Personally, I have conflicting feelings about labelling mental health conditions. On the one hand, mental health conditions are health conditions – they have signs and symptoms, medications, and health risks. How can you expect to treat a health condition if it remains a nameless entity? What’s more, labelling it can offer a sense of closure and community – finally, you are able to pin a name onto something that has been haunting you; finally, you can make the intangible tangible and you find a whole army of people who are facing the same beast.
But, on the other hand, being labelled suddenly places you in a bin – you are grouped with other individuals given that same label and are expected to act in a specific manner. It’s as though you’ve suddenly been thrown in the midst of a prophecy – your fate is already written out and you must follow it. And it begs the question of whether or not these labels take on the form of a self-fulfilling prophecy. As in, because one is labelled in a specific manner, do they then begin unintentionally acting in the stereotypical characteristics of that label because there is this expectation placed on them and they begin to feel obligated to live up to the label. This probably highlights a big issue with our perception of mental health – society forgets that these labels reflect individuals and, while they may share a few common characteristics, they are still very different individuals who will act, think, and do differently.
Regardless of the impact and importance of labels, I have a younger sister who for all intents and purposes has anxiety, specifically when it comes to school and academics. I say “for all intents and purposes” because she has never been officially diagnosed, never gone to see a professional who would officially label her and put her in a bin. But the lack of an official diagnosis at this time does not make her panicked and anxious thoughts and feelings any less important. I am responsible for my sister – my parents made that responsibility clear from the very beginning. As such, I have to be there for her through everything, regardless of whether she wants me there or not.
But I also feel responsible for her anxiety, as though I, in part, am the reason she is facing this beast. Her anxiety stems from academics – she stresses about tests and projects, grades, living up to people’s expectations of her, being academically perfect. Her panic attacks and moments of crisis occur before exams that she spent many anxiety-filled hours preparing for. She wants to live up to people’s expectations of her and people expect her to be academically inclined, to be an overachiever and quick learner, to be just like her big sister. I blame myself for her current worries, and in a moment of emotional upheaval, she blamed me too. I created an obstacle for her that she thinks she can never overcome.
Working with my sister through her moments of crisis has been a revealing experience. It’s a delicate and difficult job – delicate because you’re working with someone in pain and difficult because the solution is often so simple. In moments of panic, even the simplest things become seemingly impossible. Sometimes, before being able to address the issue at hand, one has to stop and breathe, has to calm down and approach the issue objectively, has to take things one at a time and step by step. But in the heat of a moment, you aren’t thinking about those things – you’re panicking: it’s hard to think, let alone breathe.
Being there for my sister and working with her means working through some very simple steps and reminders that have very important implications and impacts. More than anything, it is about empowering her, reminding her what she can and cannot do, what she has control over and what she doesn’t.
I will never solve my sister’s problems for her – that is nothing more than a quick momentary fix – but I’ll walk with her as she figures out her own problems;
I’ll offer her advice here and there, an objective perspective from someone who isn’t in the midst of a chaotic emotional storm;
I’ll nudge her in the right direction, but I won’t do the heavy lifting. She has to learn for herself; she has to see what she is capable of; she has to feel in control so she can address these problems in the future whether or not I’m there to help.
By: Jana Badrani, Anxiety In Teens Contributor