Transcriber: Susana Byun Reviewer: Maricene Crus
Host: Our next speaker, Amber Naslund, is actually a social media strategist.
But today,
she is taking us on the journey that she has been on
as she worked to overcome depression, anxiety,
looking into some of the areas of the mind
that Carrie was touching on in terms of stress and disorder.
Her talk today, entitled
"Mind games: transcending the messiness of mental illness."
(Applause)
Amber Naslund: Hi, I am so excited to be here today.
When Jackie and I first talked about this talk,
I went through all my usual ministrations that I do as a professional speaker,
and I started to put together slides and videos,
and I have none of that today.
Because this story doesn't really fit.
And I want to start you in 1993,
on a Midwestern college campus, much this kind of time of year,
where it's fall, and there's a lot of excitement,
and the anticipation of new school, new friends, new people.
And there was a young woman
on the floor of her dorm room shower.
And it's cold and she's shaking,
and she's sobbing silently, with her arms wrapped around her knees,
and no matter how hot the water gets, she can't get warm.
And she's hoping that nobody comes into that room
and finds her there on the floor.
That nobody asks her, "What's wrong?"
That nobody can see into her mind, where she is saying to herself,
over and over again,
"I hate you.
You are worthless. I hate you!"
I am here today because there are too many women
on the floors of showers,
and there are too many professional people in their offices,
who take 30 seconds out of every 20 minutes
to go hide in the bathroom because they need a moment
to cry, to be angry or to be afraid.
And I'm here today because there's too many people
that wake up in the morning,
and all they want to do is crawl back into bed
and wish that the world would just disappear
and go away.
I am talking about the people who suffer every day
and live with mental illness,
whether it's depression or anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia,
the entire gamit of that.
It's so prevalent in our world, but we don't talk about it.
I'm here on this stage so we can talk about it.
It's a stigma that we've created amongst our society
because it's uncomfortable to talk about these things.
Depression and anxiety are weird.
They're like the crazy uncle you bring to the family reunion,
but you kind of pretend he's not there.
And you shove him off into the corner and you're like, "I don't know that guy."
And we don't talk about these things at all amongst even our closest friends.
I work a lot on the internet in my day-to-day job,
and I am fascinated by what people will share on Facebook.
You'll get the most excruciating detailed story of somebody's kidney stones,
of their kid's day at school,
of their bacon shaped tattoo they just got on their ass.
(Laughter)
There is absolutely no shame about any of these things.
But when it comes to mental illness,
we don't talk about it.
We maintain our silence so protectively,
and when we look at the world of illness in general,
we create and lift up, rightfully,
champions of people who battle with cancer
or who battle with chronic illness,
and we log their achievements at living every day,
with having to overcome something that large.
But we don't do that
with people who suffer with depression or anxiety,
and that is not okay with me.
I'm here because it makes me angry.
It makes me angry that we, as a society, have made this not okay.
We've made it something to fear, to be ashamed of, to hide.
The stigma we've created is because,
collectively, we developed negative perceptions
about what mental illness is.
And the stigma is exacerbated when we keep hiding it,
and when we don't talk about it.
And the reason that this matters to me so deeply and personally
is because that story I told you at the beginning,
of the woman at the Midwestern college campus
on the floor of that shower,
that was me.
Almost 19 years ago to the day, in fact,
which I think is rather prescient, being here on the TEDx stage.
That was me!
And I care about that because I've spent many years
knowing what that judgment feels like.
I know what it's like when you finally decide you're going to open up about this.
And you start talking to people.
They can almost taste the crazy.
Because they sort of take a step back,
like you're going to explode into some crazy-person rage,
or worse,
that they're going to shake your hand, and you can actually catch the crazy.
I promise I am not contagious.
But it truly is really interesting to watch that interaction.
Because for whose of you who don't suffer,
life with depression and anxiety is weird.
I think I mentioned that word before, it's really weird.
And I got the double bonus package of both.
So I've lived with depression,
and I still live today with generalized anxiety disorder.
There's something really interesting about waking up,
and the world is grey ...
and "staticky."
And you don't much care what's happening around you.
The best word I have for it is "numb."
And the dichotomy of anxiety is that this room,
once upon a time,
would have been my biggest fear.
Because you are all strangers that I don't know,
that could judge me at any moment for the things that I suffer from
that are not within my control.
So transcending these illnesses
is really more
than just treating the symptoms.
We have to talk about it.
Mental illness wins
when we allow it to stay in the shadows.
It wins when we refuse to shine a light on those places
and make it okay for people to share what they're going through.
And I have to tell you,
when it comes to sharing, I know of judgment.
Because it's not just the "I'm going to catch your crazy."
I am astounded
by the very well-meaning people
who have really great advice for me.
So when you start sharing about things like,
"Yes, I've suffered with depression since I was 18,"
they go, "Do you know what you need?"
(Laughter)
"You need a Hugh Grant movie and to put on your pajamas,
and you need to eat a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream,
and you'll feel better in no time."
Or "put some lavender oil on your pillows" or "put some incense out in the house,"
or "go take a walk" or "run" or "cuddle with your dog,"
as if these things are switches we can flip.
One of the biggest fallacies about mental illness
is that it's something that can actually just be changed
with an attitude adjustment.
My anxiety is my favorite because I get people saying,
"Oh honey, I had a bad day too.
The printer jammed,
and my boss was an ass, and I know all about being anxious
because, gee, I get nervous when I do things too."
And I want to say,
"Did you spend four days in your house
because you didn't have the mental fortitude to leave, take a shower,
or do anything but cry on the floor of your kitchen?
I didn't think so."
So as well-meaning as that advice is, there's only one way to combat it.
And that's through education.
And education in books, libraries, and science is fantastic.
The medical community is making gigantic strides
towards understanding mental illness and treating mental illness.
I am still treated today
through medication and a combination of therapy, that works for me.
So I'm amazed at the progress that we've made
in the 20 years since I've been dealing with this.
But what we still haven't conquered
is the stigma.
And we must!
If we're ever going to break out
of the idea that mental illness is the fault of the people who have it,
we're going to do it by talking,
by sharing our stories with one another.
I know there's people in this room that, right now, are looking at me,
saying, "That's me. I'm her."
And to those of you who are living with this,
and those who love people who are living with this,
you are courageous.
And we need you to keep fighting.
To those of you who have miraculously never been touched by mental illness -
and I'm going to guess that that's no one in this room -
we need your voices.
We need you to fight with us
because we cannot do this alone.
This is a prevalent disease,
and by disease I mean all of those diseases.
Hundreds of millions of people, every year,
are diagnosed with some form of mental illness.
A fraction of them get treatment,
a tiny fraction.
So many of them drown in their illness,
slipping quietly away, and we never know.
And, tragically, we lose one person every 40 seconds to suicide,
largely because they've never gotten treatment for the mental illness
that took them.
The number one reason people cite for not getting treatment
is stigma.
We are so afraid of what people are going to think,
what they're going to say,
and how they're going to judge us that we don't talk.
I do a lot of work in social media.
My day job keeps me on the internet more than most people.
Sometimes I actually work.
And if social media has taught me anything in all these years,
it's that everyone can have a voice.
Everyone does have a voice,
a powerful one.
And we can absolutely shatter
the stereotypes that we have built around mental illness
by opening up about them.
We can right the wrongs that we've already created.
We can rise up against the things that threaten us, that frighten us.
We together can make an enormous difference
in the lives of people that suffer,
simply by being willing to do this,
and stand up there bravely and give an identity to our illness.
One of the things that terrified me when I was diagnosed
was that being diagnosed meant it was real;
it meant that I actually had this disease.
And the symptoms of things like depression and anxiety are really generic.
You don't sleep, you have nightmares, you feel kind of lousy all the time.
And it's really easy to sort of say, "I don't have this. This isn't real."
But diagnosing it and talking about it makes it not only real,
but it makes it accessible.
And it makes it something that people will be less frightened to talk about,
less frightened to see in other people.
So if I had the opportunity to go back today
and talk to that 19-year-old woman on the floor of her shower,
I'd tell her a few very important things.
One is that I'd tell her that I love her,
and that I will fight for her.
I will tell her that she is not alone,
and that there are people around her that want to help her very much,
but that they have no idea how much she is hurting.
I would tell her that there's more to life than your disease.
You are not owned by it; you are not defined by it.
And that there is help.
I would tell her that it's okay
to talk, to ask, to be afraid.
I would tell her it's not okay
for her to sit there and believe that she is worthless.
When we go through these things ourselves,
it's really difficult to step outside of it
and say, "I might have done something differently."
But I would tell that girl, today, that she needed to speak up,
even if her voice shakes.
Whether or not that's transcendence,
I couldn't tell you.
I think it's a sort of crooked, uncomfortable acceptance
that you come to terms with over time,
but never alone.
So I'm here today to ask all of you to use your voices too.
To stand up and talk with, for, and about the people that you know and love
that suffer from mental illness.
And if you are that person, you are not alone.
And we need your voice.
Because the danger in all of this is not in exposing our fear
or our shame or our struggle,
the danger instead is in keeping our silence.
Thank you.
(Applause) (Cheers)
Host: Thank you, Amber.
Amber, before you go -
(Applause)
Thank you.
(Applause)
We honor your courage.
(Applause)
(Laughter)
I just want to say before I let you go that we are so happy
that you ditched the PowerPoint,
and you ditched the video -
AN: No offense to anybody who have PowerPoints.
Host: Not at all!
But there are some stories that are so authentic
and best told in the way that you did, so thank you so much.
AN: Thank you so much.
(Applause)