E-Kantipur

Mental illness is not without its share of stigma, discrimination, and ostracism that those tasked with being mentally ill have to bear. It’s most certainly not without the isolation and loneliness that characterise their lives. I say “tasked with” because not everyone is ‘privileged’ to experience mental illness and consequently a state of being that is so far-removed from any ordinary way of thinking and feeling. Because only someone who could “see smells, touch sounds, hear sights” and tell the world that “a rose is just a rose to you/to me it’s Helen and Padmini/you are forceful prose/I liquid verse” could transcend the ordinary ways of thinking and feeling and create the aptly titled poem Paagal (“Crazy”) to become the poet Laxmi Prasad Devkota.

But just like another poet, the reclusive Emily Dickinson had forewarned in one of her sonnets—“Assent and you are sane/Demur,—you’re straightway dangerous/And handled with a chain”—Devkota was taken to a mental asylum in Ranchi (India) to be treated for his non-conformist thoughts and unconventional feelings. Dickinson herself is believed to have struggled with some kind of mental illness—conjectures ranging from epilepsy to bipolar disorder.

Not everyone with a mental illness is a Devkota, a Bhairab Aryal, a Beethoven, a Newton, a Van Gogh, or a Nijinsky. Brilliance has long been associated with mental struggle. Adding more to the known and guesswork on the unknown will be missing the point. But let’s examine the two most probable questions in your mind right now. First, you may ask, “Ok, so what is an ordinary way of thinking and feeling?”

Let’s consider this—what could be more ordinary than to think of mentally ill people as just a bunch of psychopathic criminals, neurotic nutcases, homeless scavengers scratching their privates in public as they rummage through trash, or vagabonds raving their uncensored internal monologues in the middle of a street? And what could be more ordinary than to feel that they are merely some repulsive creatures who deserve to be scorned, feared, and denied any empathy and any rights? Sounds harsh, doesn’t it? Yet, this is how most people think and feel about mental illness and those it assails.

The next most probable question in your mind is, “How can people shed such ordinary ways of thinking and feeling about mentally ill people?” It is not an easy task. For instance, if I suggested that you volunteer at a mental hospital and spend time with mentally ill patients to understand them better, you’d probably cringe and say, “Are you crazy? I am

not a student of psychology or social work or medicine. Besides, I don’t have the time.” And you couldn’t be faulted for believing that. The “task” of understanding mental illness is almost always left to those with classified interest (e.g., mental health professionals, activists) or close stake in it (e.g., family members). Otherwise, it’s nobody else’s business.

It is in this perception where thinking about mental illness becomes ordinary and keeps the truth at bay—because the truth is that even those who regularly interact with mentally ill people labour to understand, and more importantly, to appreciate the mentally ill “person”. They may understand the illness, its symptoms, its treatment and all the clinical information available on the subject. Appreciating the “person”, however, requires different skills—sensitivity, insight, and creativity. Lofty words, yes. But these are the precise skills required and they cannot be actualised simply by volunteering at a mental hospital. And so I wouldn’t suggest you to do so—not right away at least. Why not? Because the idea of interacting with a mentally ill person can be very intimidating for people and they will often not know what to say or do.

Preconceived notions drilled in by popular beliefs and attitudes toward mental illness activate in people the fear, apprehension, and even loathing of the mentally ill person. Furthermore, mental hospitals are largely (mis)conceived of as “loony bins” with the patients as uncontrollable, even animalistic characters who may claw at people’s throat viciously when approached. Sounds exaggerated? Try asking, even casually, people in your social sphere how they perceive mental hospitals and their patients—you’d be in for a surprise. Try asking yourself, and you may be even more so. It is more advisable, therefore, to start from a less threatening place and navigate your way to understanding and appreciating mentally ill people. Sensitivity, insight, and creativity will begin to form themselves as you go along. Seems unrealistic? With time, and commitment on your part, you’ll find that it’s doable. It’s like trying to lose weight—you start with the right attitude.

So where is this less threatening place to begin? Books—narratives of mental illness written by people who have struggled with it first hand and provided the world to see and know the experience. For instance, The Diary of Vaslav Nijinsky can open for people the world of schizophrenia as experienced by the brilliant ballet dancer. Similarly, Joanne Greenberg’s I never promised you a rose garden gives a fictionalised version of her treatment for schizophrenia by renowned psychoanalyst Frieda Fromm-Reichmann. Kay Redfield Jamison’s An unquiet mind tells the story of her life with bipolar disorder, despite being a successful psychiatrist herself.

In her autobiography Thinking in pictures Temple Grandin discusses her struggle with autism and success as a professor of animal science. These are just examples of the kinds of narratives from among many others where people can begin to examine and learn about mentally ill people. Besides, who can know better about mental illness than the person who has lived through it? Not the mental health professional or activist or family member. The mental health professional can facilitate treatment, the activist can lobby for their rights, and the family member can give different forms of support. But these alone will not suffice in addressing one of the most critical needs of mentally ill people—to feel a sense of belonging and appreciation for who they are. For that to happen, the world of the mentally ill must include a wider community that can offer them both. And for that to happen, the community needs to be able to think and feel in no ordinary ways.

(The author is a psychologist)

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