You Can't Say That !

Navigating the political correctness of today's world in any context is a minefield. None more so than the language of mental illness. We tiptoe on eggshells, editing our streams of thought, trying not to offend and getting ourselves tongue-tied in the process.

Therefore, I am going to divide everybody into 3 groups. Already, I am tripping over what to call everyone, so I am going to go for the easy option. Fruit. So let's meet the Apples, Oranges and Pears.

The Apples

 

You are an Apple if you do not have a diagnosed mental illness. You are also an Apple if you feel you do not struggle on any basis, diagnosed or not, with an issue such as depression or anxiety, mild OCD etc.

                                                                    

                                                                             The Oranges

You are an orange if you have felt depressed, anxious, or perhaps aware of OCD tendencies that bother you and that you probably hide. You may take occasional prescribed medication but you try very hard to be an Apple which stresses you out, and you are terrified that you might be a Pear.

The Pears

You are a Pear if you are in my club ! Hurrah and welcome ! It has all gone pear-shaped for us at some point and most of us have done time on the psych ward. We have an official diagnosis, lots of medication, and there's really no hiding our illness although we may not exactly advertise it on billboards. We are officially bipolar, depressed, schizophrenic and everything in-between.

Now that we have that sorted and yes, of course you can be cross-breed of any of the above as you see fit, we can continue. Let's have an English lesson. The Pears get top billing.

The Mentally Ill

This is generally agreed to be the most widely accepted and correct term for the Pears. But nobody uses formal, correct terminology all the time. In the same way that we don't all sit down to a meal laid out with full cutlery and napkins three times a day, we do not refer to the Pears politely and in hushed tones as “Mentally Ill”. When we refer to them in common idiomatic terms we start treading on toes and giving ammunition to the stigma police. If we talk about the mad, the mentalers, nutters, loonies, fruit-cakes, crazies, psychos, crackpots, and weirdos who are insane, unsound, unhinged, a few sandwiches short of a picnic, bananas (fruit again!) deranged and utterly bonkers then it's easy to get into hot water.

But what do the Pears call themselves? Well, anything we like. We bear the cross, we'll park it where we choose. Pears, particularly the out-and-proud Pears, seem to delight in the use of any manner of comic or derogatory language before all and sundry. This divides all the fruit into diverse opinion. Many apples and oranges are perhaps a bit bemused. They may use the same terms in private but “You can't say that!” in public. I know that some feel that it's unfair that different rules apply to the Pears in this context. 

Ironically the blatant use of non-PC terms by the Pears can actually alienate Apples and Oranges in their understanding of them. Perhaps because they don't see how one would refer to themselves that way or it might just make them plain uncomfortable. But sometimes, it puts the other fruit at ease. But then, funnily enough, the Pears are divided on this issue too. Some Pears feel unhappy and misrepresented. They feel that it is self-stigmatising and adds to the problematic issue of stigma in the wider world. For others, it is a release and often a means of bonding with our “tribe”, but even this is not true for all. There really is an ongoing issue for all Pears with the language of mental illness. No-one can please all fruit all the time.

We all know the public use of stigmatising and offensive language is a hot topic. It is traumatic for the slandered and those discriminated against and it lies at the root of that dangerous beast – herd mentality. Running with the hare and running with the hounds to keep onside with one's peers accounts for a huge proportion of expressed opinion. Human evolution favours the social chameleon. So herd mentality will sweep up the undecided and give the timid a cool gang to hang out with. That's fine if we're in high school keeping up with trending boy bands, but it's a different story when someone is bullied with words.

All Fruit are very sensitive souls and bruise easily. Pears more so I think, because it is our sensitivity which often has triggered us into our diagnosis. Perhaps the Apples have tougher skin, or just healthier and more balanced emotional boundaries. Oranges subdivide into far too many segments as as far as their skin thickness, peel-ability and whatnot goes and my fruit metaphor is in danger of letting me down at any second.

I know a lot of Pears use comic and crazy terms as a coping mechanism. It is a defence. As my mother said, you either have to laugh or cry. We feel we have so much to cry about that given half a chance to laugh we will, and laugh as hard as we can. We will give laissez-faire to the Apples and Oranges to join us in doing so - but beware! Danger ! Our emotional sensitivities change with the breeze and what we laughed along with on Tuesday might send us into floods of tears on Friday afternoon. How will you know when it's OK to call us mental and laugh with us and when it isn't ? You won't. Nor will we. Because at some level it always hurts really, no matter who says it. That is because it isn't actually the words that are the problem. Rotting fruit by any other name would still be stinky. It is our illness that we hate.

Briefly, I must just mention the wonderful members of life's fruit salad who advocate that “illness” is not present in the equation, only “difference”. There is no septic or infected tissue, no organic disease and where indeed is the physical location of the mind? I thank them, for to me, this reinforces my personal crusade against my illness. I ride out towards it sometimes like a knight with a lance and bellow “ I am not ill ! ” But the knight charging back at me from the other direction is my mirror image, and she most certainly has been. Often. And the severity of my experiences warrant the term “illness”. It dignifies and qualifies them for, if I try and think of myself as “not ill”, where do I file and categorise my odysseys in hell? In my recovery and positive times however “different” feels more comfortable. Whatever you want to call me, I'm a quirky Pear.

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The GLORIOUS cartoons in this article are the creations of the talented Toin Adams who actually drew them specially for me. For this, and her wonderful fruitiness,  I give her thanks,