“They’re coming to take me away - ha-ha, hee-hee, ho-ho - to the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time!” (song written in 1966) Thankfully, times are changing. We don’t laugh about those who are struggling mentally and emotionally. We don’t call psychiatric institutions ‘funny farms’ anymore. Thankfully , times are changing. We have come to a better understanding of psychiatric conditions. We now know that there may well be a medical basis for particular mental difficulties. It’s there, in the DNA! Thankfully, times are changing. The stigma surrounding going to a mental health professional has diminished. People are more willing to be vulnerable - which is a strength. And a step toward developing healthy resilience. And I hope that times will continue to change. That we can keep our eyes open and see the value of every single person. And that we can become more connected to our soul as essential for a healthy and meaningful life.
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"Ramblings on the Psych Ward"
Upon my arrival in Israel last week, I found myself waiting in line at passport control. And what a line it was! By my estimation, about 250 people were in front of me. At the slow rate things were moving (there was only one person working there that day due to a strike), I figured it would take a couple hours. Now, virtually everyone in line was grumbling. And oh so tired after a ten hour flight. I tried to control myself, tried to use the time wisely with reading, but admittedly I was grumbling too. Why? I talk a lot about not letting external things get under our skin, that we have the ultimate freedom to choose our reaction to those things that come our way. Still, I grumbled (to myself). And then something happened. Out of nowhere, an airport worker comes over to me, asks for my passport, and checks me through ahead of everyone else. I said to her : “how about these people in front of me?” And she looked at me sternly and said “I know what I’m doing.” At that point, I decided it best to keep my mouth shut. But the whole thing was strange, unpredictable, so seemingly random. Who can explain?
Patients in psychiatric hospitals ask questions, a lot of questions, as they should. With most of their possessions having been taken away from them, and with the door to the ward being locked, they want to know what’s going on. I don’t blame them.
The most common question, of course, is “when can I get out of this place?”.
At other times they will get personal and ask questions about me, my life. Obviously, I need to use judgment as to what to share. But I think the question I have enjoyed most is “Dr. Guterson, do you ever wear anything different than a black shirt?”
And then there is another common question that comes my way from time to time and the dialogue goes something like this:
“Dr. Guterson, I hope you don’t mind my asking but what are those strings hanging out there on the side of your pants?”
“No problem at all, thanks for asking.
It says in the Bible that a Jewish man should wear a four cornered garment and attach strings to each of the four corners. These strings are called tzitzits.”
“OK…..?”
“Yeah, it is sort of strange. But think of it this way: I’m wearing this holy garment that‘s right here, on me, surrounding me, all the time. And so it’s a great physical reminder that there’s a G-d or a Higher Power or whatever you want to call it above us. I can’t say that it always works that way for me, but I try.”
“Wow, that is the coolest thing I ever heard. Where can I get one of those?