Lawmaker, heal thyself

California lawmakers are responsible for shaping mental health policy for millions — deciding how the state responds to crisis, expands treatment and addresses stigma.

But when it comes to their own mental health, many say the reality is far less structured.

“It’s incredibly stressful,” said former state Sen. Susan Talamantes Eggman, a licensed clinical social worker. “Even to be a public official, you are already kind of in a class by yourself, because you willingly put yourself in the most stressful situations that the common public could think of.”

The job demands long hours, constant travel and a steady stream of public scrutiny. Former and current lawmakers say these conditions can take a toll over time. That pressure exists where mental health challenges are already widespread — about one in seven California adults experiences a mental illness, according to the California Health Care Foundation.

“By nature of the job, legislators have to be hard-charging, and can often put their needs on the back burner until a crisis occurs,” Eggman said.

Even as lawmakers work to expand access to mental health care and reduce stigma for the public, their own experiences often remain private — shaped by informal coping, personal support systems and a political culture that can make vulnerability difficult.

For many lawmakers, managing that pressure comes down to personal strategies rather than institutional support.

“There aren’t a lot of built-in support systems,” Eggman said. “I think mostly it’s collegiality amongst members and everyone comes in as a fully developed person, hopefully with a support system already existing.”

In practice, that often means relying on family, close colleagues or individual routines to stay grounded — or simply pushing through the demands of the job. Eggman, who worked extensively on behavioral health policy, said maintaining her own mental health required “constant reflection” and a deliberate effort to stay focused on well-being while in office.

But that approach can leave gaps, especially when the stress of the job intensifies or personal challenges arise.

“By nature of the job, legislators have to be hard-charging, and can often put their needs on the back burner until a crisis occurs.”

Former Assemblymember Jim Beall, who chaired the Senate Select Committee on Mental Health and spent years advancing mental health legislation, said even basic support can be inconsistent, particularly after lawmakers leave office.

“While you’re in the legislature, you get your health coverage, and then when you leave, boom, it’s no longer there. It gets cut off,” Beall said. “That is a wicked thing, in my opinion, especially for mental health issues.”

Without consistent access to care, he said, the long-term impact of the job can become harder to manage — not just for individual lawmakers, but for the quality of decision-making itself.

“If people want better decisions in the legislature, they damn well better cover the health care,” Beall said.

On top of the lack of support, there’s still a stigma around mental health, and it can be even harder to talk about in politics.

Research has consistently shown that stigma remains a major barrier to seeking care, particularly in leadership roles where perceptions of strength and stability are closely tied to credibility.

The gap between public perception and private experience can make it harder for elected officials to acknowledge their own struggles.

“Do not compare your insides with somebody’s outsides,” said Claudia Dommaschk, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Davis, California. “Because you have no idea what’s going on inside that other person. And that is especially true for people on the top — they look like they have it all together, but they are just like you and me.”

Assemblymember Gail Pellerin (D-Santa Cruz) has taken a different approach — one shaped by personal experience and a belief that silence only reinforces stigma.

Her husband died by suicide, a loss she has spoken about publicly and one that led her to approach mental health not just as policy, but as something deeply human.

“One thing that led me to this position was wanting to be a voice and a face that openly, transparently and authentically speaks about mental health,” Pellerin said.

California has long been at the center of the nation’s mental health policy debates. The state’s landmark Lanterman-Petris-Short Act of 1967 reshaped how California handled mental illness, ending indefinite institutionalization and shifting the state toward community-based treatment.

In other high-pressure professions, structured mental health support has become more common. The U.S. Department of Justice has promoted peer-support programs for law enforcement agencies, including training, confidentiality policies and partnerships with mental health professionals. The military also uses embedded mental health services for active-duty personnel. No comparable system appears to exist for lawmakers.

But even as systems have evolved, the culture around mental health has been slower to change.

Former California Secretary of State Debra Bowen was among the few high-profile elected officials to speak publicly about her struggles with depression while in office, a rare move at the time.

“When I started in this area, nobody would talk about it, and very few people would talk about their own experiences,” former Sacramento Mayor Darrell Steinberg said. “When an issue of such importance is not talked about, it becomes that much harder to act to improve it.”

Steinberg, who served as Senate President pro Tem and later founded the Steinberg Institute — a nonprofit focused on advancing mental health policy in California — said that silence has historically been a barrier to progress. Even now, he said, openness remains uneven, though signs of change are emerging.

“When an issue of such importance is not talked about, it becomes that much harder to act to improve it.”

That shift has become more visible in recent years as elected officials have spoken more openly about their own mental health struggles. Last month, San Francisco Supervisor Jackie Fielder announced she was taking a leave of absence while navigating a mental health condition, saying she needed time to recover before deciding whether to remain in office. Her staff said she wanted to help with “breaking the cycle of stigma.”

“The fact that anyone in the Legislature has spoken on the record about mental health is a sign of progress,” Steinberg said.

Even so, the expectation that lawmakers project strength remains deeply ingrained.

For Pellerin, that expectation is something she actively pushes against. She said leadership should not mean pushing to the brink, but finding ways to sustain both personal well-being and public service.

“I think people want their elected representatives to be real people,” Pellerin said. “They don’t want us to be super powerful… they want us to be folks who are practicing what we’re preaching and are keeping our lives in balance as well.”

Even as more lawmakers begin to speak openly about mental health, the culture around public office is still catching up. Steinberg said that change will likely come from people willing to share their experiences.

“When it becomes normalized and becomes easier to talk about it, it helps propel us forward,” he said.