Language is one of the foremost ways many of us use to communicate and convey ideas and, crucially, meaning. The intricacies of the meaning in the language we use are myriad and will vary even from person to person; it is a wonderful and beautiful thing. Unfortunately many people do not have equal access to language (think of non-speaking autistics denied access and support to use proper AAC equipment; the thousands of children, especially girls, denied the right to education and literacy etc etc), but that’s a topic for another day. Today I want to talk specifically on the importance of use and language surrounding mental health. To be clear this post is not a deep dive, but an introductory exploration.
Much of the language we see used most commonly around mental health is highly pathologised – it has medical connotations and meaning. Often this translates to seeing emotional, mental, and physical responses as indicative of a disease or disorder, and as such having connotations of being a deficit or inherent fault. Mental health itself connotes also the possibility of illness, and therefore something that needs curing. Problems arise from this in many ways, for example dismissal of legitimate concerns; inability to recognise spiritual or enlightening experiences as such, seeing everything as a symptom; putting people in boxes they don’t fit into; discrimination and ableism; etc etc. That’s not to say there aren’t benefits to this kind of language though, as I have spoken about previously in my post about diagnoses. Labels can provide validation, connection with others, understanding, and guidance to healing. Perhaps in an ideal world we would not need this kind of language – but it does certainly serve a purpose for many.
However, what the medical paradigm of mental health – including the language used because of it – has arguably caused is a lack of wider understanding of the intersectional issues relating to mental health, lack of access and acceptance of alternative healing, and lack of autonomy for many who choose not to adopt medicalised language.
Think for example of a bipolar person who chooses to use non-medical language to describe their experience, and engages in spiritual, holistic and peer support instead of traditional therapy and medication – many would look upon them as neglecting their mental health, in denial of their condition, and even reckless for deciding not to use chemical treatment. I know this happens regularly, as a bipolar person myself, simply from asking the question of what alternative support is out there. If you are medicalised, many find it hard to see your legitimate questions as sane.
This is just one non-specific example of the way medicalised language can cause issues. When we see depression in a medical lens, we often think of therapy and medication, chemical imbalances, and individual faults. The language we use plays a really large role in those connotations. But it is easy to overlook things like connection to nature, systemic issues (housing inequality, racism etc), and lack of purpose in how they contribute to the depression. Instead we hear depression and that can create a block to accessing deeper thought and understanding of the real issues, as we see it as an all encompassing condition.
But language can be a tool in helping us access different ways of thinking and communicating with others too. For example, I like the term ‘human distress’ to describe some difficult emotions and experiences, as it reminds me of our shared humanity and allows a gentler approach to seeing a way forward. Personally I also have many ways that I describe my own experiences that lay outside of the medical sphere. These phrases help me to convey my true experiences to others and process it myself. They also help me to see my experiences beyond ‘good or bad’ or medicalised ideas of delusions and reality, because it allows me a deeper exploration of what each experience actually means to me and how I can tell, rather than seeing them all as symptoms.
For example, I do feel a much deeper empathic and intuitive connection to others when I’m manic, which has proven to be important and spot-on on many occasions. By allowing myself the language to see my mania as both unrealistic, and intuitive; delusional, and spiritual, I allow myself to see my mind in all its shades and heal more freely. Other phrases I have used to convey my experience range from ‘my brain is itchy’, ‘I can’t catch the balloons in my head’, to ‘I am disappeared’. All have meaning to me and have helped me convey my experience in a more authentic way.
The Mad Community has also developed a lot of new and reclaimed language that is helpful to many, and provides many the opportunity to reframe their experiences and escape the trauma of medicalisation in mutual care. A noticeable reclamation of language is the word ‘mad’ itself. Much like the queer community have reclaimed the use of ‘queer’ from a slur to an empowering word, so has the mad community reclaimed the word mad. For years our madness has been used against us to discriminate, tease, abuse, and disregard our experiences. After all, if you are labelled mad, how could you ever convince someone you are sane? But the mad community is reclaiming the word. For many, it goes beyond a synonym for neurodiverse or mentally ill, but a title to be proud of, and a word that is in itself a revolution against the medicalisation and ableism of psychiatry.
Lots of wonderful and important language has originated/ resurfaced through the mad community and people looking for different ways to describe their experiences. It is a cycle of language we see over and over again – terms gain new connotations, no longer suit the needs of people, and must be replaced; sometimes progressive terms take on the meaning of slurs and insults, only to cycle round again later and be reclaimed. Some other terms outside pathologised language include:
- Different realities – rather than delusions or psychosis
- Altered states – states of being that are outside what many would consider normal, may appear chaotic, creative, extreme in some way (for example what some may call mania or depression)
- Psychiatric survivor – people who feel their experience with psychiatry was more harmful than helpful
Language surrounding madness and mental health has contributed to and reflected societal views on these subjects for centuries, and as such holds societal importance as much as individual importance. Perhaps the greatest take away from considering the importance of language in mental health is that it will always have significance in how we view and approach these topics as society, and it will always have significance in how we view our own experiences and communicate with others. Only you can choose the language you use in your life. And that language is free to adapt and change. If we keep considering the meaning behind our language and communicating with others on how we can best use language, we’re on our way to making meaningful change.
Sending love and support to you all today.
For further reading on this topic check out this article:
Our Happy Notes 