By ESTHER OSBORNE

‘You don’t look like you’re disabled’ is a phrase I am often met with when I mention that I am or park in a blue badge holders’ space.

So what does disabled look like? What does mental illness look like?

It’s World Mental Health Week and once again in the press and social media we are bombarded with headlines and hashtags about ridding society of stigma and addressing the gaps in provision of care for those with ‘head problems’, us, the Crazy People. But what does all this mean or achieve? Are we just flavour of the month – or week – for those politicians who are looking to gain popularity of vote? The real issue here is finding a way to break down barriers and talk more openly about mental health, so people can receive the help they so desperately need. I’ll repeat the statistics we all hear so often. One in three people are said to suffer from mental illness over the course of their lives. It’s as much a scourge as cancer and certainly brings with it high mortality rates. And yet the treatment available is wholly inadequate.

You know what, I’m kind of sick of hearing about it and talking about it because nothing ever changes. It’s enough to drive me crazy. Oh, the irony! This has been as issue for me for a long time and I’ve given a lot of thought to it.

I am perhaps unlucky to suffer from a ‘head disease’ that also has severe physical implications and therefore renders me registered disabled.

For me, breaking down the stigma was a lot more to do with myself and my willingness to admit openly that yes, I am ‘KREY-zee’ and I shouldn’t be afraid to talk about my problems.

So I thought a little more. And I realised that right now, what’s important for me is, well, me.

And I invite all you other ‘crazy’ or disabled people – young, old, fat, thin, short, tall, Jedi, alien or otherwise – to do the same. Don’t be ashamed or reluctant to stand up and be counted. Firstly to yourself and then to others and admit you have mental health problems. That was the hardest part over with.

Yes, of course it’s important to end the stigma and improve the care. Of course it is. And the biggest part of that is to be courageous enough to stand up and admit you have a MENT-tl IL-nis.

It sounds so obvious but I really do think that’s the part we often miss.

And in the meantime, while all that goes on and while the politicians fight it out, we still need to find ways of looking after ourselves. I found my way to fill the gaps by looking elsewhere.

Access Dorset – have you heard of them? For me, they became a complete support, shift of focus and got me involved in a whole host of activities and new things that kept my mind ‘well’.

And they even opened my eyes to the fact that the term ‘disability’ can cover so much and doesn’t necessarily mean what you assumed.

They provided me with ‘care’ in a whole new sense of the word and I’d love for you to be able to discover them too.

Visit their website and you’ll see what I mean: accessdorset.org.uk I’m not ashamed to admit I went into what’s known as a mental health ‘crisis’ last week.

A lovely chap who works at Access Dorset wrote me a fantastic email. We laughed. We joked. And he said this: “What could possibly change for you, is to accept that we are all messed up really.

“Maybe we all need some acceptance of that for our groundhog days.” One to remember – it really helps. I fill the remaining gaps in other ways, with friends, family, music, fresh air, books... it sounds obvious, but when you are caught in the throes of a ‘crisis’, sometimes you forget about these things.

I hope the stigma does end. I hope the care for us Loony Tunes improves. And mostly I hope we can all be a part of making that happen by helping ourselves and helping each other.