Letter to Mental Health Hotlines: What Happens When You’re Silent?

“I was anxious and scared and have a history of self harm, but you did something worse.”

Dear Mental Health Hotlines in India,

I live with Bipolar (disorder). Type 2 to be specific. I'm on medication for it and undergoing therapy for the many other psychosocial issues I have along with it - two sexual assaults, childhood sexual abuse, substance abuse - mine and the lingering effects of having grown up with parents who both had drinking problems, and, as a 25-year-old, the various existential issues that accompanies this odd age.

Most of the time, it's hard and I feel as if the only thing I have expertise in is in falling apart over and over again. But make no mistake, the consequence of every hurdle and disappointment has only made me more empathetic and while I'm great at falling apart, I've also mastered the art of rearranging my broken pieces.

Too caught up to read? Listen to the story:

In May 2017, I was sexually assaulted. Well, sexual assault is a kinder, perhaps more politically correct way of calling rape what it is. A friend was the perpetrator of this violence. At that time, a massive heartbreak from a pretty serious and long term relationship had rendered me helpless and my judgement clouded. I had been 'sleeping around' and also had a problem with alcohol which meant I was drinking from the time I woke up till the time I passed out.

If this wasn't enough, I was still struggling to come to terms with an illness that seemed to warrant out of me a responsibility that felt imposing and intrusive. I reached out to you then. I was frightened and frightening, but not stupid. I knew that my support system was not equipped to deal with the trauma that I had faced, and I also knew that this was such bad timing, personally and professionally, not just for me, but for everyone who cared about me.

Most people don't sign up to address these issues and a majority of my friends fell in that category. But you did. And I did. Oh, just by the way, I'm also a mental health practitioner.

My education and life so far has ensured dignity for me and to take it one step further, privilege too, not in preventing violence, but in ensuring that I had the resources and skills to deal with social issues, most of which for me included my health.

I'm grateful for it especially because I reached out to you once again, in August. Again, all I heard was the deafening sound of rejection that comes with silence. I'm privileged that I have the tools, which include the financial, emotional, physical and mental abilities required to deal with this on my own. Today, however, my call history will reveal frantic efforts to once again get in touch with you.

Call it what you want - manic, suicidal, depressive, desperate, whatever suits your vocabulary, the call history remains unchanged and the results of my attempt, futile. An operator telling me that despite trying for two hours, you're still unreachable - a silence that is filled with shame and feelings of utter and complete despair and rejection.

Numbers that no longer exist. I was anxious and scared and have a history of self-harm, something my therapist gets an earful of every week (he was unavailable today), but you did something worse. Gave me hope when there was none. I'm sorry that I didn't resort to the option of writing to you.

Perhaps you're not aware that anxiety can take away the capacity to frame an email. Or anxiety, in my case, could manifest as the fear that someone from my network will open that email and my identity will be further compromised.

You don't owe me an answer for being unprofessional and unethical with claims that border on medical malpractice. See, I understand the stresses of the job. You do, however, owe the many other people you provide hope to, an explanation.

If me, someone deeply involved in mental health advocacy and policies can have such a harrowing experience not once, but multiple times, I fear what it may be like to the ones less privileged. So please, don't claim to be available 24X7 if you're not. If you're going to be unavailable during certain hours, update your website. Be clear what kind of help you are willing to provide and to whom.

Put big, bold disclaimers, because the one thing that has helped me the most is honesty. Good intentions are hard to live up to, but not impossible. You're not responsible for the outcome, but you are responsible for services that you claim to provide. And the organisations that provide these resources are too. I hope this letter is used as an opportunity to be better and change, not discourage or dishearten both service providers and users.

Sincerely,
The Other Line on the Phone

(The identity of the author has been withheld on request. This is a personal blog and the views expressed above are the author’s own. FIT neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)