Myers–Briggs, Educational Path, and Career

Myers–Briggs, Educational Path, and Career
By William Jiang, MLS 
As an educator and librarian, I have often heard the question, “What should I do with my life?” To know what to do, one should, as Plato, the ancient Greek philosopher said to “Know thyself.” If you do not know yourself in terms of who you are or in terms of personality then talk to friends and family, think about your own personal history, as well as your strengths and weaknesses, as well as upcoming opportunities such as free education for full-time students at CUNY and SUNY, and threats, such as badly controlled mental, social, or economic issues.  
After one does all that thinking, maybe with help, one can take a self-test that can give you even more guidance: the Myers–Briggs. Although not a perfect tool, it can be helpful to help guide an educational and career path. When tested on the Myers-Briggs, everybody scores somewhere on the following scales of extraversion/introversion, sensing/intuition and thinking/feeling, judging/perception. 
So, what? If you are an extrovert and you want to be a librarian because you respect learning, this may be a problem. Extroverts draw power from socializing and other people. Librarians generally need a quiet environment to allow their patrons to do their research and study. Being a librarian for someone who scores high on extroversion is a clear mismatch for basic lifestyle. 
On the other hand, if someone is a INTPs (Introverted Intuitive Thinking Perceptive) type you may make an absolutely great mathematician. Why? Working at a high level of math, you need to spend many disciplined hours alone studying, memorizing, and conceptualizing abstract concepts (introversion, Perceptive, Thinking, Intuitive).  
The Myers–Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) is an introspective self-report questionnaire claiming to indicate psychological preferences in how people perceive the world around them and make decisions.
The MBTI was constructed by Katharine Cook Briggs and her daughter Isabel Briggs Myers. It is based on the typological theory proposed by Carl Jung, who had speculated that there are four principal psychological functions by which humans experience the world—sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking—and that one of these four functions is dominant for a person most of the time. The MBTI was constructed for normal populations and emphasizes the value of naturally occurring differences. “The underlying assumption of the MBTI is that we all have specific preferences in the way we construe our experiences, and these preferences underlie our interests, needs, values, and motivation,” Kaplan and Saccuzzo’s Psychological Testing: Principles, Applications, and Issues (7 ed. 2009).
One can test oneself for free. Just Google “Myers–Briggs test” and maybe learn something about yourself. The Myers-Briggs can be a useful tool for education, but it is just a tool and it is imperfect. You are your own best captain.
Note: William Jiang, MLS is the Author of 63 books, including the bestselling books “Guide to Natural Mental Health, 3rd ed” and his critically-acclaimed autobiography “A Schizophrenic Will: A Story of Madness, A Story of Hope”. You can see a selection of his books about mental and physical health nicely laid out on his blog at http://www.mentalhealthbooks.net or check out his Facebook at Mental Health Books.NET

Being Brave While Reaching Out For Love

Being Brave While Reaching Out For Love
By MVK
Despite the Risk of Rejection
For people dealing with the challenges of mental illness, reaching out to someone can be scary. Not only does it hold the usual fears we have of being rejected, but it also makes us feel somewhat deceitful. We are not disclosing that we have a mental illness, or, if we are, we might not be explaining clearly how our mental illness affects us. 
A few years back, when I started an online search for a male friend, I did not put down in my profile the fact that I had a mental illness. I did not feel that it was an appropriate way to start a friendship. I felt that the best way to start was to describe myself as honestly as I could while not giving myself any labels. Telling someone your diagnosis can be disconcerting for them as they might not know much about the illness or be misinformed about it; this lack of knowledge can cause them to create a false impression of you. 
The men that I responded to were the ones whose profiles sounded genuine. I was seeking someone intelligent, sensitive and sincere. I communicated with a few men but had no luck. These men wanted what I could not give and wanted me to be someone I was not. My feelings were hurt but I knew they were not meant for me. 
I wanted a friend and convinced myself that that was all I really wanted. Little did I know that I in truth was wanting someone to love and be loved by in return. 
There was one man who I responded to that stood out from the rest. He was intelligent and honest in his description of himself and what he was looking for in a relationship. I wrote to him and he answered me with kindness and interest. I was very surprised because he seemed like someone out of my league. 
We continued our correspondence and I have to admit here that I was a bit challenging in how I communicated due to my insecurities. He maintained communication with me, however, despite this and also despite the fact that I blurted out that I had schizophrenia. I don’t know why it came out in this manner, but it did. What I learned from this was that he was a true gentleman in that he did not disappear from me. In fact, he knew of the illness for his mother had suffered from it as well. 
For two years we wrote to each other but there were long gaps in between due to me not being secure in myself that I would be liked, accepted and loved. He was a good man in that he did not give up on me altogether. Over time we became closer and I shared with him why I was reluctant to meet with him. But my explanations did not put him off and eventually we met in person. 
I cannot begin to tell you how happy I was to leave the virtual world and engage with this man in real life. Not that our writings to each other were false, but until you meet with someone in person, there remains doubts and fears and all sorts of imaginary ideas. When we met we could put these to rest. 
I see now that the difficulties I caused this man in getting to know me were due to my fears of not being loved. I tried to sabotage the relationship so that it would end and confirm my belief that I was unworthy of love. He stood by me, however, and over time we came to understand that we are both worthy of love, and that we both have a great deal of love to share with each other. 
I cherish the love and friendship I have with this man. I will not retreat back into my cocoon of insecurities. The key to finding love is in accepting the risk of rejection. When searching for that special someone, take rejection as being a part of the sorting process and that not everyone will be interested in knowing who you are. Do not be angry or mean-spirited as that is not the way of being a loving person. Be kind and gracious in all that you do and eventually you will find someone with whom to share friendship, love and companionship.

Pullout: “Be kind and gracious in all that you do and eventually you will find someone with whom to share friendship, love and companionship.”

Distance Education Might be the Way to Go

Distance Education Might be the Way to Go
By William Jiang, MLS
An Education from the Comfort of Home
Distance education is booming, and it will just get bigger as an industry and a more affordable and convenient option for students. It should democratize and lower the cost of getting a quality education. The dollars are flowing in and the students are enrolling in distance learning for reasons of accessibility, convenience, and generally lower cost. There are many good options for degrees today from associates degrees to MBAs and even PhDs. For degrees in the USA some of the most popular options are Arizona State University, University of Phoenix, DeVry, University of Maryland University College, SUNY Stony Brook Online Classes, Rutgers Online University, and many more. However, just like traditional universities, these options can be very expensive and will, in most cases, require financial aid to be able to attend. 
Online University is not for everyone. Online courses take a lot of discipline and self-motivation. Why? You are not in a classroom environment which can keep you in the zone and focused. The dropout rate for many online courses is high, historically. When I took an online course in managerial library science for library chiefs from Rutgers Online, the course started with twenty people; however, only four library managers, including myself, finished the course. At the end, I felt that I had survived. It was a great course, and I learned a lot about branding and nonprofit management, that I would not have been able to do otherwise. The course was led by an expert in management who became a relatively powerful politician. However, there was no way I was able to commute to Rutgers to finish a traditional course like that. So, distance learning was the only option. For me, that time, it worked. However, it was a lot of work, we had lots of reading and assignments, and the final examination was extremely difficult. 
Fortunately, there are free and low-cost distance learning options to try out before spending hundreds or thousands of dollars. Get your feet wet and get an idea if you want to take the more expensive distance education route for a degree. Coursera.com is a popular place to start looking for courses. Two lesser-known distance education resources are MIT OCW and Class Central. MIT Open Courseware (https://ocw.mit.edu) is a great place to start learning at one’s own pace, with the exact same books, syllabi, assignments, and tests that the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Students use for their elite brand of education. It is a great free resource. Class Central (https://www.class-central.com) is an easily-searchable database of most of the MOOC (Massive Open Online Courses) classes that exist in English. It’s really an amazing resource with literally thousands of courses on every subject you can imagine. So, Coursera is only the tip of the iceberg, there are many more MOOCs. Speaking of icebergs, I hope you find these class resources useful, and cool for the summer. 
Note: William Jiang, MLS is the Author of 63 books, including the bestselling books “Guide to Natural Mental Health, 3rd ed” and his critically-acclaimed autobiography “A Schizophrenic Will: A Story of Madness, A Story of Hope”. You can see a selection of his books about mental and physical health nicely laid out on his blog at http://www.mentalhealthbooks.net or check out his Facebook at Mental Health Books.NET

My Mom in the Hospital

My Mom in the Hospital
By Craig R. Bayer
My mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, a malady that she, like all women, always feared, even though she has smoked cigarettes for most of her life.
To make matters worse, the cancer spread to one of her legs and her pelvis.
To make matters even worse, my mother suffers from paranoid schizophrenia, a disease which continues to complicate her medical treatment.
My mother and her side of the family have always had a love/hate relationship with doctors: when they cured somebody, especially without utilizing surgery, they were heroes. When somebody died, they blamed the doctor.
Now, it’s my mother who sick and she is very paranoid about her caregivers. The doctors, the nurses, the nurse’s aides, the dietician, the physical therapist, the radiologist…she’s accusing them all of being butchers and quacks. She lectures them on how to do their jobs, based on information and misinformation she has gleaned from reading magazines and Ann Landers. Every time something goes wrong, no matter how minor it is, she presses the panic button.
If the radiologist mistakenly causes her to bang her head during treatment, if she has to take an x-ray, which she condemns as carcinogenic, if the hospital food is bad or even mediocre, if the laxative gives her diarrhea…all the world must come to a stop and so must her treatment. She has refused to take her pills, blown off radiation treatments, verbally abused the hospital staff, threatened to sue the hospital, etc.
She needed ten consecutive days of radiation treatments. On days when I failed to accompany her because I was at a Fountain House colleague training, she refused treatment, so I had to withdraw from the training and be there for ten consecutive days, virtually all day, to make sure that she submitted to treatment. All day she would argue with me about taking the treatment and rant about all the people who “gave her cancer”: the cigarette companies who sold her and the public cigarettes, instead of wholesome food; my grandmother, who condemned her for drinking apricot brandy to ease her cigarette cravings; a woman at her former adult home, who reportedly stole from her and committed other evil acts and who mysteriously has the power to give her cancer, too.
Then after ranting all day, my mother would miraculously change her mind and submit to the radiation, without ever admitting that I was right and she was wrong about the whole process.
All I could do throughout the ordeal was ride out her rants and pray—and try to protect the staff from her bitter, paranoid, desperate venom. It was very embarrassing, especially after I developed a crush on no less than two of her nurses.
But my mother is my mother: she sacrificed her own mental and physical health to get me all the way through college, so I’m going along with her on this arduous journey, not knowing what the results will be. Furthermore, it could be me someday on the radiation table, ranting and raving about whose fault it is, because I am obviously a consumer, too. I need to show some empathy.

Am I My Brother’s Keeper?

Am I My Brother’s Keeper?
By Anonymous
“911, How can I help you?”
“I’m afraid my brother is going to kill himself. He’s a psych patient, not taking his meds. Says he wants to die. Please send someone before he does something.”
“Has he tried to hurt himself? Is he trying now?”
“No, but I’m afraid he will. He’s been talking about it.”
“OK, we’ll send someone right away.”
Ten minutes later three officers and two EMTs arrive. When I tell the cops what’s going on, my brother yells from the bedroom, “Why’d you do this? There’s nothing wrong with me.”
One of the cops pulls me aside. “Let us handle this.”
My sister and her husband are there too, witnesses to what we all agree is my brother’s dire condition: Depression so severe he’s stopped eating. Only gets out of bed to pee. Apartment filled with garbage. He rejects every choice we give him to change the mess he’s in.
Thus, it takes the crisis team half an hour to convince my brother to come with them to the hospital…or else.
Twelve years before, I faced the same dilemma; only I was the one carted off to a hospital. After a long depression, I had tried to kill myself and the authorities showed up when my wife and a friend called for help.
Here I am committing my brother to a psych ward just as I had been. How can one peer do this to another?
My brother’s OCD and depression have always been worse than my bipolar disorder. He spent years in mental hospitals compared to months for me. Our family alternated between blaming him for his condition and fixing him when he broke down.
As his big brother with a diagnosis, I understood him better but still towed the family line. When he didn’t feel dependent on me, he felt betrayed. This is the kind of double bind that ties families in knots.
His love-hate relationship with our mother consumed both their lives. Since she died three years ago, he’s deteriorated mentally and physically. In the past we’d fight but make up. Now there’s no pleasing each other. It seems too late to change a lifetime of anger and guilt. I’m 67; he’s 62.
I ask myself again: How can I, a peer, think about my brother this way? I’ve tried to treat him with the respect of a peer counselor. He’s smart. We can talk about anything except what he wants to do. Inevitably I lose patience.
How bad can this standoff get? I considered forcing ECT on him when he was in the hospital, a treatment I refused during my last hospitalization. But he gained a little weight and his doctor decided ECT wasn’t necessary…yet.
Now he’s back home and I’m taking care of him. He lies in bed doing nothing and I see myself during my worst depressions—helpless and hopeless.
Do I save him from himself or let him drag me down with him? Or do I leave his life up to him for better or worse? In other words, how do I reconcile being a peer and a brother?

Bruni in the City: We Feast Together

Bruni in the City: We Feast Together
A Column by Christina Bruni
Living in Two Worlds

You think it’s a secret only it’s not. I’m aware others most likely pick up that I’m different in some way. Yet I don’t want my MH life to infringe on my other life. I move between these distinct worlds like a chameleon.

Italiani. We feast together. We meet a person for the first time and they are our new best friend for that evening. Everyone is famiglia here.

It was the day after Columbus Day. I arrived early to the restaurant and was seated at our table.

A drop-dead gorgeous guy walked in and was seated with a companion up front. All the guys were handsome and talking Italian at the other tables.

It’s true that I have a striking look: a heart-shaped face and dramatic Mediterranean features. If you saw me you’d think: “Of course, she must be Italian.”

The 900-pound elephant in any room is always what people see even though I wish they wouldn’t. A former hairstylist claimed you can’t tell by looking at someone that they have a mental health challenge. This is most likely true.

Yet I’m a strange girl in other ways: I don’t drink beer or liquor. I won’t eat meat. Instead of a garrulous talker, I prefer to listen to what people are saying and give them the spotlight.

Deride me all you want for my focus on fashion and style. Yet having a hurdle to clear socially is all the more reason I dress chic: to put others at ease as well as for me to feel at ease in their company.

When I walk down the street I want people to think: “Who’s that girl?” I want them to take a second look as I destroy the stereotype of a person diagnosed with SZ.

I’ve thought long and hard about this. It’s the bedrock that the premise of my memoir Left of the Dial is founded on: “Enjoy your quirkiness.”

At the end of the day I don’t care what people think of me. I’ve observed that most people are kinder than you think. Find the compassionate so-called normal people, and gravitate towards them.

It’s the little things that count the most: 

That day in October I got a better haircut from a real parucchiere: an Italian hairdresser. She was older and had auburn hair. Snip, snip. She was done in ten minutes.

Figuring out how to apply the new blush helped too. It looks better swiped on my cheekbones not the apples of my cheeks. The rose fresque shade is good. I applied it in the afternoon. At nine o’clock at night the blush was still going strong when I checked my face in the restroom mirror.

I say: ladies, put on your face and go out. There’s a world out there that would look better with you in it. And guys, you’re handsome too. So, go out and paint the town gold.

As hard as it is living with an MH thing, I find that making the effort is worth it. Go on MeetUp.com to join others in the city doing things you’re passionate about. There’s even the #1 New York Shyness and Social Anxiety MeetUp you can join.

Once a month, the Mental Health Project of The Urban Justice Center in lower Manhattan, hosts an open mic with a theme for the month such as “self-care,” “diversity,” “action,” “bravery,” and others.

As I toggle between these two worlds, I understand how it is for a lot of us mingling in disparate environments. Yet feeling like an outsider shouldn’t stop us from doing things.

What the world needs now is MH peers with the courage to show up. To take a seat and be counted. All of us have paid our dues. Festeggiamo insieme. We feast together. 

Common ground is the ground on which everyone stands. Be not afraid to get rejected. Plenty of fish are swimming in the sea of friends and lovers. 

It’s up to us to cast our nets wide. The unlikeliest stranger could turn out to be the most compassionate. Talk to a therapist if it would help you to set and achieve goals like this.

My Italian therapist tells it like it is. She colludes with me to help me get what I want.

I wish all you loyal readers tanti auguri. Good wishes.

Book Ends: "Written Off" by Philip T. Yanos

Book Ends: "Written Off" by Philip T. Yanos
A Column by Kurt Sass
Examining Stigma with a Critical Eye

Dr. Yanos, a Ph. D. and Professor of Psychology at John Jay College, has written a captivating and well-researched book on the history, foundation, and most importantly, the effects of stigma about mental illness. This stigma includes the stigma by others (media, government, community and society in general), but also the stigma mental health consumers place on themselves (Self-Stigma)

Dr. Yanos has certainly put a tremendous amount of time and effort into this book as there are almost 500 references cited. Many of these references point to a current theme: The stigma and misconception (by both society and consumers alike) that once a person has had a psychiatric episode they will never go back to having a normal life.

Dr. Yanos points out many true instances of how this stigma has affected people's lives. The Nazis, for example, started an extermination campaign of their own people who had mental illnesses in 1939 called the T-4 program. The rationale behind this (even advertised in propaganda films) was that these were "mercy" killings and acts of euthanasia, as people with mental illness were incurable.

Another example is the actress Margot Kidder, who was extremely popular from the Superman and other movies. In fact, by the 1980s, she was one of the most popular actresses in the world.  In the 1990s, however, she suffered a psychotic break, which was widely publicized. Although she has not had any episodes in many, many years, she feels that people still think of her only in terms of the breakdown, and that this has hurt her career tremendously.

Of course, it is not only celebrities who have to deal with stigma. Dr. Yanos relayed the story about a single parent in Kansas, who, shortly after giving birth in 2009, experienced a psychotic episode. Her daughter was taken into custody by child welfare authorities. The mother was treated and recovered. She petitioned to regain custody but was denied even though she never abused or neglected her daughter, even while she was symptomatic. The judge in the ruling stated that her condition "is permanent and there is no likelihood the condition can be reversed." She went on to give birth to another child in 2011 and has been allowed to keep custody of that child, but not her first born. As of 2014 things have remained the same.

The last story I would like to share from the book is how stigma from the community can cause mental health consumers to suffer from "Self-Stigma." While doing an ethnographic study in Los Angeles, a sociologist came across the case of an intelligent, outgoing man in his 30s, living in a community residence. Due to all the stereotypes he heard over the years that no one ever recovers from mental illness—although he was no longer suffering from any symptoms of his mental illness—he was desperately struggling and grappling with these negative stereotypes and stated that he had a "futureless future." He feared that he was becoming a "human rock," and that he had no hope. He eventually committed suicide.

Alas, there is hope. Research from the book has shown at least three strategies that have proven to work. The first is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. The second is a National Anti-Stigma Campaign. (Note: The United States has local campaigns, but not a national one.) The last one is peer support.
I have given just a few examples of the stories showing how stigma can impact people's lives and the names of the strategies most effective in fighting stigma. I highly recommend you read this book to both read more of the stories and to find out how the strategies mentioned above work.

The Ayesha Karim Story

The Ayesha Karim Story
By Ayesha Karim
The Little Black Girl That Grew Up and Became Herself.

What makes a healthy self-image? It’s not perfect parents, but good parents, loving parents and a protective environment. I lived in a rather protective environment with a middle class socio-economic background. My stepfather retired from his Social Security Administration job after 25 years, and told me he loved the poetry chapbook I had published in 2016.

I started writing poems in the 5th grade while attending a school called Al-Karim in Old Brooklyn. I call the Brooklyn of my childhood Old Brooklyn. I was born in Brooklyn, New York on January 28, 1981 at a hospital called Brookdale. My parents loved Chinese food and my mother said their favorite meal was called Chicken Cantonese. 

This is the story of the little African American girl who grew up to become a woman who likes and accepts herself. Ayesha wore a school uniform that consisted of a green sweater with AKS on it for Al-Karim School and a green plaid jumper that all the girls wore to school. Ayesha went from preschool to 6th grade at Al-Karim School, which had mostly African American students. Ayesha was a smart girl and her teachers encouraged her parents to skip her a grade in elementary school.

Ayesha started writing poetry in the 5th grade. She loved to write poems about everyday mundane occurrences. She kept a composition notebook for every subject when she was a little girl and pupil at Al-Karim School. She was also good at mathematics.

Ayeesha left Al-Karim School and went to the Brooklyn Friends School, an integrated K-12 independent school established by the Quakers, for 7th and 8th grades. She was a shy 10- and 11-year-old.

Ayesha got into three New York City Catholic high schools after she took the Catholic Schools Admission Test in 1993. She chose her top three schools: Catherine Mac Aulay, an all-girl high school in Manhattan where school uniforms were mandatory; Bishop Ford high school; and Bishop Loughlin, the school her cousin Jeanette went to. 

Ayesha was in the honors program at Bishop Loughlin and in the best freshman class until she started to lose her own voice and develop schizophrenia.

Ayesha’s parents, Shellon and Neil, moved with their daughter to New Jersey in the summer of 1994. One day, in February 1995, after only six months in New Jersey, Ayesha was walking home from the school bus when a man screamed “Nigger” at her and sped off in his car. This was the incident that pushed Ayesha over the edge into schizophrenia.

Ayesha finished high school on home instruction. She graduated from a 4-year college/university at age 34 despite living with schizophrenia since she was 14-years-old.

Ayesha volunteers with an organization called NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness). She has been involved with NAMI Mercer NJ since September 30, 2008. She’s been a volunteer from December 2010—present. NAMI gives Ayesha quality of life. Ayesha has a place to go, friends to socialize with and a place to volunteer and be productive.

Ayesha had a poem published in the January 2018 NAMI Mercer NJ newsletter. She has published several poems in their newsletter since January 2013. Ayesha is a poet, creative writer, blogger and now a children’s book author. Ayesha is in her mid-late 30s. She loves putting on lipstick, one of her five moto jackets and a motorcycle hat while smiling at herself in the mirror.

Ayesha feels good about herself, having grown up from that bullied little African American girl who wrote poetry as a form of escape since the 5th grade. She is a self-love advocate and quite independent despite her diagnosis of schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder.

Ayesha loves her life and says, “I wouldn’t have done much differently even if I could. I made peace with my illness. I have SZ; SZ doesn’t have me.” That is the Ayesha Karim story!

Return Our Sanity Through Timely Treatment

Return Our Sanity Through Timely Treatment
By Jane
People with Stable Minds Can See Illness for What It Is

It's the day after the Newton Children’s Massacre and I want to say something as a mentally ill person. I have had bipolar disorder all my life. I have been successfully treated for the illness for 23 years. Since then I have done extensive research on the disorder and written four books on the subject. I have developed opinions on the way treatment is given (and withheld) in this country.

Mentally ill persons are the most discriminated persons in the country. They can easily be fired from jobs (“she just wasn’t capable of doing the job,” instead of the truth—we were afraid of having a mentally ill person around).

When people find out about their illness, they lose friends and sometimes are blackballed from organizations. A mentally ill person has to be careful with what he or she says and does at all times, so as not to trigger stigma.

At the same time, access to treatment has been made difficult. In the past few years, states have cut access to mental health treatment by limiting the illnesses they will treat. In my own state, mental health clinics will only treat those with schizophrenia, depression, and bipolar disorder. No other illnesses are eligible.

In the past year, I was cut from the program after five successful years with the same psychiatrist because I was “too stable” to receive treatment any longer. And I am a person who actively seeks treatment, demands it, and insists that I always have my medication, even if it means an ER visit to get it.

What about those who resist treatment? Those like the school, theater, congress-people, and mall shooters? The profile invariably shows that they did not seek treatment, that they refused it. Often it is found that a parent tried many times to get help for their child, but was turned away because he was not a danger to himself or others—yet.

Read Pete Earley’s book Crazy, in which he describes his efforts to get help for his bipolar son. He found that most mentally ill people are not in institutions, but in jails or prisons, because they did not get help when they needed it, but the criminal justice system intervened after they had acted out.

What about a person’s right to be healthy? We don’t leave sick people lying on the street to die. We deliver them to the hospital to be healed. What about a person’s right to not be mentally ill? They are in no shape to make a decision as to whether or not they should receive treatment or medication. They have a right to be treated. The “freedom” we allow people to have in our country to be mentally ill is illusory and has nothing to do with real freedom. These are chains that bind and hold a person even as they declare their own freedom.

Treat the person—return him or her to sanity—then let the person decide whether or not they wish to be ill. Then, and only then, are they capable of making such a decision. We need to upgrade our mental health system and to change our laws to deal with the reality that is mental illness and to truly help the helpless.

Criminal Justice Forum Reveals New Information and Old Problems

Criminal Justice Forum Reveals New Information and Old Problems

By Carla Rabinowitz, Advocacy Coordinator, Community Access, Project Coordinator, Communities for Crisis Intervention Teams in NYC (CCINYC)

Community Asks Its Leaders, “What Is Taking So Long?”

The Daily News, The Greenburger Center for Social and Criminal Justice, and Metro Industrial Areas Foundation(IAF) hosted a forum on diverting people with mental health concerns away from the criminal justice system.

The February 14, 2018 forum was actually the 4^th in a four-part series.

The focus of the last forum was Crisis Intervention Team training and catching people at the first intercept. An intercept is a step where people encounter the criminal justice system. There are 4 intercepts:

·         Intercept 1 is on the streets, where people meet police;

·         Intercept 2 is from arrest to disposition;

·         Intercept 3 is diverting people when they are in jail away from longer sentencing; and

·         Intercept 4 is release and re-entry.

In attendance were some heavy hitters in the field of mental health and criminal justice. There was Dr. Gary Belkin, Executive Deputy Commissioner of the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene(DOHMH), Commissioner Elizabeth Glazer, Director of the Mayor’s Office of Criminal Justice, and NYPD Commissioner James O’Neill.

A large part of the planning for this event centered not only on what the police are doing but what the Mayor is doing to find solutions to the recent string of nine police shootings of New York City residents with mental health concerns during crisis calls, or Emotionally Disturbed Person(EDP) calls.

In 2014, Mayor de Blasio convened an impressive Taskforce to look into all the intercepts where people with mental health needs encounter the criminal justice system. Many city agencies and health care providers were on that Taskforce. Each stage of encounter—intercept—had a committee.

I was on the Taskforce committee that strategized about Intercept 1. We brainstormed for a year and came up with the recommendation to train police about how to respond to those in emotional crisis and to build two drop-off centers where police could take people in distress, now known as diversion centers.

At the meeting in February, Elizabeth Glazer was asked about whether Mayor de Blasio would revive his Taskforce on Criminal Justice and Behavioral Health.

Glazer did not publicly answer the question. But as I caught her walking out the door she said the Mayor was working on something, maybe not what we want, but some version of a Taskforce.  But politicians always say that.

Dr. Gary Belkin was grilled on why DOHMH has not yet built the two diversion centers promised in 2014. Dr. Belkin noted that Project Renewal and Samaritan Day Top Village were awarded contracts to build the diversion centers recently. But the questions are still: where will they find the land to build the massive diversion centers? And how long will the construction take? No timeline has been given.

Commissioner O’Neill was asked many questions and hit with many concerns, as one might imagine. To his credit, the Commissioner answered all questions and remained after the end of the Forum to speak to people.

Commissioner O’Neill admitted that most EDP encounters occur quickly. He noted one shooting occurred in the first 17 seconds of officers being on the scene. Usually experts say the first 3 to 4 minutes is where violence occurs.

Many people asked about non-police alternatives to answering the crisis calls.

Surprisingly, O’Neill stated that Staten Island is piloting a program where some 911 calls get screened to determine if police are needed or if social workers can field the call instead. Little is known about this program to anyone. This program was not mentioned in the quarterly NYPD advocate meetings I attend, nor is DOHMH staff familiar with this program.

Instances of projects being hidden like this show the need for the Mayor to bring a Taskforce back together to look at alternatives like this, and at least to issue reports to the public on what is already being done.

Beyond the Medical Model with Neesa

Beyond the Medical Model with Neesa
A Column by Neesa Sunar, Peer Specialist, Transitional Services for New York, Inc.
Changing the Language That is Used to Describe Us

Many of us who find ourselves in the mental health system have shared experiences as to how we got there. To speak on my own experiences, I first displayed “maladaptive,” saddening symptoms as a teen, which then led to my first hospitalization at around my fourteenth birthday. I was diagnosed with clinical depression and medicated with Zoloft. Upon returning to school, I labeled myself as “depressed,” which elicited within me a negative worldview amongst my classmates. My experiences with mental illness seemed alien to them, so my label further served to summarize my failures in forging meaningful friendships.

My condition turned for the worse when I developed schizoaffective disorder in my early twenties. Again, this diagnosis became a box I fell into, deeming me a “schizophrenic.” Adopting this label as a self-descriptor caused me to feel broken in mind and character. And even as I remained compliant with medications and psychiatric appointments, I continued relapsing, causing me to believe that my schizophrenia would haunt me for the rest of my life. Thus, the label seemed inescapable, thus sadly accurate.

My inability to work caused me to file for disability, which was an incredibly freeing experience. I began openly disclosing my illness to anyone who would serve as an audience, and even felt proud that my struggles had a name, instead of being some amorphous spiritual curse. At the same time, the label of “schizophrenic” still caused people to distance themselves from me. Perhaps my label served as a threat, indicating that I had lying dormant within me a sense of criminality.

When discovering the peer movement in 2014, beginning as a student at Howie the Harp Advocacy Center, I learned that I had been entrenched in the Medical Model for my entire mental illness “career.” I realized that I had completely internalized and unconditionally accepted the top-down dynamics of the therapeutic relationship between practitioner and consumer. I absorbed that my mental illness diagnosis served as a label that indicated who I was and the future trajectory for the remainder of my life. And that all this was an injustice.

I became appalled that I had never even heard of the Recovery Model as a counter to the Medical Model. Even in this massive city of New York, brimming with resources, I had never encountered peer specialists or Recovery Model enthusiasts. How could this be? Many of the peers I have since met proudly disown their diagnoses as descriptors, instead using more affirming language such as, “I am a person with schizophrenia,” or “I have past lived experience.” The peer community is a group of vibrant people with dynamic personalities, free from such labels. Bearing this perspective, we flourish and grow in our own recovery journeys as we influence and support one another.

Many of us peers are compelled to take action as mental health advocates in our communities. When we fight for widespread awareness of peers and the Recovery Model, we hope to challenge people in reevaluating their perspectives of those with mental illness. Part of our advocacy efforts should also include the request for creating alternative language that is person-centered, trauma-informed and affirming. A person “suffers from” or “experiences” mental illness and is not the illness itself. And what defines mental illness anyway? Descriptive words such as “crazy,” “insane” or “dysfunctional” also serve to obscure the personhood of one suffering. When insensitive language is used, a person can internalize this and develop a sense of shame and fear. This can prevent a person from reaching out to friends, family, and/or professionals. In the worst of situations, such silence can end in immense and irreversible tragedy.

As we advocate for change in language, we must also recognize that each individual has their preference for how they should be regarded. Some people prefer to be called “disabled,” while others eschew the term. Other terms can be preferred as well, such as “mentally ill,” “other-abled,” “neurodiverse,” “chronically ill,” “in remission,” or simply “a human being.” In the same way that the transgender community has fought for preferred pronouns, so too should we demand that mainstream society develops interest in engaging the mental health community with respectful language.

We each have our individual journeys towards recovery, as we leave behind our pasts to walk towards a bright future. The hope and vision that guides us in this process can be the foundation on which we stand, as we fearlessly share our stories of recovery. Part of our stories can include how we have reclaimed our lives by adopting affirming language. If we are able to incite curiosity in our audiences, we may enjoy immense success in this endeavor.

Nine Dead in Two Years in NYC and No One is Listening

Nine Dead in Two Years in NYC and No One is Listening 
By Carla Rabinowitz, Advocacy Coordinator, Community Access, Project Coordinator, Communities for Crisis Intervention Teams in NYC (CCINYC)
The Mental Health Community Demands Change

On Friday, February 23rd, 2018, dozens of community members gathered to mourn the lives of people lost in NYPD encounters in the last two and a half years.

At the memorial, we talked about the need to get the newly trained Crisis Intervention Team (CIT) officers to the scene of crisis calls.

We talked about the need for Mayor de Blasio to revive an old 2014 Taskforce to come up with other alternatives to police responding to these calls. Whether it is diverting calls to social workers or therapists to meet police on the scene, or trained peers responding in the community. We need alternatives to police responding to crisis calls.

But mainly it was a day for family, friends, and the community to mourn our nine losses.

We read the names of each life lost, and after each name was read, we popped a black balloon to signify their death.

Steve Coe, CEO of Community Access, implored the Mayor to revive the Taskforce, get all the experts in the room to figure out what is working, what is not working, and to fix this.

Below is my speech in full. At the memorial we spoke, and here we print the names of our community members so that we can remember them:

“Mario Ocasio was killed June, 2016. He was 51 years old. Mario was an uncle and a boyfriend. Mario, you are missed.

“Rashan Lloyd was killed June, 2016. Rashan was only 25 years of age when he died. Rashan was a construction worker and Rashan was raising his 4-year-old son. Rashan you are missed.

“Deborah Danner was killed in October, 2016. Deborah was well known in both the mental health and faith communities. Deborah was a regular member of Fountain House, a clubhouse in NYC. And Deborah was a long timelong-time member of Trinity Church. She participated in the poetry and knitting groups. Deborah predicted her own death at the hands of police on a blog she wrote. Deborah you are missed.

“Dwayne Jeune was killed July, 2017. Dwayne was a Caribbean immigrant. He died at 32 years of age. Dwayne was a devoted son, who often helped his mother with groceries and could sometimes be found dancing in front of a mirror in the hallway outside his apartment. Dwayne’s cousin said Dwayne was a soft-spoken, mild-mannered person who never bothered anyone. Mr. Jeune you are missed.

“Ariel Galarza was killed November 2016 when police mistook a hot sauce bottle for a knife. He was 49-years-old when he was killed. Ariel was described as a peaceful, hardworking man. Ariel was a role model for his nephews and loved dearly by his little sister. Ariel you are missed.

“Andy Sookdeo died in August 2017. He was only 29 years old. Andy took his own life when confronted with police. Andy had been a school bus driver before things fell apart. Not only did Andy die in this encounter, but police were injured as well. Andy, you are missed. 

“Miguel Richards was killed in September, 2017. Miguel was a college student from Jamaica living in NYC in an exchange program. He died at 31 years of age. Miguel was an IT expert with a bright future. Police had 17 minutes to talk Miguel down using de-escalation skills, but instead they just shouted commands at him, telling him they would shoot him if he did not comply. Maybe that’s what Miguel wanted at that moment. Miguel you are missed.

“Cornell Lockhart was killed in November, 2017. He was 67-years-old when he died. Lockhart had lived in a supportive housing residence for six years before his death. When police shot him, Cornell’s arms were down at his side and his back was against a wall. Cornell you are missed.

Dwayne Pritchett was killed in January, 2018. Dwayne was 48 years of age at his death. Dwayne was a barber. He was raising his 3-year-old son with his female partner., but left to live with his father about a week before his death. Mr. Pritchett you are missed.

Let these lives lost not be in vein. Let’s strengthen our resolve to continue the work to find new solutions to crisis calls that so many people in the mental health community face.

We demand the Mayor revive his Taskforce to find non-police responses to crisis calls before one more life is lost.

After Things Go Wrong Sometimes Amazing Things Happen

After Things Go Wrong Sometimes Amazing Things Happen
Book Review by Carl Blumenthal
Some Stories Have No Ending

How many of us could survive one day in New York City’s notorious Rikers Island Jail, given we have behavioral health issues? Wouldn’t admission to a psychiatric hospital be safer and more therapeutic? 

Until recently I worked as a peer counselor in the psychiatric ER of Brooklyn’s Kings County Medical Center. I admit that I approached with caution what the police call “emotionally disturbed individuals” (EDI’s) charged with crimes. Even with one wrist handcuffed to a gurney, they were liable to react aggressively. Unfortunately, the sooner they calmed down and went to Rikers, the sooner our staff could focus on less agitated patients.

Having “done time” on psychiatric units as a non-forensic inpatient, I expected a lot more heartbreak than hope in psychiatrist Elizabeth Ford’s Sometimes Amazing Things Happen: Heartbreak and Hope on Bellevue Hospital’s Psychiatric Prison Ward (2017). I was surprised to discover a role model who all mental health providers should copy. 

Due to the revolving door between Bellevue and Rikers—the hospital has 68 beds to treat the most distressed of 5,000 inmates with mental illness—she admits, “I have come to see my success as a doctor not by how well I treat mental illness but by how well I respect and honor my patients’ humanity, no matter where they are or what they have done.” 

Ford shines a light not just on the jail’s insufferable conditions but also on prisoners’ lives that are too often defined in psychiatric and legal terms. The list of their challenges—addiction, homelessness, poverty, illiteracy, racism, etc—is as long as an indictment. To paraphrase African American psychologist, Amos Wilson, these men have learned to be the best at doing the worst. 

Ford proves one wo(man) can make a difference by never giving up on her patients even when society has cast them aside. And they do their part merely by surviving. As one peer tells another in group therapy, “You are worth it, man. You got mad courage. You just hang on and keep going one day at a time. That’s all you got to do.” 

Elizabeth Ford may never have taken a course in conflict resolution, but she’s a natural at calming potentially (self-) abusive patients and keeping the peace among staff—mental health providers and corrections officers alike. Even as she climbs the career ladder, there is always someone telling her what to (and not to) do. Yet she’s not afraid to speak truth to power. 

Her calling is to assume more and more responsibility for events others consider beyond their control, in the end becoming the current head psychiatrist of the city’s correctional health services. She prefers the intensity of working with psychiatric inmates than other populations in other settings. 

For example, Ford is in her glory (or God’s), when, like a modern-day Noah, she evacuates the prisoners to an upstate hospital during super storm Sandy and finds refuge elsewhere for those re-housed on Rikers Island, where she discovers just how poorly those with mental illness and substance abuse are treated.

Is Elizabeth Ford too good to be true? Except for a few moments of self-congratulation, burnout seems to be her only shortcoming, but that’s because she cares too much. Her family and therapist keep her on an even keel; she recognizes her racial, social, and economic privileges. And there are events out of her control, such as the beatings, murders, suicides, and escapes she learns about second-hand. 

Ford’s memoir has the pace of a well-directed movie with enough drama to satisfy the most avid consumer of stories about abuses at mental hospitals. Her prose is straight-forward. Her eye for detail demonstrates the mindfulness necessary to survive amidst daily trials and tribulations. She enables us to witness what others can’t or refuse to see.    

Thus, it’s the small blessings that give her and us hope: A phone call home by a scared teenager, a grungy prisoner’s unexpected shower, proper clothes for a court appearance, a sing-along in community meeting, ping-pong on a makeshift table, and a patient forgiving a doctor’s mistake. 

She concludes Sometimes Amazing Things Happen with these words: “A story without an ending is still a story worth telling.” Meaning these are snapshots of lives—sometimes like our lives—that we must honor, no matter how difficult to appreciate. 

Yet, much as she treats our peers humanely, Ford doesn’t hesitate to use both diagnostic labels and psychiatric medication for what she believes is our own good.

Based on my experience in the psychiatric department at Kings County, I now see the language is a shorthand and the meds are shortcuts to get people out of the hospital as quickly as possible. (After all, who wants to be confined in a mental hospital?) It may be only with long-term community services that peers have a better chance to educate clinicians.

I volunteer for the American Friends (Quaker) Service Committee’s Prison Watch to end solitary confinement, which causes and worsens mental illness. Agencies such as CASES, the Fortune Society, and the Osborne Association now rely on peer specialists to connect with ex-prisoners living with behavioral health challenges. I recommend that readers of City Voices get involved in these efforts if not doing so already.

My Mental Health Journey: Stand Up Against Stigma!

By Jacquese Armstrong
I Educate the Next Generation by Disclosing My “Mental Illness”

I’ve lived most of my life literally walking through the valley of the shadow of death. And yet, hope and resilience follow me as if I know the way out. But the one thing I have no hope of changing or getting over is being considered a throw-away person in this society.

These are the words I choose to start the introductory essay in a memoir of essays I call Informed Naivete. One could think that my assertion is a bit skewed or harsh, but these are my thoughts associated with the aftermath of the dreaded “s” word.

Often, I’ve thought that if everyone who has, or cared about someone with, a mental illness stood up against stigma, we would outnumber the rest. Where would the stigma be then? And stigma is real. It can not only make your social life uncomfortable, but it can greatly affect your ability to earn a decent living.

So, why do I choose to disclose my mental health challenges? Why would I publish articles under my birth name, publish a poetry chapbook on my mental health challenges and welcome the chance to speak on mental health challenges and stigma and why am I so adamant about it, knowing what I know?

Although I am a psychiatric survivor of 35 years, I have only disclosed since 2006 when I agreed to be interviewed for a documentary on mental illness and minorities. Now, I have many projects that would be all but impossible to do without disclosing. Of course, it was a journey.

Before 2006, my “mental illness” was my most well-guarded secret. I lost a lot of friends in those first couple of years in the 80s and there were whispers and stares, but then I moved more than once. Because I was still in and out of the hospital, I developed lies and kept them going. 

The lies were used to patch the holes in my resume, explain the eight years it took me to finish college, the many colleges I attended, the disappearances, and the work absences. The world definitely doesn’t make it easy for you to resume the race and the charade becomes a job within itself. It also led to undue stress and anxiety. It fueled my paranoid symptoms, which at the time, were not under control at all. I was always in a state of flux, wondering who knew.

I came to realize that I was stigmatizing myself by living in fear and shame, playing into the stigma game. I asked myself, “How can I call for an end to stigma and discrimination if I am ashamed myself.”

It’s almost like making the decision to go natural with your hair. When I did, it wasn’t popular and it’s still not aesthetically pleasing to some employers. I looked at myself in the mirror one day as I blow-dried my hair and curled it with a curling iron and asked, “What’s wrong with my hair?” This was the day of a huge self-embrace. The 2006 documentary I participated in was another. Looking back, that decision was the beginning of my making sense of this mess.

Self-disclosure provided me with the freedom to come out of the shadows into the sun and be the person my Maker intended me to be; who I am. It was a tremendous boost to my self-esteem.
Years ago, at the age of 34, my grandparents had a discussion with me about my illness. They said, “Jacquese, this is God’s Will for you…you have to accept it.” Then, I thought they were “crazier” than I was, but now I see the wisdom in what they told me.
First of all, you can’t heal from something you don’t accept and you must try to heal. You can fight against it, but in the end, you’re fighting against yourself.

Second, most people want to find purpose and meaning in life. Why am I here? Why am I suffering? For me, if I have to suffer (and I have), then let me help someone else to rejoin society without missing too many steps. Let me enable them to embrace the opportunities I lost because of my challenges.

I started Project Onset, still in its infancy, which is a part of the African-American Outreach program of NAMI-NJ (National Alliance on Mental Illness-New Jersey). Through testimonies from a person with mental illness whose onset happened in college (me), a parent of a college-age student and a mental health professional, young adults and their families receive an education on how mental illness can occur in those crucial years.

In the end, I just want to be able to make some sense of my pain and helping people is the best way I know to do that. So, I educate, motivate and inspire on a grassroots level because I know it’s needed. It is a purpose-filled life, driven by the desire to help eradicate stigma for the next generation of survivors. That is why I make the decision to disclose my psychiatric illness. It helps me to take control of my destiny. I know that only I can control whether I feel ashamed or not. Stigma feeds on shame.

So, imagine if everyone with, or who cared about someone with, a “mental illness” stood. Then, we could all just get back to the business of living. 

How a Car Accident Saved My Life

By LAF
Do You Have An X-Ray To Prove It?

I’m 47 years old, was diagnosed with bipolar around age 25 and ADHD at age 44. Last week I learned that I have the triad: bipolar, ADHD and OCD. For twenty-four years after college I held nine jobs before I became disabled at the age of 44. 

Receiving a diagnosis didn’t change who I was, but it explained a lot. I was overwhelmed yet empowered by the information. I was always told that my behavior, thoughts and words were wrong, and I agreed. I was taken to the doctor twice in my teens for being depressed. Both doctors just said to relax. Now I want to scream from the highest peak, “I have the answer! Maybe now I can change!” But, that’s not how everyone else saw it. Some of the first responses I got were, “Do you have an x-ray to prove it?” and, “The doctor is just trying to get money out of you. Stop taking the medication.”

One of the first aggressive episodes that I can remember was at age 13. I punched a boy and he fell to the floor. I remember an incredible feeling of uneasiness beginning that school year. 

Sophomore year in high school I punched the kid sitting in front of me. My moods were very erratic. I was a quiet student one moment, a raging tornado the next. Words were my most powerful weapons. I spoke before thoughts had a chance to be processed. My insides spun like a hamster wheel. If I wasn’t scared, I had the confidence of Super Girl.

In college I felt progressively worse as I matured and held more responsibilities. I didn’t understand my anger, confusion and almost constant anxiety. I had explosive arguments wherever I went. 

By the age of 20, I was a college graduate and in the workforce. I was very independent and successful at work, but my anxiety and confusion hit a new peak. Everything was thrilling and overbearing at the same time. The obsessiveness was in control. My stomach spun just as fast as the thoughts in my head. People were calling me crazy to my face and behind my back. I agreed with them. 

At the age of 23, I had a car accident that indirectly led me to mental health treatment. I never should have been behind the wheel of a car. I had no intention of being reckless, but I wasn’t being safe either. The car spun around a few times, flipped over and landed on its side. I simply crawled out of the car and waited for the police. 

The orthopedic doctor I saw asked why I was on valium, and handed me the business card of a psychiatrist.

I was originally treated for depression before the diagnosis of bipolar. Once the right combinations of meds were found, I felt for the first time like I had support. I’ve been in treatment with medications ever since. My illness is always with me, but I am better at maintaining my life. If not for that car accident I don’t know where I would be.  

There are people who don’t believe that I have a mental illness. A few weeks ago when I was confiding how I felt, someone said to me, “No. That didn’t happen, you never said that before, that’s not ADHD.” If I had thought to give a report of my daily life for all these years would they still question me?

If I was to “report” the events of an average day it might go like this: “I had an argument with you today in my office. Luckily I realized that you weren’t there before someone walked in and caught me. I think the fire alarm above my desk might be a camera. When I left, I thought the toaster might be on so I went back. After I was in my car I thought the light was on, so I went back. On the way home I ended up in New Bedford. I thought I didn’t lock the gate, so I went back. Home now. Did I spell-check the last document that I emailed? I have to go drive around the block because I may have I hit something.”

Even without complete acceptance (or an x-ray), I’m thankful for my doctor, medications, support group, volunteering, hobbies and the love of my family that allows me to maintain my life with mental illness.

Op-Ed: The Public’s Misunderstanding of Our Disorders

By John
Comparing the Perception of Mental Illness to Cancer

I wish I had cancer. That’s not what I mean exactly. I wouldn’t wish that horrible disease on anyone. What I wish, is that my disorder had the same respect as cancer. In 2010 I was diagnosed as being bipolar and introduced to the world of mental illness. I was also made painfully aware that I shouldn’t tell anyone and that what I had was to be kept in the shadows and not shouted from the rooftops. 

Quick—right now—what month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month? What color is the ribbon? I bet 9 out of 10 people know that it’s October and the color is pink. You know what? That is great. However, did you know May is Mental Health awareness? Only if you or someone you love has a mental illness. If there is a ribbon for mental health awareness, I have no idea what the color is. Just in case that didn’t sink in, it’s more acceptable for men to talk about women’s breast for a month than it is for anyone talk about mental illness. 

All of the hospitals I have visited have cancer “centers.” While the mental health or “Behavioral Services” area is just that, an area. These cancer centers are usually adorned with someone’s name proudly emblazoned across the building. They are proud to have donated money to such a worthy cause. You would probably have to go back 100 years to find a dead artist that would be willing to have their name associated with the mentally ill. The behavioral services are also sometimes lumped in with the same people that are detoxing. That’s right, if you are schizophrenic or bipolar you are housed with the same people that are addicted to drugs whether they have a mental illness or not. They need help too and I’m glad they are getting it, but when you go and get heart surgery are you sitting next to someone drying out? No, they would never dream of combining cardiology with the “crazy people”. 

When researching cancer, one of the big statistics that National Cancer Institute keeps track of is mortality and understandable so. Dying sucks. But, you know what else sucks? Suicide. That’s how we track the mortality rate of mental illnesses. By the way, suicide is the 3rd leading cause of the death in the US among people aged 10-24. If someone dies of cancer we mourn openly. If someone commits suicide we don’t talk about it. 

Have you ever noticed a sign in your neighborhood advertising a BBQ chicken sale to support Dave in his battle with (insert horrible disease here)? Communities rally together to support someone they might not even know. I think it’s wonderful and shows great compassion. However, I’ve never seen a banner in my neighborhood that said, “Hey, support Jeff. He suffers from severe depression and is unable to maintain a job.” “Stop being lazy and suck it up like everyone else,” would be most people’s response as they drove past my fictitious sign.

Lately, I’ve heard the mantra “Stop the Stigma,” which I fully support. However, it’s a gross misrepresentation of the problem. Pitbulls have a stigma. Used car salesmen have a stigma. What people with a mental illness have is a debilitating disease that is misunderstood to the rest of society in the same way that Greeks thought the Earth was the center of the universe. That’s not a stigma, that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of the basic facts. People, society, media and even my family don’t understand the basic facts. It’s like trying to explain what salt taste like without using the word “salty.”

Mental illness is a stigma, don’t get me wrong. I just wish there was a more accurate and severe phrase like, “Mark of shame that you can never speak of, but screams more about who you are than anything you will ever do.” You know something catchy like that. 
My point is that cancer is horrible, but it gets the attention and funding it deserves. Mental illness is also horrible, but it is hidden, misunderstood and left only the dregs of support and usually only after someone has killed himself or herself. I have been struggling for over seven years with my own disorder, often alone. Even my wife, who spends every day with me doesn’t comprehend my struggles. Mental illness is such a sad state that I fantasize about being absurdly successful just so I can talk and advocate about my illness. That’s the level of disdain mental illness carries. One has to have celebrity status to be able to withstand the social prejudice that these disorders have. Until then, I will continue to fake a smile and pray in silence for those worse off that even myself.

Avoid the Crushing Consequences of Studying Too Hard

By William Jiang, MLS 
Might There Be a Link Between Learning and Depression? 

As September and the fall semester begins, I remember the rush I had as a university student caught up in the swirl of energy of my fellow students and myself, more than twenty years ago now. A smile lights up my face as I recall, and then I think of a dark joke that my brother taught me his freshman year at MIT.  A professor stands in front of a window after leading a tour around the campus, and he asks the students, “Do you know why MIT’s colors are gray and red?” All the freshmen students shake their heads. Just then, outside of the window, everybody sees a body falling to the cement below. “That’s why.” says the professor.

MIT has a higher suicide rate than the national average, but the joke reflects an underlying truth about campus life all over the United States. According to Collegedegreesearch.net, there are about 1,100 suicides on campuses around the USA each year, and, shockingly, six percent of all undergraduates have seriously considered suicide. Why is contemplating suicide so common among university students these days? A lot of stress, abuse of drugs and alcohol, as well as underlying clinical depression and anxiety are risk factors. Even if you are a learning machine, my advice is to take time to smell those roses because too much stress will take down even an ubermensch gifted student.

The Statistics 
One in four Americans suffer from a serious mental illness during their lifetimes, most often depression or anxiety. Serious mental health issues can be triggered by the stress of university or years of workaholism. It is no coincidence that depression is soon to become the number one cause of long-term death and disability worldwide by 2020, according to the World Health Organization. 

Reading and Mental Illness
University students read a lot. Problem? Maybe. Even high-achieving readers are predisposed to bouts of melancholia, according to medical history. Before the 19th century, doctors thought that the mere act of reading books could cause mental instability. See “A Text-book on mental diseases” by Theodore H. Kellogg. Also, see Wikipedia’s article on the history of depression: “Since Aristotle, melancholia had been associated with men of learning and intellectual brilliance, a hazard of contemplation and creativity.”

According to the Census of 1890 about one percent of one percent of the population or one in ten thousand people in all of the United States had a hospitalization for depression. Today approximately one in seven people in the US suffers from clinical depression and the rate keeps going up. In 1890 few people had the opportunity to educate themselves beyond a basic level of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Today, one in four people in the U.S. is a college graduate. As rates of college graduation go up year to year, so do the figures of people becoming clinically depressed. The question becomes, “What can be done to stay healthy?”

Protection: Omega-3 Fish Oil and the Prevention of Clinical Depression
I worked as a medical library chief at the leading psychiatric hospital in the United States, New York State Psychiatric Institute/Columbia Psychiatry, so I have a bad habit of quoting Medline to prove points. From the electronic publication Oxidative Medicine and Cellular Longevity, March 18, 2014, there is a journal article titled “Omega-3 fatty acids and depression: scientific evidence and biological mechanisms” wherein the abstract states that “..several epidemiological studies reported a significant inverse correlation between intake of oily fish and depression or bipolar disorders.” Free full text of the article is available to anyone who wishes to explore the article in more depth at pubmed.gov.

Back when I was an undergraduate, we did not know as much as we do today about the science behind a healthy brain and body, so we can do much more today than before to keep our minds and bodies healthy. Paradoxically, college students are less fit and more prone to suicide than ever before. According to Collegedegreesearch.net suicide rates for our youth are three times what they were back in the 1950’s, and diabetes rates are going through the roof among the Internet Generation.

I gave only one tip in this article about how to keep your brain healthy. For more great tips and techniques on how to keep your brain healthy and running in top form, as well as improving your university performance, I invite you to check out my book on Amazon: “Guide to Natural Mental Health: Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression, Schizophrenia, and Digital Addiction: Nutrition, and Complementary Therapies.” 

If you feel suicidal please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. 

How I Conquered My Fear of Cancer and Improved My Mental Health

By Tiberius Bauer
Positive Thinking, Nutrition and Exercise Very Important

My father said, “Never forget. When you pray, pray like it would be your last day, and when you finish, live like you would live forever.”  

I was born in Romania in 1951 and came with my family to the United States in 1965.

I was sexually molested when 11-½ years-old. My nickname was “Fatso.” 

My brother committed suicide in 1976. Both my parents died in the 1980s. My father from diabetes and colon cancer. My mother had a stroke.

My wife got diabetes. We went to the Mayo Clinic and a doctor in Texas. Insurance didn’t pay. I almost went broke. She had an operation on her legs. One was amputated. She died in 2002. I felt partially responsible for my wife’s situation. I focused on her physical health, but never gave her emotional support. 

I didn’t take care of my mental health. I thought about what happened to me when I was 11-½. I wanted to kill myself and tried twice. A psychiatrist said I was bipolar. He gave me medication. I stayed in a hospital and went to a clinic.

Other family members got cancer. Six of my friends died from it. Nine friends committed suicide. I had high blood pressure and kidney stones, poor eyesight and hearing, bad leg, arm, and shoulder, obesity and diabetes. 

I was ready to die. I had the pills and I locked the door. My roommate called my cousin in New Jersey. I was just about to take the pills when my cousin called. He invited me out for the weekend and said he had a surprise.  

The surprise was a Samsung 10-inch tablet. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

Now I could search the Internet for answers to my fear of cancer, how to prevent and treat it. I found good advice from Burton Goldberg, doctors Bernardo Majalca, Stanley Bass, Ian Jacklin, and many others.

This is my conclusion: Cancer is not a death sentence. It’s a major inconvenience.

#1 Cancer thrives on anger, depression, anxiety, and bad thinking. Think positively. Try cognitive behavior therapy and/or peer support groups.

#2 Sequential eating means eating the right foods in the right order. Mostly fruits, vegetables, beans, nuts, and grains. Eat all kinds of food in sequential order. Dr. Stanley Bass says, “Start with the food that has the highest water content, and work up to the food that has the highest fat content. Consume water or juices first, then fruits, vegetables, grains, beans, nuts and seeds and meats. This means you shouldn't drink liquids during or right after a meal, and fruit shouldn't be used as a dessert.”

#3 Combine foods rich in amino acids to increase nutritional value. I repeat, combine foods. Examples of foods that are rich in amino acids include eggs, animal protein, legumes, grains, nuts and seeds. Quinoa is one of the few plant sources that contains a full balance of amino acids, according to About.com (from reference.com).  

#4 Exercise. Aerobic exercise and/or weight lifting are good for mental as well as physical health. 

Now you have information I wish I had when my wife was sick. Maybe it could have saved her life. Consult a physician and make your choice. 

My fear of cancer isn’t gone. Heredity is the X-factor. I am not going to worry about it. I decided I do not want to have fear anymore. 

If I don’t take care of my diabetes, this is what’s going to happen: bad circulation, blindness, amputated legs. First, cane. Second, walker. Third, wheelchair. Then nursing home. Finally, death. I want to live a normal life.

If I save one life with my story I will be happy.

Note: To buy the complete version of his story, contact author at HowIConqueredMyFearofCancer@gmail.com. It costs $19.99, plus tax and shipping.