Archive
Talk about it.
Last week, I had the honor of being a guest on my friend, Dennis’ podcast. Dennis’ podcasts for his site, Service of Change, highlight personal experiences with social change, community building, and leadership. I talked with Dennis and his co-host, Joel, about mental health and cultural stigma as a barrier to wellness and healthy communities. The more we talk about our experiences, the more we can help heal ourselves and our neighbors.
Give it a listen:
Talk about it.
These are some questions I should ask myself as a clinician to help me talk about suicide.
Mental health plays a massive part in both my personal and professional life. I’ve written a lot here about my mother’s struggle with borderline personality disorder, depression, and her eventual suicide. I’ve done my best to share my own issues with anxiety, loss, and trauma. As a social worker, I am neck-deep in depression, anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, substance abuse, and a variety of other emotional and behavioral issues. My work in mental health has taught me how profoundly alone people feel in their struggles. By providing psycho-education for my clients, I have the chance to normalize their experiences with pain, hopeless and isolation. I work with them so they can feel empowered to take charge of their well-being. We also try to come up with ways for them to share what they’ve learned with others. So often, the act of giving back serves as a powerful factor in a person’s coping and healing.
This Wednesday, I have a chance to do some giving back of my own. My friend, Brandi, is organizing a social media campaign to connect all of us out there who have been impacted by depression . The hope is to alleviate the taboo and stigma around mental illness. Brandi’s campaign, #DayOfLight, will take place this Wednesday, February 5th. I will support Brandi by sharing my professional knowledge on how individuals can seek mental health treatment, advocate for themselves, and participate in peer support. I’m so excited to be a part of this campaign because I’m tired of us treating our mental health and emotional struggles like inconveniences that should be kept secret. I don’t want to perpetuate cycles of shame and self-hate. So I’m going to be a part of the conversation.
If you want to learn more about the #DayOfLight, go here.
.
What can happen in a year.
Yesterday marked my one year anniversary at my job. Last fall, I was hired as clinical case manager for a permanent supportive housing facility for formerly homeless adults with co-occurring mental health disorders. The residents I work with cope with an array of challenging mental health conditions, such as substance abuse, Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia, Major Depressive Disorder, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. While living in supportive housing, residents can stay as long as they need to regain stability in their lives and work towards personal goals for independence. My agency houses 66 residents and I work with 33 of them. At times, 33 clients seems manageable. Not everyone is in crisis all the time, and many of my clients are secure in forging their own path in life–enrolling in educational programs, working full-time and part-time jobs, or enjoying time as a grandparent. However, since many of our residents are coping with poverty, life-threatening illnesses, relapse, loss, and past and present trauma, sometimes 33 clients seems overwhelming and I find myself questioning how well I can do my job. I love our residents. They show me insight, reflection, empathy, intelligence, creativity, and humor. Even those that struggle hold tremendous potential.
In the past week, I’ve been smashed with a handful of relapses, evictions, and loss. In the case of some of these clients, I know I already did everything I could. I was available. I extended resources. I was there. I know that. For a couple of these individuals, though, I feel cheated. I remember when I first met them. They were hostile and condescending. They yelled. I was defensive and avoidant. The night before I was to meet with them, I’d pray they wouldn’t show up. But I am stubborn and hate feeling lazy or scared. So I stepped it up. No more me versus them. We would be a team. So we talked. We decided to be honest. We decided to disagree respectfully. We set our boundaries. We made compromises. After several months, these few individuals who used to glare at me in the hall or straight up ignore me would wave hello to me from two blocks away. They started peeking their heads in my office to say hi. After receiving an achievement certificate, I went to shake one man’s hand, but he went in for a hug instead. I was floored. I still can’t believe it.
I recognize that these people elected to change. They put in a lot of painful work on their own. Some did extra work with family, support groups, and intensive therapy. I will never take credit for their evolution. As I think about these clients, I am thinking about how they made me change. By engaging me in conflict, they made me face my own insecurity and fear. In other cases, I have clients who used to be unresponsive, self-conscious, and silent in my office. Now we can smile and joke when we talk. These individuals taught me to be patient and comfortable with silence. I didn’t know these changes were possible when I started this job. I didn’t know how much agency a person can have over their own life until I saw these immeasurable steps forward. And for me, I didn’t know that I could put my pride, defensiveness, and need for control aside so I could give other people the space they needed.
Over the next few weeks and months, I have to say goodbye to some clients. Not all of them are leaving on their own terms. Some of them, I might not even get the chance to say goodbye. My supervisor told me to remember that all the good these people embody will go with them after they leave. It’s hard to convince myself that everything will be OK for them in the end, but hope is important. Without hope, there’s no future. And I want to be at my job for another year.
Uphill 