Maija Liikkanen
We hope for an open discussion about mental health problems, but few people want to be the first to come forward. Miki Liukkonen was an uncomplicated pioneer in this matter.
Author Miki Liukkonen was 33 years old when he died. PASI LEISMA
News writer Miki Liukkonen of death stopped me completely. Only a month earlier I had spoken to him on the phone, and he had been swirling around the edges of my mind ever since.
At the beginning of June, I surveyed the honest experiences of public figures about the use of mood medications. The purpose was to make an article that would provide peer support for those in need of medication. Concrete, genuine experiences told by familiar people.
I asked Miki Liukkos, who had talked about his mental health problems in public. I didn’t know him, but based on the newspaper stories I had gotten a pretty dark picture of him. In the stories, he talked about life dramatically, like artists. I thought that he might well respond to the interview request by rejecting it.
I was pleasantly surprised when Miki immediately agreed to join. “You can call anytime.”
The call was relaxed and pleasant. We talked about mental health problems, from which Miki had suffered almost his entire life. The symptoms came and went, the main one often seemed to be crippling anxiety.
Miki told what mood medications he had tried over the years and what kind of effects they had had. After a few experiments, he had found the latest preparation. At first it had taken away the appetite, but now it seemed to help. Finally something helps, he said with relief.
He said that he had already adapted to the fact that he would have to take medicine for the rest of his life. At first, the thought was unnerving. However, Dad had advised to think of medication like a diabetic’s insulin spike: Miki’s mind just needed its daily insulin to stay functional. Father’s support had made Miki approach the matter with a new gentleness.
I felt good about the call. Miki sounded somehow uncomplicated, confident.
In the end, the interview got stuck in my files as a useless pawn. The thing was never done, because I couldn’t get anyone else to join.
It was difficult to find public figures who would have openly told that they were taking antipsychotics. Those I contacted politely declined. It’s a hurry, the topic still feels too private, not this time.
Medication, especially mind-altering medication, is a terribly personal thing. I respect every person’s decision not to talk about the subject, whatever the reasons.
I understand the need for privacy, especially when I see how ugly sensitivity and needing help are still talked about. No one wants to be trifled with.
At the same time, I am grateful for people like Miki, who talk directly about sensitive topics.
In several interviews, Miki spoke honestly about his depression, uncontrollable use of alcohol, undulating anxiety. About things that many people are only ready to talk about when they have been cleared up in some way.
Our way of talking only about challenges that have been overcome may create the impression that everyone else can get away with everything. That sorrows pass when you fight persistently. In reality, life doesn’t always work out that way. Some difficulties change shape, come back or stay where they are. It is important that such a thing also appears in the public debate.
It is often repeated in the face of tragedy that things should be talked about more openly. That we should be able to discuss even sensitive topics.
In this case, Miki was one of the few who was ready for it right away.