Caretaker Dominance in Mental Health Discussions

A few days ago, at the Orange County Mental Health Associations “Meeting of the Minds”, I attended a workshop on caretaker-patient-provider partnerships sponsored by our local NAMI. The material was very interesting and I sympathized with the panelists. Caretakers, they pointed out, can be a helpful part of the team that brings the patient to a place of recovery. They deserve to know what they can do to help the patient and this doesn’t mean that they have to know all the patient’s “dirty little secrets” as they characterized them.

But a few things struck me: First, at least a third of the panelists promulgated a “no fault” model of mental illness. This belief has been spread without challenge or acknowledgement of the studies that link the onset of mental illness to emotional abuse and bullying by NAMI. Though one speaker did allude to this, most of them adopted the model as applying in all circumstances, including their own. I can’t say for sure if they were telling the truth — I give them the benefit of the doubt — but I also know of plenty of abusive parents who use the shibboleth to hide their own history of family violence.
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A Response to Marya Hornbacher’s Research Project

Kitt O’Malley put me onto a research project by Marya Hornbacher who is writing a book that “will profile the lives of people who have a mental illness or who work in the field, and she’s trying to develop a deeper understanding of how the public views mental illness.” I couldn’t resist throwing in my own two cents. Because I have a long track record of never being included in such studies, I thought I would share my answers to her questionnaire here for your consideration and discussion:

Has mental illness affected you personally? If so, how?

Yes, I live with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADD. I lived in quiet torment for many years, occasionally bubbling over in rages that left my wife emotionally overwhelmed. This left me with feelings of deep guilt, but I didn’t do anything at first because I had been told that suffering was part of life and I should just buck up and endure it. When I finally did seek help, I was diagnosed with major depression and put on Prozac. Because I was “cured” the next day, I sought no further insights into my diagnosis until I came to the brink of committing suicide at age 47.
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