It used to be that cancer was a word that was whispered because it was so horrible that it became unbearable for the whole family. Out-of-wedlock pregnancies also sent shivers down the back and babies were called illegitimate. When I was in seventh grade, a girl became pregnant. Her whole family moved to Florida in shame and started a new life there.

Much has changed in the last thirty years. Today, even breast cancer is mentioned in society and on television, along with advertisements of cosmetic and self-help ways to cope with a previously unmentionable disease. Now unwed mothers are called single parents. These mothers go to school, college and their workplaces during the pregnancy and after the baby is born. However, the same can not be said for the discussion of mental illness; it seems as if we must still keep silent about this disease.

In the 1960's, when I entered the state hospital, my parents hushed it up and my relatives lost touch with me when they could have been of help. Unfortunately, the mental health system seems to create and sustain stigma in its attempt to protect the patient and community from each other. Mental illnesses are listed with numerical diagnostic codes in medical books. Insurance companies provide less coverage for illnesses that are described as mental in nature. When will the system treat us like other patients rather than secret recipients of services? After all, society meets us in the community, the neighborhood and the workplace on a daily basis. It certainly is hard to hide who you are.

In the magazines devoted to disability awareness, one sees excellent articles and poetry written by health professionals and people who have a mental health diagnosis. The reader sees titles attached to the professionals’ names but often only sees consumers identified by two initials. The consumers’ essays are well written and deliver great messages of both hope and despair. Yet, these consumers decline to receive much-deserved credit for their brave statements because of stigma. I debated for three weeks about whether to attach my name to an essay that I wrote on suicide. I finally decided to risk being "out of the closet" and the response to my article was amazing.

Let us stop the stigma of being anonymous. We are all leading free lives and meeting each other everywhere. This should be a positive thing. For example, there are group homes in my neighborhood that have joined in with the Neighborhood Watch Program. There are also many individuals who persevere in spite of isolation. The COMPEER program is a program that endeavors to match those mental health consumers in isolation with volunteer friends. Confidentiality and choice must be considered and respected, but the community needs to wake up and realize that individuals with a mental illness are a great asset to society and should not remain nameless. Only then will real progress be made.