John Fetterman is a test case in how we talk and think about mental illness
John Fetterman is a test case in how we talk and think about mental illness
How will we respond?
On Thursday afternoon, John Fetterman’s office announced the Pennsylvania Senator is suffering from depression — and is seeking inpatient care to treat it.
“On Monday, John was evaluated by Dr. Brian P. Monahan, the Attending Physician of the United States Congress,” said Fetterman’s chief of staff Adam Jentleson. “Yesterday, Dr. Monahan recommended inpatient care at Walter Reed. John agreed, and he is receiving treatment on a voluntary basis. After examining John, the doctors at Walter Reed told us that John is getting the care he needs, and will soon be back to himself.”
This is, as far as I know, the first time a sitting senator has publicly admitted that he is struggling with depression. And, as such, represents a litmus test for how we, societally, talk and think about mental illness — among our elected leaders and ourselves.
We are not that far removed, societally speaking, from categorizing people struggling with anxiety and depression (and other mental illnesses) as “crazy.” A few decades ago, family members who were battling mental illness were sent away — never to be talked about or heard from again.
In 1972, the Missouri Sen. Tom Eagleton was forced to drop out as George McGovern’s vice presidential running mate because he failed to disclose that he had been treated for depression and had been administered electroshock therapy.
My father was part of that generation of men — who never spoke about their feelings, who viewed any instability or struggle as a sign of weakness or effeminacy. As a result, it took him far too long to seek help for his depression. And by the time he did, the pathways in his brain that led him down the depressive road were too well established. Getting himself to think differently didn’t work — or didn’t work as well as it might have had he sought help earlier in his life.
My dad suffered as a result of that stigma. Mightily. He was unhappy most days, with himself and with the world.
And yet, when, in my early 20s, I started to struggle with anxiety, I was loathe to seek out professional help. I was just starting off in my career and worried what it would look like if someone found out I was seeing a psychologist to deal with (at times) crippling anxiety.
I also spent a fair amount of time beating myself up over feeling the way I felt — that it was somehow a judgement on me and I had failed some sort of test.
I eventually sought help but, even as I did, I was still mindful of the stigmas that I perceived went along with mental health problems. I would NEVER dream of telling anyone I was going to see a psychiatrist. Instead, I would say something vague like “I have a doctor’s appointment” or “I have to run to a meeting.”
And this wasn’t the 1950s. This was the early 2000s!
Over the ensuing years, I’ve become more and more comfortable talking and writing about my own struggles — and that of my family. Mostly because the worst feeling in the world is thinking you are the only one dealing with these things. If one person reads something I write and realizes we are all — or a lot of us — involved in this same struggle, it’s worth it.
And, the data shows that lots and lots of Americans are not in a great place with their mental health. This stat, for one, is alarming:
And this, from a CDC report released on Monday, is sobering:
“Nearly three in five teenage girls felt persistent sadness in 2021, double the rate of boys, and one in three girls seriously considered attempting suicide, according to data released on Monday by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.”
We have a mental health crisis in this country. Period. And not talking about it or stigmatizing those who are suffering amid it isn’t going to make things better — and very likely will make it worse.
We need to start thinking about mental illness in the same way we think about physical illness.
If Fetterman broke his leg skiing and had to be hospitalized, no one would suggest that he might not be up to his duties as a US Senator. No one would judge him as weak or incapable. We would just file it away as a skiing accident and think no more about it.
THAT is exactly how we need to learn to treat mental illness too. Depression is a condition that can be treated. People get better — and go on to do great things with their lives. Sometimes they battle depression again. Or many times.
The point is that depression is no more a commentary on your character or abilities than a broken leg is. They are both simply conditions to be treated — nothing more and nothing less.
Can we, societally, accept that fact? Or are we still caught in an outmoded era of name calling and stigmatization that masks a very real problem underneath?
John Fetterman is getting the treatment he needs to get better. The question is whether we can improve our own way of thinking and talking about mental illness — in the public square and outside of it.
Thank you for this writing, Chris.
For those of us who have struggled with the "Black Dog" appreciate your putting this issue straight forward.
For those younger than dirt probably don't realize that cancer was seen as a "weakness" prior to the 1970s.
Fifty years later, mental illness" is still considered so, although it has come a long way since then.
We all wish Mr. Fetterman the best in returning to health and adding his talents to the Senate.
Thanks so much for your story and surfacing the issues we have around this issue. John Fetterman should be commended for seeking the treatment he needs and risking the blowback that will follow from some quarters. Hoping the questions you raise about how we tend to see people who seek help for mental illness will be seriously considered.