Families standing up to shame and stigma by reclaiming connection and finding belonging

This fact sheet is part of a series we created with families who have been through tough times to spark hope and share new ideas about how to stand up to shame and stigma.

We hope these resources have something to offer all families, but recognise they are simply a snapshot reflecting the lived experiences of the families who helped us create them – other families will have different experiences and stories.

We also intentionally create resources that reflect Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander ways of knowing, being and doing with guidance from our Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander National Consultancy Group and partners.

See more about how Emerging Minds collaborates with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander practitioners, families and Community.

We know that families come in many forms and appreciate that every child is unique, with different strengths, vulnerabilities and experiences that shape their health and development. For the purposes of easy reading, these resources use the term ‘parent’ to cover the biological, adoptive, foster and kinship carers of a child, as well as individuals who have chosen to take up primary or shared responsibility in raising that child.

‘Being persistent in finding the right people that you’re around, finding people that are maybe a bit ‘neurospicy’ as well, that get what you’re going through. Exploring a world full of hobbies and finding one that gives you more spoons* and helps recharge more. Hobbies with other people you like connecting with, or hobbies you can do alone.’

– KC, young person from a rural area

*Curious about ‘spoons’? Watch this YouTube video of Ben Carpenter explaining spoon theory (please note the video contains a few words that might not be considered appropriate for little ears).

‘One of my sons, because we moved schools a lot, he would find the outliers of the school. At one high school – which was really, really rough, really scary – we were the new people, it was a tiny country town [and] everyone knew we were struggling. So we had a lot of stigma stuck to us already, huge potential for teasing at the school. And straight away, within the first week, he had made friends with the toughest, scariest kids of the school, who turned out to be actually really nice and really good buddies. So he had some kind of security when something would happen.’

‘When I was young, I went to a drama club run by a youth service. I originally went because Mum suggested it. But it ended up being a safe space that I knew I could go to, that I could escape to when home was too much. There were times when home was so intense that I wanted to run away and leave. So I would get on my bike and go to the youth centre, and I knew people knew me and understood me and would be on my side. It was separate to school and separate to home. It was really good, really important. And I enjoyed it. The workers there, the adults there, knew what they were doing, they knew how to work with young people. They changed my life a bit. A lot of growth I can attribute to that youth centre.’

– Elliot, young person looking back on their childhood, Kaurna Country

This story and more like it can be found in Supporting children’s social connections in tough times.

‘When I was little, I was basically the mum. I was seven years old, raising a newborn and helping my older siblings too. My mum kept putting in my head that if I told anyone that us kids would get taken off her [by child protection]. And then I eventually ended up opening up to one of my very favourite teachers at the time at school. She ended up working out by the way I was acting … I would always turn around and tell her that I had always eaten lunch but I never had. And then she eventually put the puzzle pieces together and was like, “You are not having lunch here?” I was like, “Yeah.” I tried lying about it and she eventually found out that I was lying. And then I was like, “OK, well, maybe I can talk to this person about what’s going on at home?”’

– Evelyn, young person from a rural area

‘At the times when you’re really up against it, a feeling of “us versus them” can be helpful. But I think if you don’t move away from it, it starts to create issues of isolation and a sense of mistrust. So it isn’t a good state to be in long-term. In order to move out of that us-versus-them state, you’ve got to have some kind of semi-stability in your housing or in your community of the people around you that you can trust. And then once you have that, you’ve got these places to reach out to. So it’s a matter of, instead of turning inwards as a family unit, turning outwards and then reaching out from there. It’s almost like a breathing out. You’ve gone from breathing in to “Now I can breathe out again.”’

‘There are people that I decided to avoid. They were adding to my mental health situation, like some community groups or some people, they make faces or they strongly advise you to do something that I didn’t think was the right thing to do as a parent. I took some advice and I didn’t take some other advice. So that was a way to survive.’

‘When I came out to my mum and she really shamed me, I felt really bad. Some people were really supportive, whereas my mum was exactly the opposite. I gravitated towards the people that were compassionate, that were understanding, that cared. I lost a lot of friends, but I sought out people who were caring. Those sort of situations where that shame, that stigma, is so heavy and it’s like you’ve got to build up almost a wall around yourself, but you’ve got to be able to let people come in.’

‘Once I understood that I needed relationships for good wellbeing, I started doing things like going to the men’s shed, playing sport and going fishing with mates. I joined cycling bunches to ride with. These days I much prefer to do an activity with a friend than doing it alone because relationships really shift my emotional states. We’re bonding mammals. We’re wired for relationships. It’s OK to let people get close. That fear still pops up, but I notice it, then let it go. I tell myself this is OK and I can do it. It’s made a big difference to my ability to have intimate relationships and model relationships for my kids.’

‘A shame that I faced in my life was after my separation. Culturally, being a single mother, it’s taboo [to talk about divorce, separation or being a single mother]. So what I did, I decided to accept it. I appreciate it and I talk about it when I can. Normally, people hide it, but I talk about it. I work as an interpreter. If I interpret [Persian and English] for a single mother, I say, “I’m a single mother, I’m working, I’m happy, I have a good life. And this is the benefit, this is pro and this is con, but these are the good things about it.” Things that I was ashamed of before, I can now talk about openly and honestly. It’s a way of healing. At the same time as I tell others that I’m happy with my life, I’m kind of telling myself that I’m happy with these bits of my life. And that’s important.’

‘When doing lived experience work, I try to keep a family focus by reminding myself that it’s about my kids, not me. I’m doing this to help other families, so I’m thinking of how things were from my own family perspective.

‘My hardest times were when the kids were young, so I just keep going back to them, picturing them in my mind, bringing back remembered scenes with them when I’m recalling things. And thinking how grateful I am that it’s in the past. That helps me not get dragged under into bad/sad feelings from past events. It’s easy to get lost in the moment from my perspective, so I need to just keep on top of that and keep bringing myself back to the family focus.’

‘I work in the mines of western Tasmania as a mental health consultant. I’m a trained beyondblue speaker and I run training for leaders in some of the largest workplaces in Tasmania.

‘I always tell my story because it destigmatises mental illness. I tell people that I was so unwell that, as an engineer, the only work I could do was picking tomatoes and fixing electric fences on a dairy farm. People can see that I’m a regular guy and that I have recovered and realise that it could happen to anyone, and that dealing with it takes courage. It’s fear and shame that stops us from accessing support. I don’t tell men to get help, I tell them to take action. Courage is what you do in the face of fear, not the absence of fear.

‘In being able to speak so freely about my experience, it enabled my daughter to open up to me when she began to experience some suicidal thoughts as a teenager. She was comfortable speaking with me but not her mum, because I had normalised it and became comfortable with speaking about it.’

‘Sometimes it’s a bit heavy because I remember the story and the wound that is healed, but you scratch on it and it’s bleeding again. So I cry with them. But I’m passionate to help still. I volunteer. It’s a bit difficult, but at the same time it’s really rewarding because I feel like we understand each other. I feel like we’re not alone. I feel like even if I help one woman or one family who were in a similar situation that I was, I make a little bit of difference, then that’s a good feeling. I don’t know what hormone I make in my brain, but it’s just like I feel I did something really good and I’m making positive changes.’