Mental Health and Disability Part Two: Where Society Needs to Catch Up

Late last year, I brought up an issue that was not discussed very much in the disability community, disability and mental health. As I thought about this blog, I remembered a recent email that I got, and it inspired me to revisit the issue. In the email was a story about how colleges are flunking mental health treatment.

            The article described a young boy, Dan, who had mental health issues and made a wrong choice one night in an attempt to overdose. To summarize, he did not overdose. He was having trouble dealing with a new medication, and once his medicine was adjusted, he was fine. However, his college did not treat him appropriately.

            His health center referred him to a hospital, which they should have done, but the administration's actions were incorrect.  Instead of recognizing a student in trouble, they treated Dan as if he was a criminal.

            My previous blog on mental health dealt with how society doesn't view depression correctly. This latest article in News Week confirms what I had written. Depression is still such a stigma that it is almost a dirty word even in higher education. What does this have to do with disability? It has everything to do with it. Depression and disability in general in our society is seen as something dirty. When it is said that someone is depressed or disabled, they are seen as unclean or unworthy. It is a shame that places of higher education are perpetuating this stereotype. I can speak from personal experience when I say that even higher education places view depression as a dirty word. Not only did they kick Dan out of his school involuntarily, but also they did a similar thing to me.

            It is said that the American land of immigrants is so afraid of difference. We will not be able to progress as a society if we do not understand that differences are fundamental to the growth, and not everyone is given the same skillset. Some of us must deal with obstacles that sometimes overwhelm us. We should not criminalize those who have depression or other mental health afflictions; instead, we should strive to ease their pain.

This will not happen if we do not admit that depression is not necessarily a bad thing. Depression, instead in most cases, is our body's' way of telling us to reexamine what is going on around us. I know most of society doesn't view depression the way I do, but regardless of whether you agree with me or not, you have to agree that society needs to be more accepting of mental health issues. If places of higher education are so educated, why can't they lead mental illness acceptance? The answer is simple.

Places of higher education are scared of mental illness for the same reason society is scared of mental illness. They are afraid that if we embrace mental illness for what it is, it is an admission that the human consciousness is not as self-reliant as society thinks it is. We need to accept that it is a part of the human condition to ask for help. It is a part of our condition to be reliant on others. Keeping up with the Jones's individualist type mentality that we currently live in, it is taboo to admit that you go against the grain and do not subscribe to the emotionalist culture we live in.

Colleges could be on the front lines of helping those who are depressed, but instead, they sit at the back of the class. It is time for a societal-wide change in disability and depression, and change can happen if it starts now. 

Mental Health and Disability

The last blog I wrote was entitled “The Acceptance Problem.” It talked about an issue that is not often discussed within the disabled community, that of disability identity versus complete identity. Now it is only appropriate to talk about another issue that is not talked about which is disability and depression.
       There are a variety of disabilities. There are the obvious types, which can be seen, in physical disabilities. There are also hidden disabilities that impact a person’s learning style such as Asperger’s, Dyslexia or Dysgraphia, just to name a few. However, one type of disability that is not often considered a “disability” is that of mental illness. Whether it is Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia, or Depression these can be very debilitating, when one combines these disorders with a physical disability, the discussion virtually stops.       

My battle with depression has led me to come to several conclusions about disability and depression in general, along with the treatment of those who happen to have both. As I have written many times, having a disability comes with many challenges, which include: social, physical, and emotional challenges. The profession of psychiatry and psychology is designed to deal with individuals that have depression, but not often do these practitioners encounter individuals with disabilities. This statement may be incorrect in factual nature but it is not erroneous when it comes to experience. I have battled depression for a long time.

In my late teens, I began to realize that I was different. One may ask, how could you not realize that you were physically different before that? My answer is that for the majority of my life I was treated as if I lived in two worlds. My parents, up to that point, had always treated me as if I wasn’t disabled. I don’t know if there was the intent here or not, but they never let me consider my disability as an obstacle, so I never did. They did their best to allow me to participate in every opportunity that everyone else did. The way they treated me, it never crossed my mind that I was different. However, that all changed in high school.

Adolescence is hard for everyone. Kids in middle school are trying to find out who they are, but they don’t even know that that’s what they’re trying to do. In high school and even at the end of middle school, people are trying to find their niche. I don’t know why, but cliques start to develop. Suddenly, the littlest difference is made obvious, and it is an individual’s goal to hide their difference. However, when one has such physical differences from their peers, it’s kind of hard to hide. I’m not saying that children are malicious on purpose; just that society has taught us to fear difference.

As I began to become aware of my difference for the first time, it was kind of a slap in the face. I took out my anger on my Mom, Dad, and younger sister. The relationship I had with them throughout those years was not the prettiest. And for the constant fights I caused, I apologize. When I first began to deal with depression, I did not handle it properly. I did not seek out professional help. I don’t know whether its because I had been taught by society to fear the stigma that comes with dealing with emotional issues, or what it was, I just know I didn’t handle it properly.

In fact, it was not until an extremely dark incident in my late twenties, that I began to seek help. Many who read this might be uncomfortable with what I’m about to say, but I will honestly say that I had reached the end of my rope. Through a series of incidents, I realized that something needed to be done about the way I approached life and my disability overall. I thought that accepting the problem for what it was and dealing with it would be the biggest hurdle that I had to overcome, but I was wrong.

As I began dealing with the mental health profession, I realized that there was a disconnect between mental health professionals and the disabled community. Most of the mental health professionals that I dealt with seem to think that once I accepted my disability that I would not be depressed anymore. For their part, they were partly right, accepting my disability was part of my problem but not the whole problem.

Acceptance is only the first step. And that is only part of the depression at least for me when it comes to disability. For years I’ve complained that there are two types of disabled people, people that are okay with it and people that are not. However, I’ve recently learned that this is not necessarily the case. There is a third type of disabled person. One who is okay with their disability from a personal standpoint, but who is not okay with society’s treatment of persons with disabilities. Honestly, I can say that I fall into this third category.

It is hard to take the mental health profession and mental health professionals seriously when they do not often believe that there is room for this third type of person with a disability. Luckily, currently, I have the pleasure of working with Dr. Michael Mercatoris who has given me permission to use his name. Mr. Mercatoris is the first one of his kind that I have worked with, who seems to understand that depression and disability is a two-pronged problem.

First an individual, in this case, me, has to accept themselves for who they are and not what society thinks they should be. Secondly, an individual has to realize that there will be societal obstacles associated with their physical disability that may cause depression. The depression will not go away simply because society is not ready for such a radical change and full acceptance of disability as a norm. Rather anyone dealing with depression or a mental illness along with a physical disability must be willing to go against the grain. They must be willing to stand up for who they are and what they are and must be willing to sacrifice in order for society to slowly change, that being said, there are other things that need to happen as well.

If one accepts the premise that depression is going to be associated with disability from day to day, there are certain things that must occur. The mental health community in general needs to be better equipped to deal with i.e. help those with physical disabilities along with their mental health issues. One might ask: how can they do this? I don’t have all the answers but one answer might lie in the way they treat individuals in inpatient and outpatient programs. For example, if one is so desperate that they need to go into an inpatient facility and they have a physical disability, it might be appropriate for all involved with the individual to make sure that that the facility has adequate personal care available while participating in the inpatient the program so that they are not worried about their physical care needs to be met along with their mental health needs. As far as my own personal experience, I can recommend that providers may want to be more open to the idea that individuals with disabilities are intelligent beings and perhaps their pain or emotional issues go deeper than not accepting themselves for who they are, but perhaps they are too reflective for their own good and realize that society is in a sad state of affairs when it comes to disability. Although it is the 21^st century, in some aspects of disability, society is still in the middle ages. This may be a hard pill to swallow for many who are disabled, including myself. However regardless of how hard it is to swallow, the disabled community should have outlets in the mental health community who understand us as people and not just a disorder. Thankfully, I have found two, Dr. Michael Mercatoris and my aunt Eileen. For that I am very thankful. 

The Acceptance Problem: It’s Yours, Not Mine

Okay, so usually I don’t write two in a day, but something has been on my mind lately, and the blog I posted earlier wasn’t an original piece of writing. Instead, it was forwarding an inspirational story. So here’s my daily food for thought.
       I warn you that this blog may unsettle some, and it may make you uncomfortable. The un-comfortableness will come from the overuse of swear words or a sexual conversation. It might come from looking at “ourselves” (society in general) in the near. Some of you may not like what you see if you are honest with yourself. 
       I am two and a half weeks away from finishing my Master’s Degree at my school in  Northwestern, Pennsylvania. As I complete this round of my academic work, I am forced to reflect. For the last nineteen years of my life, give or take a semester or two, I have been on the “right path.” We all are required in the end states to enroll in 12 years of compulsory education. After that, different paths can emerge depending on the individual. My approach has been full of curves and wrong turns and such.
       Now some of you may say, “But you’ve told us before you have two Bachelor’s degrees and just said you’re getting your Master’s Degree! What more could you want?” And to be honest, I reflected on this question for several weeks now. I even talked to varying sources, and many of them have told me this, “You are at crisscross roads in your life because you didn’t accept your disability sooner and set your expectations reasonably.” To them, I say it is not that I have the acceptance problem. It is you. “You,” in this case, being social. Even my parents and my shrink (who I occasionally go to) maintain my sanity have remarked that perhaps a little bit of my problem is accepting my disability. 
       Is my problem accepting my disability, or instead is it accepting what society thinks I should be? Limited to or capable of because of my disability. I believe it is the latter, and I will say this straight out. You’re damn, right! I don’t accept limitations put on me by anyone except myself. If that means I have an acceptance problem, then I guess I do. 
       Last Christmas, I asked for a book on the history of the disability rights movement entitled “What We Have Done: An Oral History of the Disability Rights Movement.” I have not been able to steadily read that book due to my Master’s Program requirements, but tonight when I read Chapter 3: Discrimination, I realized not much has changed from the ’50s to today. Some of you may say, but we have the ADA! Society is much more accepting of disability! To that, I must sarcastically laugh. Yes, the ADA has removed the barriers physically to many of the obstacles that face the disabled community. What it has not done is to remove the societal stigmas that come with disability. For example, there was a story in the third chapter of the book about Johnnie Lacy, a disabled individual who wanted to be a teacher, very much like myself. Lacy was systemically persuaded not to be by the same institution, allowing her to take special education classes. When I read this story, I couldn’t help by seeing myself.         
       Yes, I will have three degrees in about two-and-a-half weeks. Still, the route a lot of my college education (especially recently), I have been persuaded or “recommended” not to pursue the paths I follow. The problem is that we fight, and we fight for so long because we know we’re capable of doing whatever we put our minds to. Still, eventually, it’s not necessarily that we give up, but we come to a realization when the whole institutional system is against you. And you have no allies except the people that know you personally; there’s not much you can do. Even though my parents and counselors (and even friends) believe that I am perfectly capable of teaching, they do not have any power when it comes to educational institutions.
       Eventually, I just gave in, so I will walk away with a degree that I will not be able to use. Because yet again, this happened. When I expressed this sediment to this and others around me, they remarked that I haven’t accepted my disability and need to be more realistic about my expectations. To them—in this format, I say you might be wrong. Screw that. I am not bitter and am perfectly aware of my limitations. What I do not accept is the lack of opportunity in the greatest country in the world. We have the Americans with Disabilities Act, that “gold standard of disability law,” but it hasn’t done jack shit when it comes to disability and equality. Just because we can get into a building doesn’t mean society wants us there, and that is the next struggle that the disability rights movement will have to undertake. 
       Finally, someone liked the comparison, but as I dive deeper into the disability rights movement and find my voice, I can’t help but compare our struggles to African Americans in the ’60s. They were discriminated against because of some God-given skin pigment, and people like me, whether wheelchair-bound or disabled in some other way. I am discriminated against because society has such a screwed up perception. Not because we are flawed but because the company itself is flawed. It may take to the end of my life and beyond to fix that problem. Right here and now, I dedicate myself to making life better for further generations of disabled Americans and disabled individuals around the world. 

Hey! Down here!

So, it's been nearly a week since the last time I posted here.  This is not to say that there haven't been things bubbling around in my mind, just that I've been a little busy.  Since the last time I wrote, I've been busy promoting the blog by creating a Facebook page.  You can now show your support for the blog and disability advocacy in general by visiting The Voiceless Minority on Facebook.  I've also been busy continuing to write my first full-length screenplay.  Now, however, it is time to get back to the meat of things. 

       I've written extensively about several different issues, including how disabled people desire to be treated equally but still use the "Disney World" principle, as I like to call it, cut lines, etc.  While I've said that, in most cases, disabled people do want equality and strive for it legitimately, it does not mean that they are always supported in their efforts.  I've also written about social acceptance and disability.  However, this past week, this issue has come up twice.  The issue has not arisen in my personal life, but I've had friends and acquaintances mention it.  Therefore, I thought I would write this blog. But I would take a different approach. 

       I have mentioned that legislation cannot legislate acceptance, and while I know that this is not my view alone, a young woman powerfully drove this point home in a poem. Sarah Smith is a young woman who has the same disability that I do, cerebral palsy.  I first met Sarah several years ago.  We both attended the same university.  I am not going to mince words. Sarah and I haven't always gotten along. Still, we've grown to respect one another because of our drive and determination to prove that, although we have obstacles that society calls disabilities, these obstacles do not define us.  What follows is the poem that this driven young woman has written.  It is used here with her permission.  Thank you, Sarah.

 

"I was born too early

small, fragile, and weak

they thought I would not survive.

But along with my will to live,

another token was bestowed upon me;

one that I didn't want to ask for or need.

 

"What is this token," you ask?

Well, the answer is quite simple.

For it is a cloak

of invisibility.

 

I carry it with me

throughout my life.

It was given to me by society

and shallow close-minded souls,

who believe my disability

defines me.

 

They walk right past me,

never bothering getting to know

the person beneath.

Or worse yet,

they pretend they care,

but really,

I'm just a pit stop,

until something better comes along.

 

To those cowardly people,

I say, "your loss."

You are missing out

on meeting someone

who is loyal, honest, and loving

through and through.

 

For those who have taken the time

to look beneath the label,

thank you

for giving me a chance

to live and love

undefined and free."

 

 

 

       Being nonobjective for a second, I must say that I love the poem.  I may not agree with everything that Sarah has ever said, but I was stopped dead in my Facebook clicking when I read this.  Back to objectivity now, if one indeed looks at Sarah's words, they cannot help but be struck by them.  Sarah brings to light a well overdue point.  Not only are disabled people often brushed aside like second or even third-class citizens, but they are also often unwantedly pitied and patronized.  We, as a group, is either exalted as heroes or we are wallflowers.  People rarely take the time to know us as people; instead, they get to see the machine or device with the person in it. They do not see, as Sarah says, a person who is loving, honest, and loyal, instead they see someone to feel bad for or to judge.  Sadly, this not only occurs in the general public, and the realm of academia, but it often occurs in social settings.  By this, I mean, we are not only looked down on by waiters in restaurants who glance at our companion to give our order, and professors when we reach the higher levels of education, but mainly we are looked down on by our peers.

       Now, when it comes to social invisibility, I refer to two ideas.  One is that we are not perceived to be capable or worthy of being in a romantic relationship.  While this idea is most infuriating to me, being in my late twenties and being human, I do feel that this is secondary to the second idea.  It is even more frustrating when our peers brush off our intellect in regular conversation and everyday interaction, and they brush off our ability to behave like them.  How often I hear the words, "You like to do that, you're disabled," or "But you're in a wheelchair," or "That's weird, I wasn't expecting you to act like that." It is almost like we are visible and invisible at the same time.  Well, it is time that the disabled community, as a whole, is recognized for who we are as people, and not just for the disabilities that we have to overcome.