay your $2.

If you could only get Coke in the same way as people can access abortion under NZ law then it would look something like this:

1.  Find one of the limited number of dairies that offer Coca Cola cans.  It may be in an out of the way place, there may be protesters outside (with signs reading "Coke promotes a culture of DEATH").

2.  Once you've found a Coke-supplying dairy, seek and gain the permission of a person who works there and has certification.  The certifying dairy worker will need to approve that you can have the Coca Cola for one or more of a small number of reasons that are outlined in law; most likely "thirst relief" which is found to be the reason for 98% of Coke purchases.  You may not be thirsty right now, but you know you are going to be thirsty in the future, but you will need to carefully convince the certifying dairy worker that you should have the Coca Cola for "thirst relief" now.  Other allowable reasons include high risk of diabetic coma without it.

3.  You'll then need to go through Step 2 again with another certifying dairy worker.  Hopefully there is more than one at that dairy, but if there isn't then you will have to go somewhere else.

4.  It's likely you will then be referred to another dairy, which will actually have the can of Coke.  You'll need to get an appointment there.  Again it may be in an out of the way place, there may be protesters outside (with signs reading "Every Coke Kills a Living Thirst").

5.  When you get to the dairy for your can of Coke you'll possibly be required to go through counselling to consider the consequences of drinking a can of Coca Cola and talk through other options, such as water, milk or going through with being thirsty.

6.  You will then have to undergo a dietary examination, to assess precisely how thirsty you are, any other dietary influences that may lead to complications when you drink the Coke, a full history of your drinking history, and examine your suitability for drinking Coca Cola at this time.  You'll be given advice on whether the Coke is a good idea or not.  Likely there will also be a discussion about planning your future liquid intake so that you can avoid thirst again in the future.

7.  Finally you get your can of Coca Cola.  It's possible this will happen on the same day as the counselling and examination, but maybe not.  Enjoy.

Imagine living in a small town with only one dairy, which didn't have Coke.  The nearest bigger town also didn't have Coca Cola, and you'd have to fly or drive quite a way to get some, possibly taking time off work to do so and at some personal expense in regard to travel costs.  That'd suck.

And that would not be availability on demand.

Abortion is NOT available on demand in Aotearoa New Zealand.  In my opinion to continue to claim that it is does not help get the law or the practice changed to make abortion more available.  It's not defacto on demand, it's not almost on demand.  It is only allowed with the permission of two other people, neither of whom is the pregnant person (although their consent gets the ball rolling), and only for a limited list of reasons outlined by a law set over 30 years ago.

In my opinion the best place to get practical information on accessing abortion services in Aotearoa New Zealand is abortion.gen.nz.

Edited to Add:  After I wrote this, but before it was scheduled to post, the Sunday Star Times published this article, including one person recounting her experience of accessing abortion under the current law.

Guestie: On Carrying Patriarchy's Baggage while We Kick its Butt

Thanks Jessie Anne for this contribution. 

Content warning: involves discussion of eating disorders.

I have the pleasure of knowing many amazing feminists; feminists working for social and climate justice, feminists working against racism, transphobia, homophobia. I know feminists who are working in their own way to make their own workplace or industry less patriarchal and misogynistic.  Feminists raising kids to be kick ass feminist warriors. They remind me what strength looks like. They ground me with something healthy to aspire to and be inspired by.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the internalized patriarchy that these women quietly carry around with them every day.  The baggage I don’t know they have which I haven’t had a chance to help carry. I’ve been thinking about how many of us have similar experiences, and if there are things we can do as a movement to help ease that load.

Being a feminist is kind of a tough gig sometimes, and, at least for me, it has meant some pretty high self-imposed expectations that I added to my already hefty list of unobtainable goals; complete with accompanied guilt.

My particular clusterfuck of internalized patriarchal baggage I’m focusing on here is my experience with eating disorders. It’s long and complicated, and not really a story I have time for here. Although I no longer define myself as someone with an eating disorder, in some ways it continues, though less acutely. I think anyone who has experienced an eating disorder know that the lines between ‘recovered’ and not can be blurry at best.  It started with dieting when I was 8, and has at different times involved vomiting multiple times a day for months and years on end; otherwise named Bulimia; the awkward unpopular kid in the class of eating disorders. It has meant a lot of things between that too.

It has meant secrecy, and shame, and often most overwhelmingly, utter mental exhaustion. Sometimes it was so consuming that I had little room for anything else. Sometimes it was less about what was actually going into my body, and more a hatred of my body that was so strong I barely left the house for days. Feeling repulsion and disgust for the skin you live within can be very near debilitating.

I am somewhat at peace with the journey around these issues with myself and my body being a lifelong one. This realization has led me to examine the pressure I have put on myself to be free of internalized patriarchy.

I’m not going to wake up one morning to find myself free from being triggered by comments or situations that make me feel the need to make drastic and unhealthy changes to myself. But I think I now know a place where I can calmly reject those thoughts before they take hold for long; a place which I consider a victory and has taken years of hard work to get to.

For many years I thought, sometimes unconsciously, that I could only be a fully-fledged feminist and activist once I got 100% over my eating disorder and my sometimes-general-self-hate.

Unfortunately, through my own interpretation of what it means to be a feminist, I’ve spent years thinking that I had to one day be a ‘fully formed feminist’ without hypocritical thoughts and with a impenetrable shield that deflects all patriarchal nonsense from piercing my external layer.

In some ways, I’ve labeled myself a feminist-in-waiting.

This may have, in part, contributed to my silence around my eating disorder. Maybe if people knew about it, I thought, almost subconsciously, my feminist membership card might be revoked, only to be returned once I got the ‘total-self-love’ stamp. The unobtainable expectation to be the internally perfect feminist has also led to feeling an added layer of unnecessary guilt. Cause if there’s one thing women could do with a bit more of, it’s guilt, right?

This expectation I set for myself for so long was largely self-imposed and the expectations self-created. But I do wonder how many other feminists out there find it difficult to talk about their own internalized patriarchal baggage. Looking back at conversations and dialogue around issues like eating disorders that I’ve observed or been a part of, I do think that there can be a sense of ‘otherness’ attached to them, which can leave you feeling like these things are experienced outside of our feminist and activist communities. This otherness doesn’t encourage inclusive and open dialogue when they might be experienced in the here and now.

A feminist friend and I also recently talked about the internalised patriarchy we carry into relationships with cis males in our lives. We admitted to each other (this after years of chatting about pretty much everything) how much we often are part of creating a patriarchal power dynamic in these relationships. Once it got down to examples it was kind of funny; and relieving! I wasn’t the only one, and she wasn’t either!

It’s just another example of how the reality of our lives as feminists is still affected by internalized patriarchy. Some of it is pretty hard to admit, too. My friend and I were both left shocked at the fact that we’d never been in a space where we could acknowledge these behaviours with others. Are we the only ones?

A very quick glance around the interwebs reveals many blogs and articles by feminists highlighting similar pressures; the pressure to be a beacon of pure post-patriarchal light in the dark and the silencing which comes with that invisible pressure.

Another friend helpfully pointed out, when I raised this topic, that the pressure comes not only from within the movement but from outside of it.  Impossibly high standards are made for us by patriarchy, and it seems by feminism too. But I think these standards are contributed to by the market-friendly co-opted parts of feminism which are at times hard to identify; the smiling and happy feminist front; the ‘feminism for everyone’, buy your happy relatable feminist T-Shirt here!

Maybe we could set up more spaces to discuss what patriarchal baggage we all carry; maybe that would help share the load. A lot of these issues, the internalized patriarchy shit we deal with in private, are sometimes subtle and unclear, even to ourselves. But it’s important we talk about them, or at least talk about whether and how we do. Because whether it’s a secret eating disorder or recreating patriarchal power relations in our relationships, or whatever else, these things can end up affecting not only ourselves, but those around us, and our wider communities.

I’ve come to realize and accept that many of us can carry the worst parts of what we are working to change within us, and that those parts don’t necessarily fall away when we pick up the axe aimed at patriarchy. The axe helped me cope with them; it even empowered me to eventually move beyond my eating disorder, but there are parts of me that remain affected. And that’s ok.

So what I would say to the 17 year old me, and any other young girl feeling so enraged and empowered by this new knowledge of feminism to put to her experience is this:

Being a feminist is a journey. It’s different for everyone. You don’t live in a silo that separates you from the influences of patriarchy. The parts of yourself that will be, at least in part, shaped and defined by patriarchy will come in different forms and will be different for everyone. But you can positively contribute to the dismantling of patriarchy even while having terrible feelings created BY patriarchy.

Patriarchy is fucked, but no matter how it fucks you up, don’t let it also take away your claim to being part of the movement to dismantle it. 

On her bike

For a bit of 2012 and most of 2013 I borrowed the Auckland Frocks on Bike bike to see if I could get around on two pedals.  I've written about that experience here.  In November last year I decided I'd been dipping my toes in for long enough and invested in a bike, complete with basket, bike lock, rear rack, and good intentions galore.  My mum gave me The World's Largest Bike Bell.  I decorated the basket with some flowers from a broken plastic lei.

It's actually going well.  I have worked out I have poor balance (I fall off quite a bit, have trouble with take off too), and that's not all that likely to go away.  I'm also rather scared of going fast, so I use the brakes a lot going downhill.  People smile at me more when I have the basket on, and it's quite delightful to be able to get around my suburb and a bit further afield and say hello to those I meet on the street; something I could never do in a car.

What I've worked out is that when I cycle I feel I am a part of the neighbourhood I'm moving through, with all my senses, as opposed to being separated from it by the steel and glass shell of a car.  And that's a good feeling.

Cycling has become an important part of my self-care regime, along with nice-smelling stuff from Lush, visits to Savemart, a daily dose of anti-depressants, cuddles from young children of my acquiantance, reading novels, naps, eating cake, a monthly visit to a psychotherapist, and saying a cheery hello to people on the street.

At Suffrage Day last year my colleague and friend Pippa Coom, deputy chair of the Waitemata Local Board, spoke at Khartoum Place about what a bicycle meant to women in the 1800s; freedom.  I must admit I initiatlly thought that was a bit OTT, but on reflection I can feel that freedom whenever I ride.  For me it's a very different freedom from that of my foremothers and -sisters, but still it is freedom that is meaningful to me now.  Freedom from relying heavily on oil, freedom from traffic, freedom from being shackled to using roads to get around (cycleways through parks FTW!), freedom to experience the city around me directly.  Freedom to park for free, and get some sneaky inadvertent exercise, and get more sun, and ring a bell at people with good reason.

I'm not in this for health, although cycling does help me feel better.  I'm not in it to save the planet, because I know I can't do that on my own however much I can set an example.  I'm not in it to save money, appreciated consequence though that is.   I'm in it because in my current circumstances it is simply the best way for me to get around most of the time, and it helps me to feel well.

The bike I was previously borrowing felt like it acquired a name after a while (Bertie), but I haven't taken the step with the new one yet.  I've thought about Decca, and Agnes, and Ingrid, but I'm open to your suggestions.  Bruiser or Freedom seem more appropriate some days!  Feel free to leave your ideas in comments.

Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes

"Sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you."

Not so.

Time after time we see this, people who suffer, and seeing no other way to end their suffering, end their lives.  Charlotte Dawson is the recent high profile case, and there will be likely be many that go unreported in Aotearoa NZ this week alone.

And so often it comes back to the sometimes thoughtless, oft-times callous, many times deliberate ways in which we wound each other with words.

For those who have not had the experience of a mental illness which magnifies the slights of others inside your head until they echo around and around with no way out, well it is a hard thing to understand I suppose.

But please be assured that the little mean cutting things we sometimes say to each other can contribute to serious blood loss, in the mental health sense, for some.

In all the sharing around Dawson's death, this is the best link I've seen - genuinely useful both for those with depression and those around them.  Despite having depression for over a decade myself I never made the clutter connection until reading it yesterday.

Let's be a little kinder to each other, or at least try.

How Savemart changed my life

Clothes shopping used to be something I was crap at.  Looking, fine, but actually trying stuff on and making a decision?  Not so good.  The stakes just seemed so high, given that I usually didn't have much spare money and I'm very aware that I'm not necessarily a good judge of what suits me; when I look in the mirror, like so many other people, what I see is perforated with body-image baggage, some mine, some my mother's, a fair bit from Barbie, most from the media images I see All. The. Time.  

Not to mention my insidious fear of shop assistants in clothing shops.  Why do they always look so put together, and intriguingly edgy, and effortless, when I had to really think about what to wear and then ended up going for the safe option every time? I completely understand why Tina Fey so often wears a lovely dress in the same shade of blue to awards shows.

The first time I walked into the Onehunga Savemart I was intimidated.  So many clothes!  Then I noticed that the people who worked there were all in red t-shirts and jeans, the changing rooms were pretty beaten up, and the floor was uneven.  There were trolleys to put your finds in, masses of clothes of a million different types (really), books, more jeans than you would get at a Jeans West. My kind of place!  No one was going to judge me for what I picked off the rack or tried on, no one was going to try to sell me something, it was oddly peaceful and restful, because there is so little interaction between any of the people there.  Which is probably a bit sad for some people, but for me was rather nice.  

I think the first time I didn't even try anything on.  I suspect I bought a handbag - I've gone from having two "grown-up" handbags, both given to me by my mother, to rather a lot more, all from Savemart and all cheap as chips.  I vowed to return, with more time (I can never go for less than 2 hours) and an open mind.  

My fledgling op shopping confidence from my student days has returned, now with more faith in my body that has produced two children and I've come to feel more comfortable in.  Sure, there's heaps of dross, but also some amazing gems.  The best thing I've ever seen was a Vera Wang wedding dress for $60.  I didn't buy it, not being in need of a wedding dress, and I guess it might have been a fake, but it was in great condition.  My best buys to date have been wool jackets - I have little shoulders and seem to benefit from the cast offs of others who discover their new jacket is too tight.  

To start with I was still very harsh on myself, rejecting almost everything I tried on.  But the prices were so low (I often look at the "designer" stuff which can sometimes be as much as $60, but most of the rest is $10 or less) that the risk for me in grabbing something and finding out later I didn't have the confidence to wear it was almost eliminated.  I tried on stuff for fun, stuff I couldn't imagine ever having an occasion to wear, but what the hell, I probably wouldn't buy it, and there was always the chance it could be great.  My trolley got fuller, I worked out a system for myself of how to most efficiently try on masses of clothes while respecting the three items in the changing room limit, and I bought more handbags.

I started to take an interest in putting an outfit together (with a handbag of course), rather than only feeling comfortable in an ensemble put together by a shop assistant for me.  I clashed colours, ignored rules ("blue and green shouldn't be seen", whatevs), and started to value my body for what it does for me, not how it looks.  Clothes have become an expression of my personality, rather than a way to hide.  If something doesn't end up looking right after I get it home or wear it a few times, whether it be the fit or the colour or the style, then it goes back in the donation bin, having cost me often less than a hot chocolate.  If I find a better red shirt or green handbag then the lesser one gets handed on too.  

I have found my attitude has changed from "my body's wrong for this" to "that 's too big/tight/bright/dreary"; the blame shifted from me, my body, to the clothing instead.  This may seem like a very simple thing to many, but for me it was a revelation; it's the clothes that don't fit, not my body.

And that's how Savemart has changed my life.  

Once a month or so I try to shoe horn in a few hours to visit the Savemart in Onehunga, New Lynn or Northcote (I hope to venture to Manukau sometime soon) for a fix.  Sometimes I buy nothing (maybe a handbag) but usually I come home with something I'm excited to wear.  It's a long way from my teens when I wore black constantly not because I was a goth (that would require learning how to do make-up and potentially standing out) but because I wanted someone to ask me if I wore black all the time because of Dinky Bossetti (no one ever did).  

And I also own more handbags than I ever thought I could.  

Mother and Baby Support: A Long Time Coming

It’s been a long time coming, but finally the North Island is to get a unit geared toward helping new mothers who face post-natal depression or distress.

Health Minister Tony Ryall announced today an $18.2 million commitment to providing both acute in-patient beds as well as residential beds where the mother and baby can remain together, and Martin Johnston in the Herald did some good reporting on the news in today’s paper.

Lynda Williams, the coordinator of the Maternity Services Consumer Council, told me this commitment is something she and myriad consumer, health and even official organisations have been championing for many many years. She heartily welcomed the news, with a caution: “It’s not enough,” she said, “but let’s start with what we’ve been waiting 20 years for.” Williams emphasises that the new services must be set up in consultation with the consumer groups that have been fighting for it. “We have some clear ideas about how this needs to be done. Preferably it would be better to have a stand-alone unit with other support groups and services around it.”

Despite numerous well-attended meetings, support from experts, lobbying and campaigning, she suspects a crucial impetus for the move were the reports of the Perinatal and Maternal Mortality Review Committees, which in recent years have shown suicide to be the No. 1 cause of maternal death in New Zealand.

As a (this links to a PDF) recent article in O & G Magazine (the magazine of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists) points out, these maternal reviews were only reinstated six years ago, and they show that in the five years to 2010, there were 57 maternal deaths, with the three leading causes listed as suicide (13), pre-existing medical condition (11) and amniotic fluid embolism (9).

The figures and the O&G article also show that overall Māori and Pacific mothers are more likely than NZ European mothers to die in pregnancy or in the first six weeks postpartum. 

The O&G piece notes that there were four deaths by suicide not included in the review figures because they took place more than 42 days (the cut-off to be counted) – though less than a year – after the women gave birth. Those 13 maternal deaths by suicide that were counted break down a bit further like this: 7 occurred during pregnancy and 6 postpartum or post-termination of pregnancy. (O&G reported that: "Eleven of the 13 deaths from suicide were by violent means.")

As well as the proposed new and much-needed mother and baby services for the North Island (there’s already a unit in the South Island), the figures clearly point to the need for support and options for all aspects of reproductive and maternal health care.

Secondary Effects

A few days ago, I spent the afternoon with a group of women. We had met, generally through online groups or professional contacts, and kept in touch. Some of them I was meeting for the first time, others I already knew in person. We laid out food we had made the previous day or picked up hastily on the way, cold meats and cheeses, quiche, boiled potatoes with butter, chocolate brownies. We sat on the deck in the sun, drinking ginger beer and talking. We gossiped - yes, gossiped! - a bit. We told jokes where we knew what was coming and laughed before the punchline had been spoken.

I don't think at any point we mentioned the Sandy Hook massacre. News had only just started to be filtered through to us. Maybe we didn't feel like there was much worth saying. Maybe, with the majority of us working in education in one way or another, it hit too close to home. We hadn't yet realised that - like every one of us - the shooter was autistic, and that once again the term would start being banded around as synonymous with lack of empathy, lack of feeling and violence.

Parents stepped up their search for normalcy, because normal people don't commit violence, because clearly forcing your child to stop moving or communicating in the way that's easiest and most natural to them is the best way to prevent a massacre. Someone claimed to have phoned the police about an autistic person they know of, fearing they may become violent with no further evidence than the fact they're weird.

Not many people have talked about the six year old autistic victim, Dylan Hockley. We haven't much either. We're too busy trying to defend ourselves. We haven't talked much about the other issues that relate to us as the gun debate - and I can't believe it's even a debate - steps up, about the number of autistic people, predominantly young men, shot by police, and about how that's supposed to just be accepted.

A lot of what I want to say can be summed up by Julie's post, There is no Depression in New Zealand, which mostly but not altogether could apply to my experience of being autistic (and mental illness is not something entirely foreign to me either) - this is just my version of it. There is of course a need to challenge the stereotypes that get applied, the associations with violence that have no basis in fact, the refusal to meaningful acknowledge perpetrated against those with mental illness and autistic people.

And of course it's hard to process events like this. We all want to live in a world without them, to find some magic key that means they won't happen again.  But if the cost is prejudice, if it's our acceptance of child abuse, if it's persecution and ultimately leads to more violence, we are only floating further from any kind of solution.

There is no depression in New Zealand

There's a lot of talk at the moment about mental illness, and particularly about assumptions made that really bad things (like mass shootings) are carried out by people with mental illnesses.  I was part of such a discussion today, and I paused a bit, then told the small group discussing it that I have a mental illness.

I explained, after an awkward silence, that I take medication every day for depression, because I seem to have a chemical imbalance in my brain*, much in the same way that I take medication every day for asthma, because I seem to have chronic inflammation in my bronchioles.  I see a counsellor once a month to help me with tools to build my mental fitness, in much the same way that others might go to a gym for their physical fitness. It was surprisingly hard for me to talk about.

I think it's natural to assume that people only do really bad things because they are not in their right mind at the time; a "psychotic break" perhaps.  And I'm sure sometimes that is the case.  But it does seem like often it's a convenient way to Other, to dehumanise, to put the perpetrators of bad deeds at a distance from ourselves, so that we don't really have to explain or understand why. 

Via a Facebook friend I happened to stumble across this interesting blog post today, which included the timely quote:

Instead of examining what made it possible for [Anders] Breivik to unleash his barrage of racial hatred (he was vehemently against immigration by racialized bodies and supposed ‘takeover’ of Norway through this immigration’), he is excused and deemed insane, being sent to psychiatric care instead of prison. The explanation for his violence – he had a psychotic  ‘break’, a break from his normal civility and a break from an ordered society that would never breed such violence.

Never mind his high levels of planning and execution, never mind that he was actively a part of White supremacist organizations with similar views – White society is civilized and non-violent, so he must have been crazy. Madness is used here as a way of explaining away violence within White bodies and White society. It is not the norm, it is a break from it. 

And then there is this response to the Sandy Hooks shootings, and the leap to assume a role for mental illness there too, You Are Not Adam Lanza's Mother, including this:

The reality is that there is no such observed link: “after analysing a number of killers, Mullen concludes, ‘they had personality problems and were, to put it mildly, deeply troubled people.’ But he goes on to add: ‘Most perpetrators of autogenic massacres do not, however, appear to have active psychotic symptoms at the time and very few even have histories of prior contact with mental health services.’” And most people with mental illness are not violent, although they are far more likely to be victims of crime.. [their emphasis]

I don't really know how to finish this post other than to say it has been a difficult day.

---

I've just edited this, a few minutes after publication, to take out the picture and reference to some of the work the Mental Health Foundation is doing because I don't want to confuse things by writing about them in the same post.  Hope that makes sense.




*  This is my experience of mental illness, and it won't necessarily reflect how others with mental illnesses see their own experience.

Guest Post: Abortion & maternal mental health report

Many thanks to Family Planning NZ for allowing me to publish the below from their e-newsletter:

A report released in December 2011 by the United Kingdom National Collaborating Centre for Mental Health was commissioned to review the best available evidence on any association between induced abortion and mental health outcomes, and draw conclusions where possible.  The report concluded that, on the best evidence available: 

• The rates of mental health problems for women with an unwanted pregnancy were the same whether they had an abortion or gave birth.
• An unwanted pregnancy was associated with an increased risk of mental health problems.
• The most reliable predictor of post-abortion mental health problems for women was having a history of mental health problems before the abortion. 
• The factors associated with increased rates of mental health problems for women in the general population and following abortion were similar. 
• There were some additional factors associated with an increased risk of mental health problems specifically related to abortion, such as pressure from a partner to have an abortion and negative attitudes towards abortions in general and towards a woman’s personal experience of the abortion. 

Here's a link to the full PDF of the report.

Uncomfortable Overlaps

A few years ago, I sought counselling from a feminist organisation. I had effectively untreated and quite serious PTSD from events earlier in my life, and there were a couple of other smaller stresses on me at that time. I've never had a good time with counselors; my previous experiences had ranged from outright homophobia and pretty significant verbal abuse to my pissing them off for reasons I simply couldn't identify. Suffice it to say that I didn't try again until I really needed to.

Said feminist organisation was the only option - at least that I was aware of - that was possible given my budget. I wasn't comfortable with it from the start; I knew people whose employment or voluntary work brought them into contact with it in a professional capacity. Rationally, most of the people I had in mind were caring and supportive - or at least capable of acting so. But every week I sat in the waiting room on the verge of throwing up from the fear that I would meet someone I knew and explain that I was not there in my usual activist role. However much I believed there was no shame in being there, I was utterly ashamed.

This post is an attempt to untangle, both from personal experience and a more theoretical standpoint some of the issues around the uncomfortable intersection between the activist community and the provisions and receipt of services (none of these are ideal terms, but I lack better ones). And the first point is criticism. Because my experience wasn't good. It involved - and I won't go into the details - significant amounts of implied victim blaming, repeated dismissal of my disabilities, telling me to do things I'd explicitly identified as triggering and ultimately - when the counselor left the service -  dropping me when I was in an obviously incredibly vulnerable state without any kind of follow up.

Yet I really hesitated about writing this post. It's been brewing in my head for a while, and I'm still not sure if I'll actually click 'publish'. And one of the reasons is I feel uncomfortable criticising this organisation when I know many people who do important work to support it. I don't think I personally know anyone who works or volunteers there, but I could. They're the sort of people I organise events alongside, go to meetings with, march with. It goes against a lot of instinct - even though the only place my criticism gets personal is against that one counsellor - to criticise when we should be standing together against some scary common enemy, or something like that. Moreover, I know this organisation and others like it are horribly underfunded and need support - and they do help a lot of people and I really don't want to undermine that in any way. It's not a new, or an unusual quandry - how to criticise from within a marginalised group or perspective without reinforcing that coming from without, but I think it has a particularly concerning place here.

The second point is about supporting people who are within activist groups. This is a much bigger topic than I have the scope for here, and a lot has been written about it. But all I've found is centred on two things; one is when someone is being supported with an issue that relates to the group (for example abuse by another group member) or short term support - such as someone being triggered within a meeting. I don't necessarily consider this a bad thing, or that activist groups should be taking on long term support roles - in fact, I think often the danger is taking on too much and it is better to draw a clear line around what can and can't be done well. But where activism and service provision are mixed, things can become problematic, and I'm not sure a lot of people involved even note this as an issue.

Part of this relates to heirarchy. This is not to discount the hierarchy present within activist organisations, and part of this is personal - I really struggle with interacting with medical and related services and I tend to thrive in environments where I get to talk loudly, organise things and play with websites and mailing lists. I appreciate this isn't universal. But the movement of the same people, involving the same issues, between the fuzzy, ill defined and informal roles and heirarchy of informal activist groups and the really clear cut roles of (say) counsellor and client is not necessarily an easy one. And then - more simply but perhaps hard to resolve - simpler issues like confidentiality and how relationships change between spaces.

I think also, there are different stories told in service provision and activist groups. I'm sure there are a lot of exceptions to these, as there are people about whom they are true, but as much as anything it's the assumptions that are made that's relevant. One, by (generally charitable) service providers, is of the client who comes to them with a problem; usually there are multiple things wrong in their life. They are helped by the organisation, they grow in confidence. They volunteer for the group and become a campaigner on the issue they experienced. The other story is - well I've found it most common in socialist groups, particularly around sexual orientation, but I think it's wider than that - of people who participate in activism for a cause, perhaps defending people they care about, perhaps because it relates to something else they're involved in, perhaps seeing it in pretty abstract terms initially. It's that involvement that gives them the knowledge and confidence to address it in their own lives.

And there are problems - probably for both groups - in reconciling these two stories. It was really hard to explain that yes, I'd organised a reclaim the night march (hey look, there's the poster for it on the wall right there), yes, I'd blogged for the best part of the year on victim blaming, but that doesn't mean that I haven't internalised a whole lot of these ideas.

The third angle I wanted to talk about was exclusion. Whilst the counselor crossed some very clear lines with me, as others have done, I'm increasingly seeing my general negative interactions in terms of my disability status. I didn't fit into the typical mold of people they catered for, and they didn't cater for me. The lack of acknowledgement or understanding of this is what makes it particularly problematic, but even with that, it's exclusionary.

I'm reasonably confident in my response to groups that deliberately discriminate against groups of people (it ain't positive). I also recognise that they cannot provide services to all people, and that there are legitimate limits to what they can and can't do. But this indirect exclusion becomes more difficult when there are discrepancies between a funded service provider that may well have a mandate to meet the more typical needs of the majority, versus a dynamic where questioning such exclusions is a discussion that comes naturally to some of the members.

On a personal level, I found options that worked for me and I am doing much better now. Options that required having someone to help me research them, and a disposable income, both of which I had, neither of which should be expected. On a more general level... once again, I feel only that I have a whole heap of issues to raise and no solutions to offer, but it's a start.

Comment direction: no speculation about the identities of individuals and organisations involved please. It makes me really uncomfortable and isn't relevant. I ask you to remember that this post represents my thoughts and experiences and not necessarily those of anyone else at THM.

over the balcony

yesterday some dude decided to give everyone in parliament a scare by climbing over the balcony, presumably in an attempt to jump down. in the process, he was heard to be shouting out some grievances he had with the minister of social development and with the system. perhaps he was also upset at the prime minister.

there is a narrative running on several blogs that the person is, you guessed it, "crazy" or a "madman". perhaps he has a mental illness, i really don't know. no doubt it will come out soon enough. but even if he does have one, should that mean that we ignore anything he has to say.

the thing is that no-one seems to be clearly reporting what he actually did say. some lawyer that helped try to stop him says "[he] was making noises about various injustices". i can understand that, being busy with physically trying to stop the man might have been a hindrance to paying full attention to what he was saying. but someone nearby must have heard it. and surely the man himself could be interviewed further?

of course if he is discredited enough as a "madman", then no-one needs to take seriously what he has to say. yet there are certainly some issues issues in his life, issues regarding WINZ and social policy that are directly impacting his life, that motivated his actions. i believe it's important for us to know what those issues are, and why they made him feel so desperate. to continue to ignore those problems, which will no doubt be shared by many people across the country, is to ignore a ticking time-bomb.

but what irks me most, as i've mentioned above, is the notion that if he is "crazy", he has nothing useful to say. or nothing that we should be paying attention to. as if people with mental illnesses have no rights, no needs, face no injustices, and simply don't matter. ugh.

Expanding and contracting and expanding again

I was so sure it would be the Tuesday.  No particular reason, just a hunch. 

Due date was the first or second of September; the midwife seemed to waggle back and forth between them.  I was full and heavy, the most pregnant I'd ever been before.  Maybe I thought Tuesday because I wanted the pregnant part to be over.  I was very apprehensive about the labour part though, so I just kept pushing it away in my mind. 

Magically this process was going to be:

1. Pregnant
2. ????
3. Baby and mother healthy and well

I hadn't laboured at all with Wriggly, not a single contraction, in a story I told in three parts several years ago.  I was partly looking forward to giving labour a go, but pretty nervous, especially in regard to what I consider one of the scariest medical words in the English language, "crowning".  And I knew if labour didn't come on spontaneously soon it would be off to surgery for another sunroof delivery, with nary a uterus quiver experienced, and no chance of labouring with any future pregnancies either.

By 10.30pm I'd given up waiting to feel my first ever contraction and I headed to bed.

lawyers and mental illness

i really wanted to share this piece about scrutiny of mental illness in the australian legal profession. i like it so much that i want to just reproduce the whole thing here, but that would be rude. so here's an excerpt but please do read the whole thing over there:

Two NSW magistrates have had to front up before the Parliament and explain to a bunch of politicians why their mental illness should not render them unfit to perform their duties. One wonders how many of the honourable members listening have (or should have) appointments with psychiatrists pencilled in their diaries.

[...]

With respect, those who judge our judges and lawyers should understand that law is one of those professions very conducive to depression in its practitioners. Perhaps a good way to describe a lawyer’s job is to always assume the worst scenarios are going to happen and then protect his or her client from each of them. The best lawyers are almost always the ultimate pessimists. Too much positive thinking is dangerous in the legal game.

Life is especially tough for many small operators whose sources of work are drying out or legislated out of existence. These are often the lawyers prepared to do low-paying legal aid work for average punters. These are the lawyers who would struggle to pay their own hourly rate let alone the fees of the average private psychiatrist.

As magistrate Maloney told the NSW Parliament: “Interestingly, researchers have found that 40% of law students, 20% of barristers and 33% of solicitors have a mental illness. It is from this demographic that judicial officers are drawn. In the past 12 months three barristers have sadly taken their own lives. In recent years, two judges.”

it appals me that lawyers & judges would have to prove a lack of depression or other mental illness. it's hugely discriminatory as well as self-defeating.

SST and their scenarios

Gotta give the Sunday Star Times credit, at least they're trying to make their scare-stories about parents not having complete control over their teenagers a little more equal opportunity. So whilst girls were disproportionately targeted last week, today they've come up with some hypothetical scenarios aimed at increasing the net of vulnerable teens they're concern trolling on behalf of:

A counselor takes a student to a doctor who prescribes Prozac. "Once the student has seen the doctor, the responsibility for that decision is the doctor's. Counselors don't administer medication."

Actually, this is the one I'm closest to sympathetic to. Prozac does carry medical risks, particularly early on and in teenagers, and I'd like someone to be monitoring their health - and ideally that would be a main caregiver. But the counsellors aren't objecting to that - they're simply saying that it's the doctor's responsibility to assess the risk and take precautions. Seems eminently reasonable to me. And if a teenager needs a medication (and yes, I do have concerns about how antidepressants are prescribed - but I also know they can be a lifesaver) isn't it better they get it?

A student has suicidal thoughts. "Our job is to make a risk assessment. If our assessment is the kid really is at risk then there's no choice – the parent must be told. When kids are genuinely at risk, there's no fight in them, and they actually want someone to take responsibility for their safety."

They make a risk assessment? Can't have that. That would make too much sense.
Look, they've said that they will inform parents if there is a risk (I would hope/assume other procedures would come into place in certain circumstances, eg abuse). Sometimes people have vague, fleeting suicidal thoughts when things are going badly that they have no plans to act on. Of course expressions of these need to be taken seriously until it's determined what the risk level is, but isn't it best for teens to be able to express them and have help dealing with them?

A student considers a sex change. "If there is no indication of serious imminent harm, then there's no choice; we can't tell."

Oh yes, here's the ultimate scare story! Note the really vague term 'sex-change' which most people are going to associate with surgery. Let's get this clear. Little Bobby is not going to go to school one day and come back as Roberta, minus a penis. Surgery happens at the end of a long, long process, and is rarely publicly funded. There probably isn't even any medication involved at this stage (and if there is, see Prozac argument above). What we are talking about is teens discussing their gender identity in a supportive environment. I think that's fucking fantastic - I can't imagine that anyone would have felt able to to that at my high school.

And, yknow, gender identity can be very fluid for teenagers. Some people will know that they're not cisgendered from a very young age - but others will only start to explore the idea at puberty or later. And of those that do, some will be trans* and take medical steps, others will not but identify differently to how they were assigned at birth. And some will be cisgendered but have been exploring - say - an uncomfortableness with gender roles they were expected to take. Imagine being outed to your parents at such an early stage in your exploration, when you're really not sure what to tell them.

We didn't have counselors in my high school, so this is quite a new concept to me, but if they're providing a safe space for teenagers to talk about these issues, conducting risk assessments to keep them safe but not breaking their privacy unnecessarily, then this is a fantastic and needed service. Shame on you, SST, for your scare-mongering. I can guarantee that if you manage to destroy the confidentiality, kids are going to die because of it.

I also recommend Boganette's post on Judith Collins' call for a law change.