Hi, I’m Matt Stone, and I’m the new Lived Experience Vice Chair of Open Mental Health.
I am qualified for this position because of my lived experience of mental illness. The fact I am here, talking about my mental illness so openly, is a testament of how far I have come. I have suffered with Generalised Anxiety Disorder since I was a child. However, I have only recently challenged myself to be much more open about my condition.
A Man
As a man, in particular, society has taught me it’s not “masculine” to talk about my emotions, or to cry. I want to break that stigma and encourage others to speak up and get the help they need and deserve. When I began opening up, I found that some of my friends had similar difficulties, but just never felt able to share them with me.
A LGBTQ+ Person
I am now a proud LGBTQ+ person, but it has not always been that way. Growing up as an LGBTQ+ person, I felt so much shame in who I was. I never felt safe. I thought I deserved to be punished for who I loved. I thought I deserved to die. I thought I deserved to go to hell. I remember crying myself to sleep at night, if I could sleep at all, because of all my worries. Most nights, I went to sleep thinking I would probably not wake up, and that would be what I deserved.
In my teens, I developed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. As well as some of the stereotypical symptoms and rituals, in hindsight, it’s clear that it became a way of me feeling like I had some semblance of control over the things I worried about. It has always sounded strange – even to me – but every time I heard the word “death”, I would have to say “life”, for example. Every time I heard the word “hell”, I would have to say “heaven”. The rituals began to consume more and more of my life.
I worried that I would not be accepted by those around me because I was gay. This affected everything I did (and more importantly didn’t do). I didn’t do the things I enjoyed. I tried to force myself to like football. I hate football. I cut off close female friends because I wanted to appear more “manly”. I turned my music right down because I worried people would judge me for what I was listening too. My worries were constant and affected all my interactions with other people.
My friends and family would constantly “compliment” me on how skinny I was. I did not take this as a compliment, however. I hated myself and the way I looked. I always saw the worst in what people would say about me. I developed an obsession with the gym and my eating habits, and I would feel extremely guilty and anxious if I deviated from those habits at all.
A Solicitor
I am a solicitor. In the legal world, mental illness is still stigmatised, as it is in many workplaces. If you say you are struggling or have struggled with mental illness in the past, you are often seen as incapable of doing your job.
In the legal industry alone, 1 in 10 lawyers under 30 have had thoughts of taking their own lives because of their work. Yet, many of those lawyers still feel completely alone. Everyone around them is trying so hard to maintain that façade; wear that mask, that everything is perfect, but they are completely breaking inside.
A Human Being
I have read many reports and articles surrounding mental health. There are a few common statistics I see time and time again:
• men are more likely to commit suicide
• LGBTQ+ people are more likely to commit suicide; and
• solicitors are more likely to commit suicide
Well, in that case, it sucks to be me…!
I want to be a constant reminder, however, that each of those statistics is a human being. A human being deserving of our kindness, compassion and respect.
Tears of Pride and Joy
I have cried more in the last couple of months than in any other job. However, instead of those being tears of sadness, anxiety, stress, or depression, they have been tears of pride and joy.
I even cried during the interview for this role, when I was asked by an Expert by Experience Leader what the role meant to me. The pride I felt in that interview room, knowing that those individuals had been through what they had been through, but they were now here – I was here – thriving and bringing about positive change, is so incredible. It’s a word I used to cringe at, but it is truly inspirational.
I remember on my first day, I attended my first Partnership Board Meeting. Again, I found myself tearing up when I was hearing about the experiences of another Expert by Experience Leader. Their voice resonated with me so much. Again, I felt so much pride in her and in myself at that moment. We had both had our struggles, but we were here, thriving and trying to help others. Others who perhaps struggle to find their own voice, as we had in the past.
Feeling Heard and Understood
I recently visited one of our partners, Chard Watch, and I attended a peer group session. We inevitably spoke about some pretty difficult times we had been through. However, despite that, I left with a jaw ache from smiling so much. I felt truly heard and understood.
I heard a quote recently: “shame dies when stories are told in safe places”. The greater our reach, the greater we can amplify the power in each of our stories. We can help break the stigma surrounding mental illness. We can help others see they are not alone. We can help people see that it can and does get better. We can make this world a safer place and take away the shame that many of us have felt at some point in our lives.
I know that something as simple as me being open about taking the anti-depressant, Sertraline, has helped others. I was surprised how many people knew exactly what I meant when I said I was taking Sertraline. Yet, until then, I – and probably them too – had felt completely alone in that.
“These Services Could Have Helped Me”
At the beginning of last year, I was formally diagnosed with severe mixed anxiety and depressive disorder. I was deeply unhappy inside. I couldn’t “switch off”. I hated myself and the way I looked. I was constantly worrying and feeling anxious. I would randomly get emotional. My whole body and mind ached. I had reached such a low that I didn’t see any point in carrying on.
I was told that I required high-intensity cognitive behavioural therapy. I was given some “self-help” CBT, in the meantime, but was told I would have to wait the best part of a year to commence treatment.
Having visited some of our partners already, and seeing the amazing work you are all doing, it has made me stop and think “these services could have helped me”. I have no doubt that in those many months of waiting for treatment, many of our services could have helped break the social isolation I felt. They could have helped me get some form of exercise when I had no motivation to do so. They could have helped me see that I was not alone, and there was no shame in what I was going through.
Even before I reached my lowest point, I see the work of partners like 2BU and Young Somerset, and I have thought “maybe I could have got back on track much sooner” before things escalated in the way they did.
Learning to Love, and Feel Proud of, Myself
I learned so many things in therapy, which I wish I had been taught as a child. I slowly started to learn to value myself and to treat myself as an equal to others. I learned to be more forgiving of myself. That it is ok to say “no” without feeling guilty. To know where my responsibility for things ends. To think about my worries logically and see there are potentially positive outcomes rather than the negative ones I catastrophised about. To see that the positive outcomes were often the most likely outcome. I learnt to be present and to enjoy life irrespective of what others might think.
I learnt a lot, but one thing, in particular, stuck with me. My therapist said: “what would you say to someone else in your situation?” Using interviews as an example, I would have told anyone else that they were amazing, and would do a great job, but it was not the end of the world if they did not get the job either. There were plenty of opportunities out there and it was about finding the best opportunity for them as well. Previously, I would tell everyone else this, but I would not give myself the same kindness. Instead, I would worry that the interviewers would think negatively of me, that I would not get the job and that it would be the end of the world.
These principles I learnt in therapy were quite simple. The difficult part was changing a mindset I had built up, and reinforced, over two decades.
I am slowly learning to love, and feel proud of, myself. Pride is such a powerful emotion, but it’s not an emotion I have felt at all until recently.
I know my younger self did not love or feel proud of himself. He hated himself. I know, however, that my younger self would be so proud that I am here, writing this, today. I am proud of him, too. For fighting on like he did for so long.
I am not going to get all those years of my life back. What we can make sure, however, is that as few people in Somerset as possible suffer in the way I did for so long.