Goggles on: Peeling back the mental health onion without the tears
South Australian Mental Health Commissioner Taimi Allan says working on the “layers” of how we perceive and tackle mental health will deliver real change.
Peeling an onion is one of those tasks that seems straightforward until you’re midway through, tearing up, and wondering why you didn’t put on a pair of goggles. Understanding our mental health system feels a lot like that – peeling back layer after layer, hoping to reach the core without too much stinging.
I often find myself explaining these layers over a cuppa with my Mum. She insists on understanding what I do in terms that resonate with her experience, supporting me through my own mental distress.
“Explain it like you’re not talking to your colleagues,” she says. And she’s right, because the heart of my work should resonate not just in conference rooms but at kitchen tables.
On the surface, we deal with the emergencies – the immediate crises. This is what most people see, the first layer of the onion. It’s essential, but it’s just the start. Unpeeling the mental health system requires more than just a good frypan; it needs a thorough examination of each layer.
Diving deeper, we encounter societal attitudes that shape how mental distress is perceived and treated. The “mad vs bad” narrative, a particularly tough layer, perpetuates prejudice and prevents people from seeking help. They fear judgment and misunderstanding, which only compounds their distress.
Here, the media plays a pivotal role. With their widespread influence, journalists have a golden opportunity to turn the tide on how mental health is discussed. By reporting with sensitivity and a focus on recovery and support, the media can help transform public perceptions, encouraging more people to seek help without fear.
Then there’s the widespread belief that the support systems are inadequate, or worse, unhelpful. If people think reaching out won’t bring them any real support, many simply won’t try. This layer of the onion can be especially frustrating because it’s not just about changing minds; it’s about proving that we can offer meaningful help.
Imagine if getting help for mental health was as easy and common as finding a coffee shop. That’s the vision some communities are starting to realise with innovations like Safe-Havens, Urgent Mental Health Care Centres, Men’s Tables, talk-therapy barbers and mental health pubs popping up. These community-driven initiatives show what’s possible when we use our existing talents to make a difference.
Mental Health Commissioner Taimi Allan. Photo: Provided. Graphic design: Jayde Vandborg/InDaily.
At the core, we find the public narrative – the essence of how mental distress is perceived and managed. But let’s not forget the layers in between. We talk a lot about the need for early intervention and prevention, and rightly so. However, while we’re working towards a system where fewer people reach acute crisis, we must also ensure robust support at both ends of the spectrum.
Right now, that means investing in immediate crisis care as well as in early intervention services. In my previous role, we managed to make some inroads by convincing private investors that innovation in mental health needs support from those who care outside the system. These solutions can be fast, agile and, with guidance from those of us within the system, can have a safe and impactful return on investment.
It’s clear, however, that government funding alone will never be enough to provide all the supports we need – or want. Many of the most unique offerings must come from outside the system.
As we tackle the layers of the mental health onion, we all need to keep our goggles handy and maybe even keep a brew on – because who says you can’t discuss deep, meaningful change over a good coffee?
Just as in a well-seasoned kitchen, where every tool and ingredient has its place, in the vast kitchen of mental health, every small action, every bit of support adds up to a recipe for real change.
Here’s to peeling carefully, laughing when we can, and maybe, just maybe, not crying too much in the process.