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Cover image by Tom Davies

Two years ago, my doctor signed me off work for depression. I was working for a major news organisation at the time, and even though I received the sick note on Friday afternoon, I turned up for my 6:00 am Saturday shift because I didn’t know what to say to my employer. 

My reluctance to take time off was compounded by the fact that, as a freelancer, I wasn’t entitled to any sick pay. Thankfully, I was living with my parents at the time, so this wasn’t a major issue for me, though many other people suffering from mental illnesses, and relying on precarious contracts, will not have the same luxury. 

Struggling to get through that early morning shift,  I eventually admitted to my producer that I wasn’t meant to be at work. He was extremely kind and understanding and sent me home immediately, promising that he would explain the situation to our manager. I took the two weeks off, but when I returned and colleagues asked me if I was feeling better, or asked me what was wrong, I made up a physical illness. 

I felt that admitting to a mental illness would suggest several things to my colleagues: that I was weak, couldn’t handle the stress of a busy newsroom, or that I was simply ‘milking’ having a bad day.  A physical illness did not demand as much explanation as a mental one, and in this case, it didn’t come with the same stigma or embarrassment. 

I’ve struggled with depression pretty consistently since the age of 18 – I’m 26 now. While I have never been able to find a concrete “cause” for these feelings, it has not gone unnoticed to me that modern society “is not good for mental health”, as one American Sociologist aptly put it. 

When my uncle was 21, he suffered a psychotic breakdown. The political backdrop of that time has always stood out to me; he’d been let go from one of Thatcher’s employment schemes, and had been working flat out to secure a job at the end, working overtime that he never saw the money for. It broke something inside of him, and he unravelled. He was diagnosed with manic depression. Now 50 years old, he’s never been able to work since and lives his life reliant on a range of medications and state benefits. 

Mental health conditions have always existed in society, they’re not a modern phenomena. However, there’s consensus among sociologists and medical practitioners alike that mental illnesses are on the rise. This has been further compounded by the pandemic, which saw many people experience periods of depression and/or anxiety, or exacerbated the impacts of pre-existing mental illnesses. 

But even before the pandemic, rates of suffering were on the rise. In a world fuelled by mass consumption and competition, there is a continual need to appear “productive”. This is true in several ways; firstly, it is particularly true for those on insecure contracts who are continually trying to prove their worth in order to justify their employment to their employers, but it’s also relevant to those who have the advantage of secure work, but are instead held hostage by social media and the pressure to evidence their success and progress. 

For example, Japan is infamous for its culture of karoshi – meaning “death from overwork” – a term coined in the 1970s to describe deaths caused by work-related stresses and pressures. Japan is also known for its high suicide rate, which has decreased in recent years due to national efforts, but increased again during the pandemic, with the number of women taking their own lives reportedly surging due to the emotional and financial stress caused by covid-19. Chillingly, suicides among Japanese children are also at a record high. 

But while overworking can have a negative impact on mental and physical health, so can the stress that comes with zero-hour contracts and unemployment. The height of the pandemic saw hospitality and retail industries shut down, with many of the people employed in this sector being largely young people on insecure contracts. 

Mental health has a bi-directional relationship with unemployment. Loss of employment can lead to stress and diminished self-esteem, while financial hardship can also trigger mental health conditions such as stress and depression, which can have knock-on impacts on physical health, too. 

The claims process, work capability testing and job search conditions further push individuals to their limits, and are again an example of modern society’s continual pressure to provide evidence of worth – whether that’s worthiness of employment, or worthiness of state welfare. I think of my uncle a lot in relation to this, reminded of the time he told me he wouldn’t have a haircut before a benefits assessment meeting because it suggested that he was too capable of looking after himself, and that he was therefore fit for work. 

It’s also important to point out that  unemployment disproportionately impacts certain groups: in January 2021, the unemployment rate was higher for young people, people from minority ethnic groups and people with low qualification levels. Academics at the University of Sheffield and University of York have also found that “Disabled workers, especially those with mental health disability, are more likely to work in part time jobs, non-permanent jobs, and in jobs with zero hours contracts”. Research also indicated that they were more likely to work in the sectors most impacted by the pandemic. 

Unemployment can trigger mental health problems, but mental health problems can also prolong unemployment, because they exacerbate the struggle of the employment seeking process and can cause individuals to become trapped in cycles of depression, low self-esteem and high levels of stress.

Work is just one fragment of a bigger picture. What we do outside of work can also have a negative impact on our mental health. While social media and the internet has no doubt had many positive impacts on our daily lives and broader society, it has well-documented links to depression and anxiety. 

With the average person checking their phone as much as 28 times a day in Britain, social media has literal physical impacts in terms of eye strain and poor sleep quality, but also contributes to a decrease in mental health. While we live in an increasingly “public” and interconnected world where people take to Instagram and Facebook to share everything from their morning coffee to the birth of their child, it’s obvious that social media does very little for our self-esteem and sense of self-worth – whether it’s comparing ourselves to others in terms of body image, job status or simply where we’re ‘at’ in our lives.

According to children’s charities, the number of teenagers seeking help for mental health problems is increasing rapidly, with young people citing reasons such as “relentless academic and social pressure” for severe anxiety disorders. The NSPCC has also said that since April 2020, anxiety has been the most prevalent issue among young people phoning its Childline counsellors regarding their mental health. This week BBC reported that in Northern Ireland, a five-year-old was one of an increasing number of children sent to a hospital emergency department by their GP, after suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts. 

Some people may point out that social media has got people opening up about mental health and sharing their experiences, but sadly, this attempt at destigmatisation doesn’t seem to translate to the real world. Furthermore, trends and hashtags around ‘mental health day’ or ‘week’ once again open up the conversation, but they’re also used by governments and employers to mask a lack of action to provide funding, services and support that could help reduce the suffering experienced by so many. 

Mental health can affect anyone and everyone – regardless of status, employment, race or religion. But it is also an inherently political issue when policy changes and years of austerity have devastated services and youth support, decimated jobs and seen deprivation rates soar. 

Mental health conditions can be linked to a specific issue like job loss or financial hardship, or to a broader picture – take the impact of climate change on young people, for example. 

As Frances Ryan has pointed out –  the Children’s Society previously linked reductions in family incomes – including benefit cuts – to “wide-ranging negative effects” on children’s mental health. 

Similar links have been made between the introduction of the “bedroom tax” in 2013, which was found to worsen mental health, and the roll-out of Universal Credit in 2019 which saw a soaring use of mental health services. The UK government’s recent axing of the £20 uplift to Universal Credit – despite the taper rate later being cut by a measly 8p due to opposition pressure and outrage from the public – means almost four million families will be worse off this Autumn. 

But what stands out more prominently than anything is that despite the government claiming to care about mental health services, many people suffering are far from getting the support they require. 

Covid-19 not only saw an increase in mental health conditions, but it also saw mental health services waiting times double in Wales. Last month, the worst ever performance figures were recorded by hospital emergency departments and ambulance services in Wales. 

The massive strain on the NHS means police are often sent to deal with mental health emergencies, which they are not best placed to do. Earlier this year in Newport, 29-year-old Mouayed Bashir died shortly after being restrained by police in his home during a mental health crisis. 

I’ve been to A&E several times during mental health crises, and I know others who have too. Our experiences are all remarkably similar, particularly in terms of the lack of on-call psychiatrists on hand to deal with mental health emergencies. This means those suffering are often forced to stay in hospital until one is available, or to simply go home. When I was in hospital last year after an overdose, it was two days until a mental health nurse was available to assess me. Even then, we had our meeting in a storeroom cupboard due to lack of available rooms. After I was discharged, I waited another 4 months for a psychiatry referral – which only arrived in the post after I chased it up with my GP. 

Mental health is extremely complex. It manifests in different ways for different people; sometimes it has a traceable cause or trigger, other times it doesn’t. But one thing is clear to me: the pressures of the modern world we live in – and the policies that dictate it – are anything but good for our mental health. Neglect is a word that comes to mind: neglect of services, neglect of communities; neglect of individuals. 

Mental health may be apolitical in who it affects, but when there are policies blatantly decreasing quality of life, mental health becomes inherently political. 

In some ways, the pandemic gave us a taste of a better work-life balance, with many companies allowing employees to work from home or others being furloughed. But this wasn’t the case for everybody. Many workers were thrown into unemployment, forced to take up precarious contracts or temporary work, or were forced to settle for a lower-paying job. Many families and individuals also didn’t have the luxury of a home office to work from or a garden to escape to. 

While things like UBI and a four-day work week could be beneficial to mental health, other areas of society cannot be neglected: we need more youth services, more robust mental health support with shorter waiting times, a better standard of affordable housing, higher wages, and more secure contracts. 

But there also needs to be a shift in attitude and ideology. Society and policy could benefit from greater compassion: both in our understanding of mental health and who it affects, and in our understanding of how mental health interacts with external factors. 

Of course, many mental illnesses cannot simply be fixed by social security policies alone, but this is where mental health services and their availability are vital. For those who must live with mental health conditions, they should at least have access to talking therapies, medical care and support services, without worrying that their time will run out before their name becomes top of the waiting list.