Living out loud

From his early years, Ryan Hughes knew he was different. Diagnosed with ADHD at a young age, Ryan struggled with schoolwork and connecting with other kids.

“I was always a bit of an outsider. [My challenges] made me really stand out amongst my peers,” says Ryan. “It was a bull’s-eye for bullies, and it made me really ashamed. It built a huge amount of stigma for me at a young age.”

To deal with his shame, Ryan became adept at “masking,” or hiding his symptoms and behaviours to fit in with his peers—so much so that when he started at a new school in grade eight, he chose not to reveal his diagnosis and, as a result, didn’t face any bullying.

“That reinforced for me at a really young age the stigma and the shame, and mental health challenges are something you have to mask. It’s something you have to hide.”

As he got older, Ryan’s challenges mounted. He was diagnosed with bipolar-II disorder in his 20s, but he struggled to accept his diagnosis until well into his 30s.

“I didn’t want anything else wrong with me.”

Ryan turned to alcohol to cope with episodes of hypomania and depression related to his bipolar disorder.

“I look back and realize there are so many special days—anniversaries, birthdays, holidays—that at the end of the day, I was not present at all,” says Ryan. “I missed out on those days because I was using alcohol to help numb what I was feeling.”

With the help of his doctor and the support of his family, Ryan began to understand the impact his illness and substance use was having on those around him.

He realized he wanted to—needed to—change.

“I had no idea that it could feel this good until I started treating my bipolar,” says Ryan. “I think it’s important that people hear stories like mine so that they can reflect, and they can seek treatment, and then they can get help so that they can live a full life the way that I am now.”

He also knows it’s not that clear or simple for everyone.

“I fully acknowledge that I carry a tremendous amount of privilege. I’m a cisgendered, heterosexual, white male. When I talk about my illness, I come from a relatively safe space,” says Ryan. “I am a small business owner. I’m able to talk very openly in my workplace and set the tone about mental health discussions without fear of losing my job. There are so many people who don’t have that privilege.”

“For me, if I can be that voice, if I can take my place of privilege and use it to help those who don’t have it and break down the stigma and have those conversations, that’s what I want to do.”

Ryan recalls the start of his advocacy journey. He was leading a meeting about workplace mental health policies, and one of his employees pointed out that policies are meaningless unless people feel comfortable talking openly about their own mental health.

“We had about 20 people on the call, and I opened up very directly that I struggle with my mental health almost on a daily basis and that I live with bipolar and ADHD,” says Ryan. “It was a huge weight off my shoulders to be able to be that open about who I was with the people that I work so closely with.”

As Ryan continues his advocacy journey, he’s lending his voice as a champion for CAMH.

“CAMH is leading the conversation around mental health. This is how we break down the stigma—by normalizing these conversations,” says Ryan. “That’s how we break down stigma and eliminate the shame that is holding people back from getting the help that they truly, genuinely need.”