The topic of mental illness has long been shrouded in silence, a hushed secret passed down through generations. Yet, as awareness grows and conversations open up, more and more individuals are realizing the profound impact mental health struggles have had on their families. Meg Kissinger, a Pulitzer Prize finalist reporter and author, offers a powerfully unique perspective on this often-taboo subject. Drawing from her own lived experience growing up in a family profoundly affected by mental illness, including the loss of two siblings to suicide, Kissinger provides invaluable insights into breaking the cycle of shame and fostering healing.
“There’s no shame in having mental illness of any kind, depression, anxiety, whatever it is. There’s no shame in that. It’s how you’re made and just that you would not be ashamed of cancer or diabetes. This is how we’re made and this is who we are and, and that’s okay. And it’s just a little piece of who we are,” emphasizes Kissinger, setting the tone for a candid and compassionate discussion about embracing vulnerability and seeking understanding.
For too long, the term “stigma” has been used to describe the societal prejudice against individuals with mental illness. However, Kissinger, borrowing from the insights of Thomas Insel, former director of the National Institute of Mental Health, advocates for a crucial reframe: stigma is discrimination. This shift in terminology is not merely semantic; it fundamentally alters the focus from an internal failing to an external injustice.
“What stigma, you know, comes from the word stigmata… which literally means the markings of Christ. So marks on your hands and feet and head. And the suggestion is very subtle, but the suggestion is: people living with mental illness are marked,” Kissinger explains. “But I think where you, where you can kind of really get people to change the way they think about those folks is when you calibrate that view into discrimination. And so which ways do we deny people their full dignity and their, their full humanity? And then that really focuses, that shifts the spotlight then on the people who are doing that injustice.”
When we view the issue through the lens of discrimination, it becomes clear that the burden lies not with the individual experiencing mental illness, but with a society that denies them equal rights, opportunities, and compassion. This denial manifests in systemic ways, from inadequate housing and employment opportunities to the insistence that individuals “prove their worth” to receive care and support. By recognizing mental illness as an illness, rather than a character flaw or moral failing, we can begin to dismantle discriminatory practices and advocate for a more equitable and supportive system. This reframe empowers us to challenge the status quo and demand better treatment for those who are suffering.
Growing up in a large Irish Catholic family in an era where mental health was rarely, if ever, discussed, Kissinger experienced firsthand the pervasive silence surrounding mental illness. Her mother struggled with undiagnosed depression and anxiety, and her father with what is now recognized as bipolar disorder. These conditions, along with others, affected many of her eight siblings, leading to a profound impact on the family, including two suicides.
“My mother struggled with depression and anxiety. Of course, we didn’t know those were words that were never spoken in our house,” Kissinger recalls. “And we were never like sat down and told that. It’s just what we observed. So it took a long time to kind of sis out like what, or you know, what’s going on. And why is it when I come bounding down the stairs, you know, when I’m six years old looking for cream of wheat, it’s my grandmother at the stove and not my mother because she is mysteriously gone and they won’t tell me where she is or why. Then your, of course, your imagination runs wild and you think, what did I do to make my mother go away?”
This unspoken reality created an environment where confusion and self-blame often thrived. The lack of open communication and readily available information meant that the Kissinger children had no framework for understanding what was happening within their own home. This is a common experience for many families where mental illness is an unacknowledged presence. The absence of labels and conversations can lead to profound isolation and a distorted perception of “normal.”
To break this cycle, it’s crucial to acknowledge the impact of generational silence. Understanding that past generations may not have had the language, resources, or societal acceptance to discuss mental illness openly is an important first step. For families navigating similar legacies, initiating conversations, even if difficult, can be profoundly healing. This doesn’t necessarily mean public declarations, but rather creating a safe space within the family for honest dialogue and shared understanding.
Kissinger’s journey to understanding and healing involved writing a book that unflinchingly explored her family’s experiences with mental illness. This was not an easy undertaking, especially given the entrenched family silence. Yet, her siblings not only supported her endeavor but also provided access to personal records and insights, a testament to the transformative power of shared storytelling.
“It was imperative to me that I have their buy-in,” Kissinger states, highlighting the importance of family collaboration in her narrative. “It was important for me to have their approval. At the same time, this wasn’t gonna be a memoir by committee… It had to have the narrative arc and the My voice… But God bless my brothers and sisters and they, I am so grateful to them for being my fact checkers… they were very, very encouraging and. It was to me, nothing short of heroic for them to have the trust in me that I was gonna tell this story the way it needed to be told.”
The act of telling her family’s story, with their collective support, became a vehicle for processing trauma, finding perspective, and ultimately, healing. This illustrates that while not everyone needs to write a book, finding ways to articulate and share one’s experiences can be incredibly cathartic. This could involve:
The goal is not necessarily public disclosure, but rather finding a healthy outlet to process and integrate one’s experiences with mental illness, both personally and within the family context. When we bravely share our narratives, we not only heal ourselves but also create pathways for others to feel less alone in their struggles.
The death of a loved one by suicide brings a unique and often overwhelming constellation of emotions, including profound sadness, anger, shame, and guilt. Kissinger speaks candidly about the experience of losing two siblings to suicide, and in doing so, sheds light on a rarely acknowledged aspect of suicide grief: relief.
When her sister Nancy died by suicide after years of severe mental illness and multiple attempts, Kissinger and her family experienced a complicated mix of emotions. “When she finally did die, in June of 1978. It was a shock, but not a surprise,” she recounts. “And that night my dad gathered us all into the living room and, you know, looked at us sternly and said, if anybody asks, this was an accident. Which of course is a scary thing to hear. And the takeaway is that this is something to be ashamed of.”
Despite the profound sorrow and the societal pressure to conceal the truth, Kissinger admits to feeling a sense of relief alongside her grief. “There can be relief. Yeah. People need to hear that. Oh, absolutely,” she states. “And you know, I think that’s true of a lot of deaths, especially deaths where that, where the illness has gone on and on and on… it was a terrible sorrow. Of course. But it was also a great relief. I felt guilty that I felt such relief. But no, and you know, looking back on it so many years later. It’s a completely normal response and, um, why wouldn’t I, you know, she was out of her misery and we were out of ours. There’s a big sense of relief that came with that.”
This raw honesty is crucial for suicide loss survivors who may experience similar feelings but feel immense shame or guilt for them. It’s important to understand that feeling relief does not diminish the love for the person lost or the depth of grief. Instead, it can be a natural response to the cessation of intense suffering—both the individual’s and the family’s prolonged vigil.
For those coping with suicide loss, it’s vital to:
For individuals living with mental illness, and for those who support them, cultivating self-love and the courage to ask for help are paramount. Kissinger emphasizes that mental illness, particularly serious conditions like bipolar disorder or schizophrenia, can be a “lifetime saddle,” but it does not preclude a joyful and successful life.
“People with mental illness can have very good lives. And they can have joy and they can be loved and they can be successful. They can find success,” Kissinger asserts, challenging the notion that a diagnosis is a “death sentence.” She highlights her brother Jake, who lives in a group home for individuals with serious mental illness and “never apologizes for that. And he never flinches from talking about the struggles that he’s up against.” His openness and acceptance of himself serve as a powerful example.
For those struggling internally, Kissinger offers a simple yet profound piece of advice: acknowledge that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. Once this foundational acceptance is in place, the path to healing becomes clearer.
“I think just to be, just to know yourself and to, it starts with really just acknowledging that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. And once we get away from the shame of that and just accept who we are,” she advises. This internal shift can pave the way for seeking external support.
Learning to ask for help is a critical step. “People have such a hard time asking for help,” Kissinger notes, urging individuals to embrace humility and courage. Whether it’s confiding in a trusted friend, seeking professional therapy, or engaging with support groups, reaching out is a sign of strength, not weakness.
Supporting someone with a mental illness requires a delicate balance of empathy, understanding, and self-preservation. It’s not always easy to distinguish between a “stubborn personality” and the symptoms of an illness, as Kissinger points out. However, starting with the assumption that the person is hurting can guide compassionate responses.
Kissinger shares a poignant personal anecdote about her brother Danny, who confided in her that he “didn’t feel like being alive anymore.” Her initial, regrettable response was to punch him in the arm and tell him to “shut up.” This raw admission underscores the difficulty of navigating such conversations, especially when one is overwhelmed.
“I’m so sorry. And that’s, it’s understandable and that’s, it’s normal. A lot of people feel that way. I’m sorry. You’re going through that. You can get, you can come out on the other side. You’re, you’re gonna feel better. I’m here for you,” Kissinger reflects on what she would say now. This response prioritizes validation, hope, and support, recognizing the immense pain the individual is experiencing.
Furthermore, setting healthy boundaries is crucial to avoid burnout for caregivers. Kissinger quotes her brother Billy, who advises, “Acknowledge when it’s too much. Just learn that you have to sometimes walk away.” This doesn’t mean abandoning a loved one, but rather taking necessary breaks to recharge and maintain one’s own well-being. The love remains, but the ability to offer effective support depends on personal resilience.
Here are key takeaways for supporting a loved one with mental illness:
Ultimately, navigating mental illness within families requires a commitment to open communication, empathy, and a willingness to challenge long-held societal norms. By reframing stigma as discrimination, acknowledging generational silence, embracing the power of storytelling, and cultivating both self-love and supportive relationships, families can move towards a future where mental health is discussed openly, understood deeply, and met with compassion and care.
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