This weekend I reminisced about my bitten-to-the quick fingernails as a child. I also ripped off my toenails and battled with painful ingrown toenails that my mother had to free. Sure, I was an anxious child. But in the 1970s and 1980s that wasn’t talked about or recognized. Why didn’t any adult ask me why I self-harmed? I do remember my parents’ friend N. who they always described as “nervous” because he had a few noticeable symptoms like jitteriness and over-sensitivity.
As a child, and a teen, I always felt safe in libraries. I escaped bullies by hiding in my junior high library. I delayed going home after school to an empty house by taking the bus downtown to my public library, where I spent so much time I decided to volunteer and “work” there. And essentially spend the majority of my professional life working in libraries.
May is mental health awareness month. I’m aware of my mental health everyday. As a leader, I’m aware of my library workers’ mental health, too. Daily check ins, just chatting with them, alerts me to any soothing or calming that I can do to ease their time in our workplace. Or refer them to use their EAP benefits. Or tell them “it’s not like this everywhere.” But, am I lying? Are there healthier libraries functioning with less organizational-induced distress?
I’ve had LIS Interrupted on my desk at work for weeks now, and love scanning the table of contents. I’m committed to reading at least one chapter each week during May to learn more about how others working in libraries experience our organizations. There is power in learning that we are not alone in our struggles. Feeling alone and isolated sucks.
Yet, being open about mental health and disability in the workplace is fraught. I attended a meeting about disability at ACRL a few months ago and was shocked to learn that many people are cautious about sharing information about disabilities and mental health with library administration and/or their colleagues.
A few days ago I emailed my team and let everyone know that I had a panic attack at work and this dis-regulated me greatly. I apologized ahead of time in case I seemed distracted/unfocused/disassociated, didn’t respond to email in a timely manner, or that my communication was riddled with errors.
I’ve had two or three panic attacks at home, but the majority of my panic attacks happen in my library and are work-related. I grow angry at myself because my body feels so out of control, so overreactive. I can listen and acknowledge what I experience, try a few grounding exercises, but I lose a lot of “productivity” due to situations beyond my control. And while my mind tells me to shake it off, my body has its own agenda.
Rebecca Tolley 
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