I am a psychiatrist, which means I am a mental health professional, which means I work with people with mental illness. Sometimes people with mental health conditions who suffer from mental illness need to take a day off work – also called a mental health day – because they are too symptomatic to work, and sometimes people who don’t have a mental illness need to take a day off work, also called a mental health day, because they are feeling stressed.
Sometimes professional athletes don’t do things they agreed to do in their contracts because they realize that doing these things is very upsetting and will be detrimental to their mental health, or maybe they have a mental illness and doing these things will worsen their mental health condition, which is, in fact, a mental illness. Other times people with mental health conditions need to have pets travel with them because this mitigates the symptoms of their mental illness or perhaps it’s just good for their mental health. And finally, some people suffer from mental illnesses, or sometimes from learning problems, which are severe enough that a person with these conditions has a disability and needs special accommodations to function optimally in educational or occupational settings, or needs public financial support because their difficulties disable them to the point that they can’t work at all.
Is your head spinning yet?who we serve, and differentiating the fact that what someone with a psychiatric disorder needs to do to function or to alleviate emotional suffering may be entirely different from the things that everyone needs to do, regardless of whether they have a psychiatric disorder, to feel their emotional best.
Thetells us that one in five Americans are suffering from a mental illness, while the revealed that half of people will meet criteria for a mental illness at some point in their lives. We hear about “the mentally ill” constantly in the news – often in relation to mass shooters or homelessness – yet even psychiatrists might be pressed to define who exactly the “mentally ill” are. And how many of us could not somehow, at some time, find ourselves in 1 of the 157 disorders that DSM-5 lists – down from 365 disorders in the DSM-IV-TR?
Differentiating mental health from mental illness is just the beginning of our semantic confusion. As psychiatrists we treat major depression, and yet the illness “depression,” a syndromic constellation of symptoms, includes the key symptom of sadness. People often say they are “depressed” when they mean they are sad or demoralized, and yet, if their sadness persists in the absence of other symptoms, they may well want, or feel they “should” have medications, even in the absence of a disorder. And maybe those medications help them feel better, so that the presence or absence of a verified illness doesn’t really matter. But if the medications cause adverse reactions, then psychiatry might have done a better job by that person’s sadness. Melancholia, or perhaps any designation than “depression,” with its multiple meanings, might better serve our patients and our profession. This is only one example, as the number of people who tell me they have obsessive-compulsive disorder – or more often announce, “I’m OCD!” because they are well organized in a productive way is remarkable. And while I have treated only a few people who meet the criteria for narcissistic personality disorder, from general conversation it would seem that they are at every dinner table and by every water cooler.
Does it matter? A diagnostic lexicon can be so helpful when it guides treatment, provides a heterogeneous group of patients for research studies, and allows for an understanding of the etiology, course, and prognosis of a given condition. When someone is so depressed that they can’t get out of bed, or is so disorganized that they can’t perform their job and might cause a disturbance in their workplace, it is good to instruct them to take time off work and send them back well with a doctor’s note. But this is different from the person who doesn’t want to face a difficult situation, who simply doesn’t like their job or their boss, or who wants their pet declared an emotional support animal to avoid the fee the airlines charge to bring an animal on board if one does not have a psychiatric diagnosis. Sometimes these lines are blurry – if someone does not want to do something because it makes them anxious, does it matter how deep the pit in their stomach is, or if they are having full-blown panic attacks? When do we agree that their distress is reason to allow them to avoid responsibilities without repercussions versus a violation of their obligations and an infringement on others?
Diagnoses offer solace to some patients: There is a name for their suffering, available treatment, and often others with the same condition to look to for guidance and community. For others, a psychiatric diagnosis is a source of shame, a label they see as damaging to their character and sometimes to their careers – including in medicine – where we have been particularly unsympathetic to those who announce a psychiatric history.
In some cultures, the label itself decreases someone’s attractiveness as a potential marriage partner. We would all like to see the stigma of mental illness vanish, but we have a long way to go.
Psychiatric diagnoses move over time and with our politics and culture. This is good; we don’t hold on to what we learn to be untrue. But they may well add to issues of inequity. Those who can afford to pay for expensive educational assessments can request educational accommodations, including untimed standardized tests. This advantage may not be available to those without the resources to pay for these evaluations, and one might wonder why all comers can’t take untimed tests so as not to favor the privileged. Psychiatry has long been accused of diagnosingwith poor prognosis illnesses and women with conditions that imply emotional weakness.
While our diagnoses have clinical utility, it is unfortunate that they have come to be about reimbursement. A diagnosis needs to be assigned for insurers to pay for care, and so we create diagnostic categories to allow for treatment. Is this reasonable? Do we need to say that someone who is suffering after the death of a loved one has a mental illness in order to allow them to seek relief from their suffering? It leads us to believe that all suffering is about pathology, that we should expect pain-free emotional lives. Perhaps we need a diagnostic category of psychic pain, not otherwise specified, to allow for treatment for those who simply ache.
Mental illness is about interventions to alleviate the suffering of those with disorders. Mental health is about interventions that may benefit everyone, whether they suffer from a mental illness or not. Sleep, nutrition, exercise, sunlight, nature, entertainment and escape, yoga, meditation, vacations in beautiful places with loving people – these are things that potentially help us all whether we do or do not have an illness. With so much confusion about what it is we do, and about who “should” get help, who can get help, who might want help, and where they should go to seek help, perhaps it would be better if our lingo were more precise.
Dr. Miller is coauthor of “Committed: The Battle Over Involuntary Psychiatric Care” (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2016). The has a private practice and is assistant professor of psychiatry ad behavioral sciences at Johns Hopkins University, both in Baltimore. She has no disclosures.