Mental health is considered a taboo topic in many cultures. Being of Vietnamese-Chinese descent, my family and the members of my culture do not talk about mental health often. In fact, more often than not, talking about mental health is considered a joke and is ridiculed when brought up at all. This stigma created my inherent bias against going to therapy.
In my experience, most Asian cultures consider mental illnesses or struggles with mental health as a sign of weakness. Younger generations are called out by older generations for being “too sensitive” or “too dramatic,” and these constant invalidations stick with us and carry over to how we interact with the world and with ourselves. We second guess our feelings because we have developed this stigma around what mental health means about a person.
Growing up, I had a really difficult time dealing with depression and social anxiety, and when I moved to an entirely different state in the middle of a pandemic, it quickly blossomed into this new beast that I realized I couldn’t handle. I would invalidate my own feelings, preach “I’m fine,” and tell myself that I wasn’t depressed and didn’t have anxiety because no medical professional had diagnosed me. I hated confiding in anyone when I was feeling down, especially my family. It became a full-time job pretending I was okay to my nosy (well-intentioned) family just so that they could feel comfort in sending their oldest and only daughter off to a brand new state and school. Every day I would be engulfed in my thoughts; I was exhausted from the moment I woke up until the moment I went to bed. It felt like things would never get better and that I truly made a mistake coming out here.
It took my boyfriend and my best friend telling me over and over to try therapy to finally look for help. Despite the media’s positive light on taking one’s mental health into their own hands, it wasn’t enough to keep the inherent bias I grew up with from flooding into my head.
“What if my family finds out and makes fun of me?”
“I’m just being dramatic. Nobody else needs it, what makes me so special?”
“Talking about feelings is weak and I do not want to admit I can’t do this on my own.”
“Everyone has bad days. Get over yourself.”
I hated that I constantly gave into this bias. I hated that I preached getting help to my friends, but was too scared to do it myself. Unlearning this bias was and still is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.
But I have taken the first step. I started therapy. Yes, it’s therapy that none of my family knows about, but it’s still therapy. I don’t see myself coming forward about starting therapy any time soon but I hope to be able to eventually. Despite it being a small step, it’s truly made a difference in my mental well-being. Unlearning the inherent bias against getting help in my culture has been one of the most rewarding things I have done. It does not mean I am weaker than anyone else in my culture, and it does not mean I am being dramatic. My feelings are valid, and so is my culture. The only way to move forward with unlearning an inherent bias is to help others feel more comfortable with the idea of it. If my experience encourages you to move forward with getting help, that’s the best win I could ask for.