20 Years of CoMHWA: Reflections from Rachael

For as long as people have had brains (which is forever by the way), we have also experienced the challenges that come alongside owning them.  

Life always has and always will come with a range of emotional ebbs and flows. Emotions are always there – whether we identify them or not, regardless how we perceive them and – yes – even when we try to shame them into silence (guilty as charged). They can be beautiful and comforting, but sometimes they can also be overwhelming, terrifying and demoralizing.

Existing as a human is complex… we are complex.   

I am endlessly fascinated by the neuroscience governing our physiology and find great satisfaction in the way our nervous system functions so intricately, but I digress. As a person always has been inclined to think in this very scientific and medical manner, it wasn’t until I experienced mental ill-health that my view of the body, the mind, the collective concept of  ‘body-mind’ shifted from seeing a biochemical lens to something that cannot be explained by logic and that likely never will be completely understood.

I grew up a ‘gifted’ student (a label I strongly despise) who showed ‘limitless potential’. I was determined to study medicine and become a doctor so that I could help those who were unwell, but in the process of pursuing this, I became unwell. In a world that perceived study and success above wellbeing, I pushed my own to the side.

I would write and type for twelve hours a day or more. All day, every day was dedicated to my study and breaks were seen as a ‘waste’ of my time. It served as a perfect distraction away from the OCD, anorexia, anxiety, depression and beyond that was consuming me, and as a fabulous mask for my neurodivergence that went unrecognised and which inflicted upon me great shame and self-loathing.

The problem was that I was so good at hiding my pain that successfully built the façade that I was okay, in turn allowing me to continue until my deteriorating health spiraled so much so that it could no longer be ignored (in my case, this was when my mental ill-health began to present as physical ill-health as a result of my eating disorder). By the time I received any form of intervention, my patterns of behaviour were already so deeply rooted and interlocked with the fundamental essence of who I was (and am) as a person.

I lost so much during this time – so much was taken from me, and so much was simply never given to me that I should have gotten. One of these (and one that I though I could live my entire life without) was community and belonging.

I could write (and have written) about this for pages, but rarely have I talked about my gratitude towards the community that I have found through Lived Experience, and – in particular – through Consumers of Mental Health WA.

My experiences in treatment have been mainly negative. Reminders that human decency and compassion existed were few and far between. As such, I have kept distance between anything affiliated with the words ‘mental health’, seeing anything labelled as such as another space in which I might be coerced, dehumanised and made to feel like a burden. This is something I only started to face up to when I started taking autonomy in my own recovery and purposely seeking out situations that tested me (as uncomfortable as they made me). In doing so, I stumbled upon CoMHWA.

My first encounter with CoMHWA was through the fantastic program, Life Launchpad. I’d been emailing around to see what opportunities there were for me to get involved in advocacy more formally (as I’d only ever been doing it very casually through my own social media and/ or out of a pure necessity to do so), and was told about this group. I was hesitant, but went along.  

I remember being late (after debating whether or not to go) walking into Willagee community center to Elaine’s smile – she later shared that every time a new person walks through the door, she is met with a moment of relief and excitement. I can truly say that going along to these groups was the catalyst to a year full of growth. Hard work and endurance, but a lot of growth.

I became one of CoMHWA’s most familiar faces very quickly both online and in person- I was taking the bus to Belmont more than I’d been going out in years. Advocacy became my first true love – something that filled my heart with joy and purpose, though this didn’t surprise me as I have always been drawn towards activism and change-making.

What did surprise me was the fact that I started to feel a part of something that I never though I would – community. I started to feel accepted, included and welcomed into a space outside of my own existence. Community was previously of a myth to me… something that felt unattainable and which in I questioned the existence of. I’ve always managed to ‘fit in’ just enough to be perceived as ‘normal’, but never truly felt comfortable within a group of people to whom I could relate.

Over the last year, I have formed connections with people from such vastly different walks of life to myself. People I relate to so much deeper than those I shared my adolescence with and to whom I was supposed to share common interests.

In the Lived Experience mental health and disability space, I have met people who understand what it is like experience adversity and challenge in its many various forms and how it feels to be repeatedly let down by a system that is not designed to accommodate us. Us being the Mad folks, the disabled folks, the queer folks, the neurodivergent folks… you name it. Using these terms has been and still is very much a point of contention – everyone has different perspectives on what is and is not affirming – however to me, CoMHWA has been a place where it is okay to embrace these titles through a lens of empowerment.

Now, after incredibly hard work* and countless hours in training courses (many of which have been run CoMHWA’s phenomenal training team), I have now found myself in a part time role here. I am endlessly grateful to be in a workplace that supports me in all the ways I need it to. It has been through accepting and accommodating the intensity of my passion and determination (which has previously been my own downfall and has often been taken advantage of) in a way that also encourages and enables me to take care of myself.

*Lived Experience practice is – as I’ve allowed myself to accept – a discipline in and of itself. To become the advocate that I am today (or at least the one I am hoping to become) has taken and still takes hard work, determination, resilience and dedication… it is not a case of luck nor is it that I’ve been ‘fortunate’ in having doors open for me.

It brings me great comfort to see that the governing values – kindness, respect, integrity, social justice, connection and courage – are not just tokenistic but rather are a constant, daily commitment. 

Kindness – the welcoming and friendly faces that have made space for me and shown me compassion when I haven’t been able to afford it to myself

Respect – the value recognised within everyone, the way in which the empowerment is fostered (which, in my opinion, is the purest form of gift there is).

Integrity – The authenticity to be vulnerable and imperfect, to own and accept the inherently messy nature of humanity

Social justice – Holding true to convictions and striving for what is equitable, no matter the cost.

Connection – the belonging, community and companionship that exists not just between those of us employed for our Lived Experience expertise, but also those still living it (with the recognition that – in truth – the lines that separate the two are a construct themselves).

Courage – The strength that it takes to knowingly open yourself up; to know that in doing so we are accepting a label that may at times disadvantage us. Knowing that in doing so we will experience judgement and accepting this regardless.

Whilst in the scheme of CoMHWA’s now 20 year life I am only a new and VERY small part of it, I feel a great appreciation for its meagre existence. I look forward to seeing it grow and (hopefully) being a part of this process.

Rachael Burns
My Voice, My Rights, My Way Project Officer