How has mental health been addressed in fiction, and what can be learned or improved from it? We’re here to talk about that and more.
The public image of mental health has undergone a dynamic transformation—for the better—in recent decades, prompting well-needed discussions on how people with mental illnesses are not only treated but also portrayed by the public. This can be equally applied to fictional characters in the media and in literature; readers of novels with such characters, for instance, would take comfort in knowing that these personas, rather than ostracized or overly idolized, are simply well understood and well read by their target audience. We're keen on revisiting this subject as we look back on the Creatinuum Podcast episode "Not All Wounds Are Visible: On Mental Health in Fiction," where we discuss mental health representation in fiction and media at large.
While putting a spotlight on individuals with poor mental health has helped fuel the appeal for a specific genre of horror—namely, psychological horror—we couldn't help but wonder whether this has influenced how such individuals are perceived. Thankfully, because serious discussions about mental health have become commonplace and even normalized today, we can expand the mental image evoked by this topic to more than just straitjackets and electro-shock therapy. Every person struggles with one kind of mental illness or another, and everyone is encouraged to seek out professional help in this regard.
There's something to be admired about people who step forward and publicly admit what kind of illness or disability that they possess, along with the steps they have been taking to reduce or otherwise manage their symptoms. Such an action can encourage others to address their own mental health and willfully ask important questions about the kind of treatment they might need, should they need it. This is especially helpful to remember considering that mental health, though it has been regarded through a larger and more widely encompassing lens, still comes with a kind of stigma that hasn't completely gone away.
Take, for instance, managers and bosses who still hold doubts as to whether "mental health leaves" should be granted to their employees. To no one's surprise, "hustle culture" has largely harmed more than helped people in more ways than one, from forcing them to adopt unhealthy habits (e.g., burnout) to even causing them to disregard their mental health until it is too late to address it. Even doctors know full well how some physical ailments can't be fully cured without considering the state of their patient's mind.
Mental health representation nowadays can be considered a double-edged sword: while various kinds of media have shed light on people suffering from mental illness, there remains a tendency for them to sensationalize such a phenomenon. For instance, the polarizing reception of Netflix's Thirteen Reasons Why adaptation, inspired by the YA novel of the same name, is an upstanding example of how much care needs to be taken in portraying the tragedy and aftermath of teen suicide without triggering the intended audience, which includes young and impressionable viewers.
Another example can be drawn from the reception of M. Night Shyamalan's film Split, wherein James McAvoy plays a homicidal individual with dissociative identity disorder (DID). While the film received mixed feedback, especially with regard to how a person suffering from DID is portrayed (and possibly fueling the myth that such a person always has at least one "evil" alter ego with homicidal tendencies), some people who actually experience DID stepped forward to shed light on how they live their own lives and reiterate that they are just people who try to survive on a day-to-day basis.
Certain films, series, and books that fall behind the mark of representing mental health in a less triggering and more informative way can take notes from the comedy show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, whose protagonist, played by Rachel Bloom, suffers from borderline personality disorder (BPD). Despite the series being a comedy, it acknowledges how serious BPD can be as well as how a person who has gone undiagnosed with such a disorder and who suffers from self-destructive habits can still seek help and get better.
In our opinion, the best outcome we can envisage for a character who suffers from mental health issues isn't one where they harm themselves further for the sake of an "edgy" narrative arc but rather one where said character receives the right treatment and recovers (or otherwise manages their condition with more capability) over time. Another thing that should be commended is when the story stresses that this type of character is not alone and is, in fact, helped by their family (biological and/or found), friends, significant others, and loved ones.
Overall, what can we glean from the state of mental health representation today and how it can be improved for the future? First, we can definitely say that so many works of fiction can still take a step back from taking the "edgy" route in terms of leaning heavily into the darker side of mental illness; in itself, mental illness can be represented and taught about without being overly romanticized. Second—and we address consumers of fiction here—one shouldn't be afraid to step away from a piece of fiction that they know can harm or trigger them; it's all right to say, "That was too much for me," and to prioritize your own mental health. Sure, mental health is still a tricky topic to tackle in media nowadays, but with time, we hope to see more care and responsibility in not only how fictional narratives portray individuals with mental illnesses but also how viewers and readers of such media consume them.
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