For Us By Us: Life as a young, neurodivergent Nigerian
#MentalHealthAwarenessWeek
Written by
Tami Makinde - 14.May.2021
As we all know, conversations surrounding mental health are far from an accurate representation of what actually is. Given society’s codes and cultural beleifs, there is heavy stigma against people who are living with mental disabilities, especially when it comes to the point of needing and seeking help. According to the World Health Organisation, one in four people is dealing with a different mental health issue, however, access to the right psychological and medical care is not easily obtainable for these people.
In a country with an estimated population of over 200 million people, these figures are steep when you also take into consideration the dearth of medical facilities focusing on the mental health and psychological needs of patients. According to reports, there are only eight federal neuropsychiatric hospitals in the country which are severely underfunded, understaffed, and inadequately managed to treat the country’s neurodivergent citizens.
This is dangerous for those who live with this reality, as untreated illnesses are more likely than not to worsen and aggravate over time, leaving many people vulnerable to the harsh realities of navigating a neurotypical world whilst neurodivergent. For many young people, it can take years before they receive any substantial mental health diagnosis, which could either be due to their own fear of what’s going on with them, or a fear to share e their struggles with a world that constantly chooses to misunderstand them.
That’s why this Mental Health Awareness Week, we are fostering and encouraging the difficult conversations about our struggles with mental health to make it easier for ourselves and those closest to us to heal holistically. One member of our community admits that she was ashamed of her mental illness for so long because it made her feel weak especially in comparison with her mother who society had labelled strong. However, she kept spiraling and working through countless depressive episodes before plucking up the courage to seek out help from those closest to her. Like many of her peers, she had used unhealthy avoidance tactics to temporarily solve the problem, which didn’t gain desired effect. So rather than speculate and guess, we decided to hear directly from the people within our community, and they’ve kindy shared what it’s really like to be living with a mental illness in a country like Nigeria.
With the new Lagos state tele-therapy services called ‘The Lagos Helpline’ being rolled out in the past week, we decided to speak to 5 young Nigerians about their experiences living with mental health disabilities in Lagos.
I have been diagnosed with a generalised anxiety disorder for about 10 years now. In 2011 when I was 17, I had my first depressive episode, and I’ve been on this journey since then. My symptoms have existed for long before I was diagnosed, pretty much for as long as I’ve known myself, but I didn’t have the correct language to express how I felt. It took me a while to open up fully about what was going on with me, because it took me a while to accept it myself. I’m only starting to see the beauty in the way my mind works and seeing that rather than something that holds me back, it gives me a unique perspective. I haven’t always welcomed that unique perspective, and society, in general, doesn’t welcome anything that’s divergent from the norm, so I lived in a constant battle for a few years.
D, 26, F.
I was formally diagnosed with anxiety and depression disorder in November 2018, but I had symptoms up to two years before then. I was ashamed for so long because I felt weak for having this illness. I grew up seeing my mom navigate life as a single parent in a country as difficult as Nigeria so I always felt that if she could be so strong, then I had no excuse coming out to say I was struggling. A really bad episode in between 2017 and 2018 forced me to seek professional help. I dissociated myself from everyone I knew and attempted suicide twice and the fact I had reached that point scared me so much.
I still feel ashamed and scared to tell my family that I go to therapy and am on antidepressants, my default attitude when having an episode is to disconnect from them but it’s definitely improving everyday. I also think the Lagos Helpline is a good first step but how many people really have access to this information? I also do not trust anything the Nigerian government is involved in, what are the terms with regards to confidentiality and are there strict enforceable penalties laid out for breaking it? The fact that mental health is being acknowledged as an illness requiring a tele-mental health service is actually a really positive development, I’d like to see how it is being handled over a period of time.
V, 27, F.
I haven’t been formally diagnosed with any mental disabilities, but I have suspected for a long time that I am neurodivergent. When I moved away from home for the first time, I soon realised that I struggled with my identity and I had to confront my suicidal ideations for the very first time. I soon realised I needed to get better but right now, my family is unable to afford treatment. Because of this, my relationship with my parents is very strained. We don’t get on very well because they choose to misunderstand me and have said in the past that my perceived mental health struggles were an attention-seeking tactic. However, I’ve almost taken my life before so I know this is very serious. I’m happy to have friends who have been diagnosed before as they help me navigate life without a certified diagnosis.
I think the Lagos Helpline will be a fantastic opportunity but I also worry about the ways in which things could go horribly wrong. It’s similar to the helpline for COVID-19 last year. How many people reasonably were able to access the care that they needed in time? It’s scary to think that these initiatives are just for eye service when so many people in Nigeria are struggling. I definitely commend the effort but I won’t be using the service until I see some stellar reviews.”
E, 24, M.
I’ve been diagnosed with depression, anxiety and borderline personality disorder for a year now. Last year, I tried to take my own life for the very first time and it alarmed my parents so much that they sent me to a rehabilitation facility. It’s been bad in my head for a while now but it got to a point that I could no longer hide it from my parents or my friends. I’m kinda happy that I know what’s wrong with me now because, for several years, I was using sex, alcohol and drugs to numb the pain.
With regards to the Lagos Helpline, I’m glad that the government is taking a step in the right direction to offer its citizens some form of help. However, I think there’s a lot more they can be doing. Ever so often, I see people clearly showing symptoms of a mental illness on the streets of Lagos and they are labelled mad and crazy by everyone. They are also mistreated and endlessly arrested or detained for displaying these symptoms in public. I wish more care were extended to those people.
A, 26, M.
I’ve been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder & recurring depressive disorder for two years. I was first diagnosed with depression at 17, then it was mild depression, but I recently had (or am having ? Lol) a severe depressive episode & it’s during this period that I was given the recurring depressive disorder diagnosis. I’m definitely not a great example of how to do life as a neurodivergent, but I guess that I’m doing it at all is a step in the right direction.
I’m lucky, blessed and privileged to have a great support system and access to medical healthcare and significantly more comfortable life than most Nigerians, so those aspects of being in Nigeria, I am really lucky I can avoid. But the constant insecurity and financial dire straits are big stress factors for me. The ignorant people and judgemental attitudes also annoy me a lot, makes me down and fuels hopelessness. I guess I’m lucky people notice and lucky I haven’t gone to the point of no return before they do. I do talk about my mental health though. It’s part of my life, I don’t care if it makes anyone uncomfortable. I’m really used to making people uncomfortable, it’s a thing that people with BPD often do, so the taboo doesn’t bother me. I just don’t like asking for help.”
W, 23, F.
Featured image credits/NATIVE
