My Therapist, My Self

My Therapist, My Self
A Stand-Up Comedy Routine Performed by Carl Blumenthal
Editor’s Note: Carl performed a different version of “My Therapist, My Self” at the July 19, 2018 New York City Peer Specialist Conference.
Carl: Welcome everyone. Welcome. It’s an honor and a privilege to perform at the NYC peer specialist conference. I call this skit “My Therapist, My Self” because my therapist, Nina, and I are as tight as…well, Michelle and Barack. But don’t take that the wrong way.
First a disclaimer: No mental health workers were harmed during the making of this comic routine. I really love my therapist and psychiatrist. 
You’ll hear today a sample of what Nina and I talk about during our therapy sessions. Because Nina’s big on patient-centered care, she’s going to let me say a thing or two about my recovery. Right, Nina?  
Nina: I can’t promise you anything. That’s because I’m a refugee from the Soviet Union, a socialist turned social worker. I left when the KGB wanted to lock me in a mental hospital for demonstrating against the regime. Now I’m afraid the CIA is following me.
Carl: Aren’t we all paranoid? Thankfully we live in a democracy with separation of church and state. That means we can choose between possession by the devil and surveillance by OMH. God bless America!
Nina: Here’s something else to celebrate: Due to the insanity of global warming, the National Weather Bureau is changing the names of hurricanes to brands of psychotropic medication. Now, we’ll have every drug from Adderall to Zoloft to thank for our destruction. 
Carl: On a lighter note, have you heard this joke: If New York doesn’t drive you nuts your therapist will. 
Nina: That’s right Carl. So, take a hike—if the subway’s late. Grow your own—if the food’s rotten. And pay the price—if Medicaid won’t. For God’s sake, take responsibility for your recovery.”
Carl: Talk about responsibility. Do you remember the day I found you in your office tearing up your abnormal psychology textbook? 
Nina: Yes, I thought some smarty pants doctor had discovered a cure for mental illness. Thank God he was wrong. Just think how bad that would’ve been for business.  
Carl: Even if you were ready to throw Freud out the window, there’s no denying the importance of childhood trauma? I remember one of my mother’s religious fits, when she tried to drown me in the bathtub—a test of whether I could walk on water like Jesus.
Nina: Forget your mother. You’ll learn a lot more from my books: How to Take the Mad out of Madness, Why Therapists Make Lousy Lovers, and Medical Marijuana is the Best Thing Since Thorazine
Carl: Self-help is great. But what about empowering peers with mental illness? When discussing my case with doctors you’re all about my poor insight, low competency skills, and lack of impulse control. Sounds like I need toilet training.
Nina; Don’t worry. I’m no fan of shrinks. They’re like tour guides showing you a foreign country where the language is impersonal and condescending. To them you’re just a broken machine that needs fixing. 
Carl: As far as I’m concerned, my treatment team analyzes me as if they’re picking meat from my bones. If only they’d invite me to lunch, I’d bring my homemade barbecue sauce. The secret ingredients are lithium and Prozac.
Nina: At least I’m interested in your dreams. Not the ones about becoming a chef. The nightmares about losing your health insurance. Who will pay me for putting up with your craziness? 
Carl: If you need money so badly, why did you become a social worker? I hear you wanted to be a doctor but flunked anatomy. I hope that doesn’t mean you think my mind is a compound fracture.  
Nina: Are you worried I don’t take your bipolar disorder seriously? My job is to keep you from doing anything foolish. If you fly without a parachute and land in a garbage dump, I’ll kick your butt.
Carl: So, what’s your reaction to this dream? I’m in heaven. The American Psychiatric Association and the big drug companies sit in judgement next to God. Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin both demand admission. While the Donald claims he’ll make America great again, Vlad swears Russia already rules the world. God’s diagnosis: “You’re both deluded. Now take your Risperdal.” 
Nina: Doctors think they’re gods and God thinks he’s a doctor. What’s a social worker to do? 
Carl: How about joining the peer movement for better mental health? Admit it. Social workers are in denial about their own mental illness. Jump on the bandwagon before psychiatrists claim they’re sicker than you are. 
Nina: Does that mean we get to counsel each other?
Carl: Of course. I’m sure you have a recipe for ribs you’re dying to share with me.

Is Your House A Castle or a Toxic Dump?

By Chato B. Stewart

Discovering the Bible turned my life around

I grew up in a Toxic Dump! No, really, in the 50s, before the housing development, the area was a swamp and an illegal toxic dump site.

I grew up in an emotionally toxic environment as well. My father’s uncontrolled rage and anger issues stemmed from undiagnosed bipolar disorder (dad was diagnosed shortly before his death). Along with this undiagnosed mental disorder, he was also heavily medicated on painkillers from a work accident that happened when I was four years-old. Needless to say, this added more pain to an already volatile and toxic home environment.

My father had twisted ways of expressing love. During my childhood he called me stupid, retarded, worthless, and a host of other insults. Best of all he showed me that a belt wasn’t just for holding up your pants…it's a handy disciplinary tool.

I learned hate, rage, and prejudice as part of my toxic education. Escaping, fleeing that toxicity seemed insurmountable! Entering my teens, I already had a nickname in the projects: “Psycho Stew” with a troublemaker reputation during my grooming to be a thug. My lifesaver was Bible study.

When I say the Bible saved my life, I really mean it. Studying with a local religious group for the first time had a purpose and it made sense. Learning that stealing, lying, and hurting others physically and emotionally was wrong seemed foreign to me. Growing up I was taught “deny, deny, deny and lie, lie, lie!” That was part of my toxic education. Learning negative coping skills such as self-injury and violence was second nature. Even though I was studying the Bible, I wasn’t totally getting the concept that stealing was wrong. I think this is where the mental illness took over.

Believing that I was some type of modern-day Robin Hood, I stole and gave everything away. It was my delusion that I was doing something good by stealing. How wrong I was! Through what I learned from my Bible study, I gradually began detoxifying my life. I stopped getting high and stealing, found control for my violent temper and adjusted my attitude towards others, slowly detoxifying myself physically and mentally from my toxic childhood. I did a complete 180 from my old, troubled way of life. And at the age of 18, I dedicated myself to my new biblical training.

Leaving that toxic environment behind, I was on a new road that was cleansing my old ways. You see, my faith was a shield from the world’s toxicity and hate. My faith was the detoxification from my former hate and rage. I was able to keep my self-loathing and self-hatred controlled to some degree. My hypo-manic mood swings and even depression was appeased by my faith. I rely on it. My faith got me through my deteriorating sanity.

Moving forward to my thirties, I had what some would call a major psychotic episode. I totally lost touch with reality and my faith; my shield, was lost and many toxic emotions erupted like a volcano! I sank into a very deep depression with moments of psychosis and attempted suicide multiple times. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to detoxify and recover, making small steps forward on my continuing journey. I kept trying to “recapture” my faith, holding on to it with just my fingertips, often wanting to let go and end the suffering.

What pains me most is what my mental illness has done to my family. I re-created a toxic environment for my own children because, for part of their life, my symptoms went uncontrolled and un-medicated. I’m now working hard to better myself and create a loving, non-toxic home environment for my children.

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” What worked when I was 14 was building an appreciation for the Bible and the practical, life-saving principles found therein. So, ever since July 2011, I implemented a family Bible-study once a week. I can’t tell you how much this has helped our family detoxify and build appreciation for God and spirituality!

Mentally, I continue to detoxify, recover and fortify my faith. Recently, a wave of depression engulfed me with suicidal ideation, negative thinking and self-loathing. After sharing my emotional turmoil with a trusted friend, he shared with me an encouraging biblical verse. I read it and cried tears of joy.

‘Do not be afraid, for I am with you. Do not gaze about, for I am your God. I will fortify you. I will really help you. I will really keep fast hold of you with my right hand of righteousness.’ (Isaiah 41:10)