Mental illness | Theo Bennett | TEDxBozeman

This talk was given at a local TEDx event, produced independently of the TED conferences.
Theo Bennett shares his insight regarding living with a loved one with a mental illness. He proposes a more sensible approach for how society in general and each of us in particular could take a new fresh look at these patients.

My dad called me
from Seattle last spring,

telling me about
his new ground-breaking novel

entitled "Harry Potter goes to college,"

which would follow
the newly ripened wizard

and document his experiences,
but on an American campus.

And so, I already know
what you are thinking:

"This guy is crazy."

You are right.

In wilful ignorance, my father planned
to completely ignore copyright laws,

steal intellectual property,

but, most importantly,
make millions in the process.

And on top of this, on top of tackling

one of the most successful series
of books of all time,

he was also in the process
of writing two other memoirs,

about something that many
of us have experience with,

but yet we shy away
from talking openly about.

And that is mental illness.

You see, my dad is bipolar.

And so, while we were brainstorming
over the phone,

the static connecting our voices
from two seemingly different realities,

I once again felt the familiar weight

that accompanied
my father's bipolarity return as well.

Now, I'm obviously totally open
to the whole process,

but the first time that I was forced
to face my father's bipolarity,

I'd barely turned 12 years old.

And, as this kid, I was confused,

because my dad is already a bit manic

and so, as a 12-year old boy,
I just thought he was overly excited.

I saw him throwing himself
into every facet of human experience,

and I wanted to jump in there with him.

But granted, I wasn't around to experience
the darker side of the mania,

the hallucinations and the nights
spent in the hospital,

but I was there when it all came down.

And so, let me tell you from experience

that depression is immeasurably crippling.

The days are hazy in memory, I'll admit,

but I do remember a few details clearly:

coming home to our house
completely reorganized

by my completely unorganized dad,

and the nights spent with my ear
pressed to the floor boards

trying to listen to my father
cry softly below me,

as the fan above me did nothing
but stir the summer heat.

Hearing your father cry is an act
that kids experience all too rarely.

And so in my immaturity,
I was embarrassed and afraid of

a lot more than just the fact
that my Dad was slowly going crazy.

I had to not only face
the vulnerability in a man

who had literally
and emotionally raised me,

but also confront my own ideas

of what I thought it meant
to have a mental disorder.

Through this experience, however,
I've come to learn more about myself

and the human condition
than I'd ever thought possible.

And I'm so grateful for that,

especially because
when the inevitable call came

to extend my father's journey
for another bout with mania and depression

the second time around,

I was able to accept my father's condition
despite my own vulnerability.

You see, the fluidity of mental disorders
is what I find so fascinating.

But yet at the same time it has prevented
those very same disorders

from gaining societal acceptance
in the same way that physical illness has.

Our society is so driven
around self-improvement

that sometimes mental illness
gets confused with mental weakness.

And this is just not the case.

In talking with family and friends,
I became increasingly frustrated

by how we, as this support network
jumped to totally ineffective ways

of showing our support;
and we're all equally guilty.

We've all said: "Oh, you're so strong.

I know you can do it. Just keep
your chin up one day at a time."

And while I'm a huge advocate
of positive thinking,

just take a moment and imagine
saying that to a diabetic:

"Oh, I love you. You're so strong. Just
keep producing insulin one day at a time."

(Laughter)

It's laughable. Our current perspective
of mental disorders is laughable.

And it's not our fault.
It's just how we've been raised.

More importantly, however, our perception
of mental illness is skewed

because we understand much less about
the mechanisms and treatment

behind mental disorders
than we do of physical ones.

We just don't understand.

And this, this is what makes grappling
with a mental disorder perhaps,

one of the most difficult challenges
that one can experience.

Because even if you lived
in a perfect world, full of perfect people

who fully understood that mental illness
is just the same as physical illness,

this idea is so ingrained
into our society,

that convincing yourself
that you are not weak,

that mental illness is normal,
that you are normal

is perhaps one
of the most difficult things to do.

So, what can we do?

For starters, I want each and every one
of you right now to raise your hand,

if you know someone closely and personally
who suffers from a mental illness.

Now, take a look around.
It's not exactly surprising.

But what I want each and every one
of you to realize is that we,

as this massive support network,

can do just as much
in the way of treatment

as we can to change
our own perspectives.

And, if nothing else,

just learning more about what your friend
or loved one is suffering with

can never hurt.

Because for someone who's dealing
with mental illness, even talking openly,

eating right, and exercising can be just
as important as medication for treatment.

Again, treatment should be holistic
because we're talking about

mothers, daughters, fathers, and sons,

not just cerebral soup
that is somehow missing an ingredient.

The years between 12
and where I'm standing today

were spent marking
much more than just time.

In an effort to understand
the drastic change in my father,

I sought high school courses,
I shadowed psychiatrists,

and I read articles online;
and I learned a ton.

But not everything that I learned
was exactly reassuring.

And in order to illustrate this point,
let's briefly extend the analogy

between diabetics and those suffering
from mental illness, just one more time.

So, if you were concerned
that you are suffering with diabetes,

you walk into a doctor's office

and you are given
multiple blood work tests,

and a concrete answer
that varies by only half a percent.

Half a percent.

And yet at the same time,

if I was concerned that I'm dealing
with depression for example,

I'd walk into that same doctor's office
and I'm given what?

A questionnaire and a pamphlet.

It's 2014 and yet,
this is how we diagnose a disorder

that affects
more than 15 million Americans.

And our medications
like Prozac, Paxel, and lithium

have shown to work for many people.

But again, they're grossly inefficient

because they change the chemistry
of the brain as a whole,

as opposed to those specific pathways
that are actually affected.

What we need to do,
using American ingenuity

and the medical technology
that we do have,

is design a new generation of medications

that specifically targets those regions
that are affected, in order to get rid of

the awful side effects
of our current options.

Essentially, what I'm trying to say

is that our perspective and treatment
of mental illness should reflect

the complexity
of those disorders themselves.

Now, there are many things
that can and need to be changed

about our mental health care system,

but the bottom line
is that we, as human beings,

owe it to ourselves
to be a part of this change.

If I've learned one thing, having been
raised in a patriarchal society,

is that there is nothing more weak

than telling another man
that you truly love him.

And dad, I love you.

I believe in part that your journey
has made us the men that we are today.

We've laughed harder
for all the times spent crying,

appreciated spring for all the winters,

and marveled on mountain tops

at all the valleys
that lay below and behind us.

Through your precipitous highs
and seemingly endless lows,

we've both loved more
and been loved more.

All in all, I've just come
to the realization

of the intense beauty that exists
in an uneven balance

between mania and depression.

So call those people
who you've just raised your hand for.

And thank you.

(Applause)

Hey, hold on. Come back here. Come here.

(Applause)

It's awesome, that was awesome.

(Applause)