Kathryn Cohan Who am I
now?
continued: page 2
For the vast majority of persons with serious mental illness, onset occurs at ages
18-21. Perhaps this may have something to do with the brain being the last organ to
mature.
Psychologically speaking, the timing is interesting. Nearly all of the major schools of
practical psychology (i.e. the kind upon which therapies are founded) mark this period as
a crisis on the way to formation of adult identity. In Erikson's Stages of Psychosocial
Development, for example, adolescence is characterized by the conflict of
"identity vs. confusion" and early adulthood by the conflict of "intimacy
vs. isolation." Persons with mental illness do not stop in our journeys through these
conflicts as a direct result of having a mental illness, but the diverse experiences
contained within the category of human behavior described by the term "mental
illness," sure do complicate the process of working through these "normal"
steps to maturity. The timing of the event of a first episode of mental illness is, for
this reason, not insignificant.
With rare exceptions most schools of thought -- psychology, emotional and intellectual
development, philosophy, education -- have written off persons with mental illness as
being so "abnormal", and our experiences are perceived as being so inaccessible,
that there is almost nothing written about the process of growth, the formation of
identity, and the path towards maturing with a mental illness. A review of the literature
finds a lot of material that describes and classifies symptoms, makes treatment
recommendations in a broad way and based on the medical model, and cautions against the
use of traditional therapies in work with persons with extreme states. We have been left
out of most contemporary thinking about the human condition, and have been abandoned to
concepts like "maintenance" and "rehabilitation" to describe the very
best of which we are capable. It appears from the literature that once mental illness
begins, all other development stops. Once the label -- whatever it is -- has been applied,
the person's identity is subjugated to the extraordinarily powerful description of the
label. Thus, the label becomes the focus, and the person is lost.
A clue to this shunning of the mad may be found in Simi Linton's book
Claiming
Disability: Knowledge and Identity, which identifies and reviews six categories of
global historical experience of persons with disabilities. The first, most primitive,
societal response to disability is termed "pariah."
The first thing the word pariah conjures up is the dictionary
definition of "social outcast." I notice that I envision lepers, homeless
people, drug and alcohol addicted people who have hit "bottom," people who, for
a variety of reasons, have either abandoned or been abandoned by mainstream society. But
nowhere in my musings on the term pariah do persons with mental illness exist.
I ask myself why that would be so, and conclude that persons with mental illness are not
included in the pariah list because, in fact, we do not think of the mentally ill at all.
Persons with mental illness are cultural pariahs in the extreme. We have been disappeared
from consideration, we are the outcasts of outcasts. In all my childhood thinking of the
possibilities for myself as a grown up, it never once occurred to me that I'd be mentally
ill along with all the other things I am. I knew I had an uncle with some sort of
psychiatric problem, but that was his problem, not mine. The family stories that were
handed down did not include him. It never occurred to me to ask why. I learned early on,
like most people, that mental illness is so far out of reach that it doesn't deserve
consideration.
While this is, unfortunately, an accurate description of the way many persons with
mental illness are regarded in society, it also has personal meaning, and is given
personal expression in the lives of persons with mental illness. On an individual level,
the way some of us internalize or understand "pariah" is denial. The literal
"casting out" of the labeled self. In psychoanalytical terms, this is
"introjection." We take in the messages and meaning assigned to the experience
of having mental illness, which are all extremely negative when they exist at all, and
close off from ourselves that part of our being that contains the negative message. We
wall it off and decide it just doesn't exist. We are disappeared by mainstream culture
because of our extreme states, and, consequently, we disappear our extreme states, drive
them underground, cleave them away from our valued self in an effort to maintain a sense
of personal integrity.
In any other human endeavor, denial is seen as protective. It is viewed as a natural
human response to trauma, including death, loss and natural disaster. It is here that the
exceptionalizing of the experience of mental illness begins. Because to have a denial
response to the event of mental illness is not viewed as a normal response to a traumatic
event, it is, rather, viewed as proof of the condition of being mentally ill. There is a
great deal of literature on the topic of denial as it pertains to mental illness. Denial
is thought to be causal in "non-compliance" with our medication and "lack
of insight" into our illness. Instead of viewing denial as a natural and necessary
part of coming to grips with a catastrophic personal event, denial is pathologized.
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