Welcome to My Personal Hell...Did You All Have Fun?
OCTOBER 30, 2017—Tonight I’m in a cornfield touted as a thrilling Halloween haunt. I didn’t know my friends would be bringing me here. My stomach aches as dark melodies float through waves of fog and flashing strobes. I’m forced by the crowd into dark corners with threatening figures and painted masks. Then I’m funneled slowly toward a smoking, broken-down bus labeled, “Psychiatric Ward.” I step inside. A pale woman sits in the back muttering and rocking quietly. Back and forth. I’m pushed closer. Back and forth. Closer. Back and forth.
She screams violently and my body shakes. She thrashes and writhes. Her restraints pull her back. Muttering. Screaming. Shaking. Rocking.
Welcome to my nightmares. Welcome to my personal hell. Did you all have fun?
In 2015 I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder. I was a sophomore in college. That semester I thought about killing myself every day. I withdrew from school. I lost my scholarship. I could’ve lost more. Two years later I find that version of myself being featured in a haunted cornfield—wild and trapped in a rotting bus as people laugh and scream past me.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, nearly 1 in 5 adults live with mental illness in the United States. Four percent of the population has a serious mental health condition; of those more are women, young adults, and of mixed races. In adolescents there is a 50% lifetime prevalence of mental illness. The Center for Disease Control and Prevention reports suicide as the leading cause of death in 2017 from age 10 to 34, second only to accidents. Homicide rates follow closely behind.
Serious illness can lead to the loss of family support, jobs, financial security, and stability. I applaud public and private entities that protect and care for the mental health of our citizens. I am grateful for increased sensitivity and accessibility to mental health resources and for the great advances our country makes in providing increased social and medical support. Still--how much do we recognize the private and public discrimination of individuals with mental illness?
Evidence of that discrimination sits on our streets, in our prisons, and on our television screens. Approximately 3 in 10 homeless individuals suffer from severe mental illness, frequently untreated and unprotected by law as reported by the Treatment Advocacy Center, a national nonprofit organization. The Bureau of Justice reports an estimated 61% of women and 44% of men in federal prisons have mental health conditions. In local and state jails those numbers rise an additional 10-15%. Researchers from John Hopkins School of Public Health found that news outlets report disproportionately high rates of interpersonal violence compared to actual rates of violence associated with mental illness. The entertainment industry profits from criminalizing our mentally ill. Films teach us that feelings are unmanageable; violence solves problems; mental suffering only comes in extremes. Psychopaths are glamorized; abuse and trauma are sensationalized. Even local Halloween haunts feature dangerous psychiatric patients lurking around corners.
We dehumanize men, women and children with mental illness through our language, treatment, and misrepresentation. We discriminate against those individuals. I wonder if in our private lives we even notice those who are suffering behind closed doors—or if we simply say, “she looks fine to me,” like the negligent clinician who skipped an indicated screen for suicide.
Mental illness is treatable and manageable. People don’t have to die or go to jail or lose their jobs. We can create needed change in our local communities and homes. We can help form better laws, combat the culture of violence and unmanageable feelings, and make our schools and places of work accessible to those with disability. Our communities can be better and safer, but it begins with us.
How human we all must be, to make so many monsters of men. We must work very hard to make them human again. What can you do to make your community a better place?
She screams violently and my body shakes. She thrashes and writhes. Her restraints pull her back. Muttering. Screaming. Shaking. Rocking.
Welcome to my nightmares. Welcome to my personal hell. Did you all have fun?
In 2015 I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder. I was a sophomore in college. That semester I thought about killing myself every day. I withdrew from school. I lost my scholarship. I could’ve lost more. Two years later I find that version of myself being featured in a haunted cornfield—wild and trapped in a rotting bus as people laugh and scream past me.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, nearly 1 in 5 adults live with mental illness in the United States. Four percent of the population has a serious mental health condition; of those more are women, young adults, and of mixed races. In adolescents there is a 50% lifetime prevalence of mental illness. The Center for Disease Control and Prevention reports suicide as the leading cause of death in 2017 from age 10 to 34, second only to accidents. Homicide rates follow closely behind.
Serious illness can lead to the loss of family support, jobs, financial security, and stability. I applaud public and private entities that protect and care for the mental health of our citizens. I am grateful for increased sensitivity and accessibility to mental health resources and for the great advances our country makes in providing increased social and medical support. Still--how much do we recognize the private and public discrimination of individuals with mental illness?
Evidence of that discrimination sits on our streets, in our prisons, and on our television screens. Approximately 3 in 10 homeless individuals suffer from severe mental illness, frequently untreated and unprotected by law as reported by the Treatment Advocacy Center, a national nonprofit organization. The Bureau of Justice reports an estimated 61% of women and 44% of men in federal prisons have mental health conditions. In local and state jails those numbers rise an additional 10-15%. Researchers from John Hopkins School of Public Health found that news outlets report disproportionately high rates of interpersonal violence compared to actual rates of violence associated with mental illness. The entertainment industry profits from criminalizing our mentally ill. Films teach us that feelings are unmanageable; violence solves problems; mental suffering only comes in extremes. Psychopaths are glamorized; abuse and trauma are sensationalized. Even local Halloween haunts feature dangerous psychiatric patients lurking around corners.
We dehumanize men, women and children with mental illness through our language, treatment, and misrepresentation. We discriminate against those individuals. I wonder if in our private lives we even notice those who are suffering behind closed doors—or if we simply say, “she looks fine to me,” like the negligent clinician who skipped an indicated screen for suicide.
Mental illness is treatable and manageable. People don’t have to die or go to jail or lose their jobs. We can create needed change in our local communities and homes. We can help form better laws, combat the culture of violence and unmanageable feelings, and make our schools and places of work accessible to those with disability. Our communities can be better and safer, but it begins with us.
How human we all must be, to make so many monsters of men. We must work very hard to make them human again. What can you do to make your community a better place?
Thank you Alexis. I will ponder that question and do something. It's scary having a mental illness and being afraid I will end up like "one of them." But it is manageable and I don't have to go to jail or lose a job because of it. I've never stepped back and realized how much harder the media does make it for us. Especially when you're already prone to thinking the worst of yourself, add on "the world's" view and it's a recipe for fear of oneself and what oneself is capable of doing. But being aware of this will help me step back and see objectively that that is the media, not the truth.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much for this post. Such poignant, needed points.
My something might be posting my experience on Facebook. This topic has been on the forefront of my mind recently, and your thoughts tie up all the loose ends (this may be premature for me to say but my initial reaction is that it is the case).