There are many things fundamentally wrong with the way we treat mental illness in today's society. The world is full of stigma and stereotypes, people are discouraged from getting the help they need, people share pictures calling suicidal people weak and antidepressants bullshit , and people even feel comfortable using debilitating mental illness as blase adjectives in day to day life ("I like to have my pens a certain way, so I have OCD!", "I swear, she looks anorexic").
Even in the movement to break the stigma surrounding mental illness, there are many things wrong with our approach. We could talk about the influx of people self-diagnosing, the urge to share triggering information (such as eating disorder low weights/behaviors or images of self harm), or the focus on the 'palatable' mental illnesses (namely, how it's easy to support the mentally ill when they're behaving neurotypically, but once someone has a meltdown/psychotic episode/acts on a compulsion, people lose the desire to support them).
However, one of my least favorite features of modern mental illness advocacy is a new focus on what people are calling "high functioning" mental illness. If you've been lucky enough to avoid this rhetoric, this term refers to people who 'seem to have it all together' and 'don't look depressed'. Essentially, people with high functioning mental illness are those people I mentioned earlier who are behaving neurotypically in front of others, but confront their mental illness when alone.
As someone with mental illness (not straight up depression, but a wonderful (sarcasm) cocktail of bipolar 1, generalized anxiety disorder, and OCD), this term really grinds my gears because it is creating a hierarchy to mental illness. The name 'high functioning mental illness' implies that the people who are 'high functioning' are fundamentally better than those deemed 'low functioning' --that they have some sort of willpower or strength that those silly 'low functioning' people who can't get out of bed or practice personal hygiene, or interact with others don't have.
Functioning labels are problematic because they can separate people and remove them from the conversation entirely; if someone is too 'high functioning', they clearly can't comment on the life of 'low functioning' people because they are barely mentally ill or barely disabled, so how can they comment on the lives of people who can't even take care of themselves? On the flip side, if someone is too 'low functioning', they clearly can't be a part of this conversation because they can't even take care of themselves, how can they be trusted to advocate for themselves?
In addition, there is simply no need to differentiate in this way. It simply creates a dichotomy that separates people with similar experiences and needs. Everyone has days where they are 'high functioning' or 'low functioning'-not everyone can be perfect and 'power through' all the time, and even 'low functioning' people can take care of their responsibilities.
Finally, functioning labels can make those who may not fit the label of 'high functioning' feel even WORSE about themselves in the midst of their mental illness. Am I not good enough if I am not high functioning? If my depressive episodes lead to me missing practices and failing classes because I'm too depressed to get out of bed, not cleaning my room and living in a pile of my own dirty socks, and forgetting to shower on a regular basis, do I deserve to be in this conversation among my 'high functioning' peers? Am I not worthy of the support they continually get? I mean, clearly not -- I'm not 'high functioning' enough to deserve it.
