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as told to: 'you don't have to take 10 years to get a diagnosis like i did'
there's been progress in south asian culture accepting mental health, but there's more work to be done, says advocate jessie brar.
nov 1 2021
7 minute read
jessie brar is a toronto-based diversity, equity and inclusion specialist and mental health advocate, and the founder of the mental health spotlight , which for years created a space for young south asians to share their stories about mental health and erase the cultural stigma around the conversation. after her own journey with complex post-traumatic stress disorder, brar has made it her mission to keep these spaces alive and remind other people of colour that there is healing and there is help. this is her story.
i was born and raised in the gta, while my mom was born and raised in india, and my dad was born in india but raised in hamilton. in other words, they both had very different experiences growing up and, unfortunately, the family that my mom married into was very toxic — verbally and emotionally abusive. my father experienced a lot of mental health issues growing up that were undiagnosed. to cope, he turned to alcohol and became an alcoholic, and also became verbally, physically and emotionally abusive. it was a tough situation to be in as a kid. you grow up believing there is inherent love between parent and child, that they’re there to take care of you and protect you. but for us, that wasn’t the case. i’m lucky that my mom is incredible, she’s a very resilient woman. her strength led to my parents splitting when i was 11 years old. we found our own place, and then it was just me, my mom and my two younger siblings. she had to start over, and with nothing, because my father had drained all of their bank accounts. we had $300 in cash and had to make that work until her next paycheck.
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as the oldest, i tried to step up where i could. i was taking care of my two-year-old sister and making lunches for my brother while my mom was working from 6 a.m. until 11 p.m. at three different jobs; it was difficult. by the time i was in high school, my mom’s parents began helping out and living with us, and we finally started to find our footing and build something of our own. but i remember being 16, and the first day of my intro to psychology class when my teacher wrote down the symptoms of depression and anxiety on the overhead projector, and all i could think in my head was ‘why does this sound like me?’ i had never heard of mental health issues before. i was so terrified because it sounded like me, but i couldn’t understand why or how, and so i went to my mom. but she never had mental health education and so didn’t understood what it all meant. so when i told her ‘i think that’s me, i think i have depression,’ she responded, ‘why would you be depressed? you’ve got straight a’s, you’ve got a good group of friends, you’re not in a toxic environment anymore, you have a family that loves you, you just went to disneyland, i don’t get it.’ the thing is i didn’t know either, and so i just let it be.
a few years later, in university, which is a hard stage of life for most people as you’re growing from a child to an adult, i was juggling a lot: cooking, cleaning, paying rent, trying to pass all my classes. it wasn’t easy. it was also the first time i drank alcohol, but i didn’t know what my limits were. as my first year went on, i started to notice that when my friends were drinking and having fun, i was drinking to the point of forgetting, because i realized that every time i drank like that, i would feel looser, calmer. and then eventually i would get to the point where i would just full-on blackout. it was scary and it wasn’t healthy, but it was coming from a place of having so many things going on in my head and wanting to silence them.
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i was getting into dangerous situations where my mental health was really struggling; i wasn’t going to my classes, i was sleeping all day, staying up all night, drinking four or five times a week. i wasn’t actively suicidal, but i had suicidal ideations. i remember thinking that if something happened to me, i wouldn’t care. and then one night, i wasn’t being careful, and i got roofied. nothing more happened, thankfully, but i woke up the next morning in a hospital bed had having no idea what was going on or how i got there, and it was the most terrifying experience of my life. it was my first moment of realization. i thought, ‘this isn’t okay, if i keep doing this, i’m going to die.’
i tried to get help, but it was difficult because i didn’t know what i was dealing with. the school nurse put me on arbitrary medication, which made me sick and also made me feel worse. then i tried talking to a therapist, but being a young brown woman, speaking with an older white male doctor who had no idea how to relate to my experience or how to tell me how to navigate it was not effective. after a while, i got fed up and stopped trying, i figured i’d be careful about my drinking and leave it at that. but i didn’t feel like myself. i did, however, have an incredible support system with the same three best friends i’d had since i was 13 — and still have. over the years, i was able to open up to them and i was met with nothing but love and kindness. they’ve been there for all of the medications i went through, they’ve been the ones to take me to the hospital when things got bad, or to check in on me just because. it got me through.
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soon after, help came by accident. in my second year, i stumbled into a mental health presentation on campus. the panellists, who happened to be south asian, discussed why mental health is important and explained what it is, and i remember hearing their stories, how they had struggled and eventually healed. because they looked like me and had experiences similar to mine, i suddenly believed things could get better, i had hope; representation matters. the very next day, i booked an appointment with a new therapist, and began taking courses related to what i was going through. since then, i’ve been on a selfish pursuit to figure out what was going on.
after various misdiagnoses, i learned i have complex post-traumatic stress disorder, which is not listed in the dsm-5, though it is recognized by the world health organization and the u.k. healthcare system, which is where i first learned about it. it’s an anxiety disorder that can happen when you’ve experienced or witnessed trauma over a long period of time, and which can impact your brain activity. those who have it are often misdiagnosed, so it was a relief to discover that was what was happening. it was the first time where i thought, ‘i’m not crazy.’ from there, i realized i wanted to tell my stories and others’ like mine.
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in 2017, i began volunteering with and working for different mental health organizations, and launched my own project called the mental health spotlight on instagram, where i started by sharing my own story of how i struggled and how i found help, and then invited others to share theirs. over three years, we shared over 200 stories from south asians across the world, and helped normalize the conversation. that’s what led me to travel to the u.k. and become a co-host for the first global ministerial mental health summit presented for the duke and duchess of cambridge. since, i’ve been traveling to different universities and colleges giving mental health presentations about this very story. i often think about how hard things were, how alone and hopeless i felt, how that led me to create a space where we could begin to erase the cultural stigma around mental health, and now the amazing opportunities that journey has brought me. through my advocacy, i get to show people that it doesn’t have to be this long, scary experience. mental health is not a linear journey, but you don’t have to take 10 years to find a diagnosis like i did. there is help.
when it comes to the south asian culture accepting mental health, i also think there has been progress and the pandemic has been the catalyst — my grandmother, who is 85, just got on anxiety medication for the first time in her life! mental health is finally at the forefront. the stigma is dissipating, but there is still a lack of education and nuance.
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so to those young people of colour who might be experiencing what i did or feeling something similar to it, i want to remind you that you are not alone. mental health struggles can feel very isolating and you can get caught up in feeling like you’re the only one going through it or like no one cares about you or understands. but there are people whose job it is to care and be there. although it does mean that finding the right therapy, medication or diagnosis can be a trial and error process, a big part of this is knowing that you’re important and that you matter.
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