By Katy Vernon
Around the time in my life I was becoming keenly aware that my drinking was increasing and my mental health was suffering, I started to notice events happening locally that resonated with me. Not just the usual music events, but a new type that included panel discussions around mental health, substance use and sobriety. They featured musicians I loved and admired. Not only did it pull back the curtain on what these artists felt and confronted—or had confronted—in their lives, but it confirmed that a creative-arts career could be a unique and sometimes troubling road even when you’re successful. If these artists could struggle, then what did that mean for those of us who aspired to reach their level? Does society help feed into the idea that problems go away when you reach your artistic goal, or does it reinforce the toxic notion that you always have to suffer to be creative. Is there a healthy balance? Can we listen and learn from artists who have found ways to nurture their health in a business that glorifies bad behavior?
I knew in my gut that I wanted to be a part of these events. But I also knew that I would feel phony unless I first tackled my drinking head-on. I wasn’t ready to give up on my toxic love affair with wine just yet.
Even though I wasn’t sober at the time, I found myself watching from the sidelines at the very start of these ‘Dissonance’ events and felt a powerful pull toward them. Once I was ready to get sober, one of the first people I reached out to was a Dissonance board member. It felt safe knowing that there was a small network of people who might understand my struggles. I needed this connection so much in my life, and it has continued to help me heal and grow in so many ways both mentally and creatively. I am so grateful to be a part of the Dissonance community.
So why—as the headline indicates—am I wondering if we still need these conversations?
There are days when I feel like the mental health/wellness arena is over-saturated. I wonder if I am preaching to the choir. Every time I talk about undoing stigmas or having honest conversations, I wonder if I might sound like a broken record. Is anyone NOT talking about mental health? Isn’t everyone already diagnosed with anxiety and depression, doesn't every workplace offer wellness programs, doesn’t every bar readily offer N/A options, isn’t everyone already going to therapy? Are there even still stigmas left to smash?
Then I go onto Facebook!
This summer, when a top U.S. gymnast bowed out of the Olympic team competition for reasons related to her mental health, there was such a loud and angry backlash that it shook me to my core. Talk of “giving up,” “selfishness” and worse resonated around the world. The criticism was relentless and cruel. In the next few days, it was announced that Simone Biles was experiencing the “Twisties”—a condition that is incredibly dangerous and could have caused her extreme injury as she flew through the air performing feats that none of us can even comprehend. Other top athletes came to her defense, and the ensuing dialogue had many sides, but no matter the circumstances leading to her decision, we shouldn’t need the specifics. She doesn’t owe us that. If someone speaks out and says they need to step back and take care of themselves, who are we to judge?
It helped me realize that as far as we have come in treating mental health on par with physical health, we are not “there” yet. There is still so much judgment and ignorance surfacing in sometimes shocking dismissiveness and derision. While I have surrounded myself in a very deliberate manner with people who choose to prioritize these issues, there are still many more people to reach.
No matter who you are, who you work for, what flag you wear, you do not owe anyone an explanation for your own mental health. Just as we wouldn’t judge an injury or a physical ailment, we must respect the reality of mental ailments, and the ownership and rights of people to talk openly about them.
The criticism of people in the public eye when they tell us what they are experiencing is harmful to everyone. When they are torn to shreds and belittled by Monday-morning quarterbacks, it has a toxic ripple effect on everyone else who is struggling. As a society, we build people up as role models and then tear them down if they seem weak or don’t fit into a superhuman mold. From gymnasts to princesses, we too often hear loud choruses of criticism—and this reminder has reinforced my commitment to speaking out.
Talking about mental health isn’t weak. Taking time to heal and acknowledging your limits and challenges is strong.
While such advocacy may seem en vogue, the challenges and need are very real. Kids aren’t faking anxiety and depression to get attention, as some have suggested. Neither are adults. As a parent, I see firsthand the pressure and demands of navigating society in person and online, and if kids can find ways to connect and talk with each other about their mental health, that is a great thing.
We are living through the biggest collective mental health challenge in a generation, and perhaps the biggest substance use crisis in the nation’s history. Amid COVID-19, global warming and our stark social and economic divides, we are all just trying to survive on a planet that can often feel unsafe.
Commentators will appear on the nightly news and deride the younger generation, or even organizations like Dissonance, for trying to create safe spaces , but why — and what alternative are there? When I ask my kids how they’re doing mentally and emotionally, they tell me they are almost resigned to the fact that the planet is dying and many will never change their behavior to address it. The very least we can do—short of addressing the root issue—is to make it OK for them to process and cope with the genuine anxiety and sadness that accompany such an outlook. Maybe then a healthier next generation can build a brighter future.
I sometimes wonder whether mental health has become a catch-all term wielded for any variety of aims. For example, adults who don’t always seem so committed to the mental health of students leveraged it very well in their call for kids to return to school this fall, even with vaccinations not yet available to many. Is mental health really the main concern, or do economics and convenience underlie the call? While I’m skeptical in the absence of broader calls for mental health solutions across the board, it’s of course true that the pandemic has taken its toll on our wellbeing.
In one way or another, everyone I know has been hurt these past 18 months. The socially anxious have become even more isolated. Outgoing folks have experienced loneliness in a new way. And creative people have lost most of their outlets and income. Personally, I have had to give up being a full-time musician and take on a more stable office job to help support my family and provide health care. I feel sad many days and hopeless on my worst days.
This doesn’t even begin to acknowledge the mass grieving around the world. Entire families and communities devastated. As a childhood orphan, I feel others’ losses so deeply. And yet it seems like some don’t even care until they are personally touched. It’s hard to relate. And while we scream online about the pandemic’s social and political impact, are we even taking time to acknowledge those who have lost loved ones?
It seems now is the time for more safe spaces and grace, not to declare mission-accomplished on mental health dialogue. I don’t pretend to have the answers or to even know how to talk about it all. We probably need all sorts of ways. I just know I need to feel that people care. That we have each other’s backs. That there is kindness and love all around.
The need for difficult conversations has not gone away. We need to acknowledge and support each other’s struggles more than ever. We need to learn how to take care of ourselves and each other. The answer is yes, we still need to talk about mental health, and the mission of ‘Dissonance’ is as relevant as ever.
Katy Vernon is a professional musician , a mom and spouse, and a Dissonance board member .
