It is often said that we are in a mental illness epidemic. Such language is sensationalist, but there is no denying that the world in which we live doesn’t always seem designed to facilitate psychological wellbeing. One in four of us will experience mental illness in our lifetimes, and the conversation around it is increasingly open. For my generation, there is far less shame attached to “admitting” that you have experienced anxiety and depression (though it is worth noting that there are other mental health conditions that are far more stigmatised), or have seen a therapist, or are taking medication. This can only be a good thing, and when I suffered my own bouts of mental illness – two episodes of post-traumatic stress disorder in my twenties – I was moved but not surprised by how many friends and relatives opened up about their own struggles.
There was one part of life, however, where I did feel that historical stigma, and that was when I was weighing up whether or not to become a parent. Parenthood, after all, would mean being totally responsible for the life and wellbeing of a child, and I was haunted by the idea that I might negatively impact that child’s life were I to become unwell again.
