Diary on the Front Line of Mental Illness: Access, or Blockage?

Woke up this morning and watched a movie called You're Always Younger Than Those Guys. I don't know how emotional the people who made this film are, I just saw a young man who died suddenly. He was fine the day before his death, without the slightest abnormality, and he chose to take his own life the next day. He left a suicide note later, saying that although he still has a little bit of infatuation and concern for this world, he chose not to care about it. Please don't ask why, because he himself doesn't know why. The friend felt guilty for this: why didn't he even notice the slightest abnormality? When someone asked, he only answered that he didn't notice it, but he blamed himself, how could there be no abnormality? How could the person who chose to take his own life the next day was not abnormal? That's all the people who made the film said about it. Now, for people who suddenly choose to die, they don't even have the strength to explain, and they only answer that they don't even know why. However, it is very real. The anxiety in his heart chases him to the moment of laughter in the corner, but at the moment when a person decides to die, he doesn't even need the slightest reason.

On Monday I went back to the psychiatrist and told the doctor that I wasn't on medication and that I was doing fine. A laugh and laughter, as if the consultation was about to end. Somehow I talked about drinking alcohol recently, the doctor made a fuss, I waved my hand and said, either smoking or drinking, one has to be addicted to something, right? Is that right? Tobacco and alcohol, poisonous candies, must be the same, right? The doctor took my hand and said earnestly: Sister, when you feel that you have to rely on something, it is already wrong. Try to be patient, she told me. I accepted it with a smile, and walked out of the consultation room, thinking that people have to live so healthy? In the world of psychiatrists, what exactly is health? What is normal? Smoking and drinking are also not allowed. Everyone has to live like the pacesetter in "Us", without the slightest entertainment and emotion? The doctor suggested me to do psychological counseling, and I said that psychological counseling is useless. She said that you have to believe before it will work. So doctor: Why do some people take good medicine and see a psychiatrist, but finally choose to take their own life?

The people who knew each other the year before last chose to take their own lives, causing a lot of uproar on the Internet. What impresses me most is that some people say that this is the death of Chinese philosophy, and the Internet starts to talk about the "hollow disease" of modern young people. Little Poland was quickly destroyed, but his death will forever remain in my heart. At the time, I was madly wondering why she chose to die, trying to explain a reason or two, but I also know that this kind of thing gives you a million reasons and you still don't understand, because it is the time , the complex crux of taking a life, only visible to the individual.

This also explains why the young people in the movie choose to die without leaving a reason. The writer tries to convey the one or two reasons, he mentions anxiety, but it seems so feeble. In the suicide note left by the person who chose to take his life mentioned above, he revealed his hard work in seeking medical treatment. In the end, he said that the psychiatrist couldn't understand anything and couldn't get any help from there. My attending physician said: If you can't find it, keep looking. As a physician, her position shows that life is always open, and as long as you look for it, there is hope. Why doesn't the public want you to think like that? There are more than one or two Internet bloggers who took their own lives. I didn't understand, I felt sighed and regretted, and the passing of those lives made me feel sad and powerless. Last night I reconnected with my former psychiatrist, and I felt like I was smiling brightly on this side of the camera. It's not pretending, but because I'm having a really good time. I told her that the reason for getting back in touch with her this time was that the doctor advised me to do so, and even though I disagreed, I did it anyway. So I talked to her about some happy things recently.

Everyone has a mask. People with mental illness usually show people with a smiling face. They know how to pretend better than anyone, and know the meaning of a smile better than anyone. How to face this mask - is a profound proposition. Someone chooses to expose, at the right time, he has to ask you why? Someone once said to me: If you can't laugh, don't laugh. I was so moved that my smile solidified and I almost burst into tears. But afterward, why didn't I show people with a smile as always, my friends called me affectionately, because my smile mask was often hung on my face, which made people feel very comfortable. Other times, when I was smiling, I suddenly put on a deep face that I didn't even realize, and the people on the other side were often startled and felt that they had seen a completely different person. I want to say that the chemical reaction between people is very important. If I am willing to open my heart at this time, the topic may slide down in one direction, and at the other extreme, I will clean up my face and continue to talk to the opposite. People are laughing and laughing, talking about some and not, it's a fantasy.

In the conversation last night, the psychologist always had a bitter face. Although I didn't say it at the time, I felt more and more uncomfortable after thinking about it. This is the same face I put on when someone first confessed to me a few years ago that I was mentally ill. Afterwards, I asked her every day, how are you? How are you? Naturally she would feel the same pressure as I did last night, and of course I'm in hindsight, thanks to what she told me. Later, I told my friends, "Are you okay?" This sentence is like an invisible pressure that crushes a person's last line of defense in minutes. It took many years for my friend to tell me that she finally understood the meaning of my words. So, don't easily ask others: "Are you okay?" This sentence is very poisonous.

The counselor didn't say that to me, but everything she said to me seemed to say the same thing. Just when I made it clear and told her that I was doing well, but that I had nothing to do with you, she insisted on treating herself as a "psychiatrist". This is the source of my discomfort. Sometimes, the oppression that makes you feel that you are a patient comes from the attitude of the people around you towards you. You must know that this attitude will kill many people, so keep that in mind.

Invisible mental illness exists in every corner. Unless someone close to you has a mental illness, it's hard to really realize it exists. As I remembered in hindsight, the family history on my mother's side seemed to have a mental illness column. But kept silent. I think my mother was probably mentally ill to some degree, because her mood swings were unpredictable, even irritable. She doesn't know how to speak, she doesn't like to talk, and she doesn't know how to speak, which has an impact on our small family environment. My father is a happy person, laughing and laughing all the time, very talkative, and now he is not good at speaking at home. Grandma just said: he wants to talk, who to talk to? My mother is not at home recently, and my relationship with my father is better, but after all, I can see the current ceiling and can’t get past it. I often think in my heart: It would be better if my mother stayed out of town for a long time and didn't come back.

After celebrating my father's promotion last night and having dinner with him, all these mixed emotions are making me feel a lot of pain. At the same time, because I fell asleep on the sofa a few days ago and caught a cold, I have a headache, and illness can often destroy a person's psychological defense. In the past, when I had a headache, my first reaction was, why do I have a headache again? It's akin to a kind of deep-seated desperation, I think, as much as most people with old medical problems, and that's why I see a psychiatrist so often. The doctor never gave me the name of the disease, but only told me to solve this problem, to do things with a degree of relaxation, not to let my mind become tense into a line, and let my emotions ebb and flow. My mind is tense, causing headaches, which are symptoms I often feel. Because I love to use alprazolam, I think it is the most useful drug, and for a while, I am addicted to taking it. After my friend found out, they told me that this is not good, it can't be like this. I think their requirements are too strict. If you don't drink something, how can you live?

My headache reminds me all the time that your mind is unhealthy, your mental strength is slipping, and it's time to rest. But in the moment of rest, I couldn't help but think about the mess in my hand: when to do it? How to do it? well done? Can it be done? Can't do it? Can it be done? Too complicated thoughts is a survival characteristic that I can't let go. A lot of things are always accumulated in my mind, so I have no way to clarify, sort out one by one, and complete one by one. I learned from a friend two months ago: Isn't this a symptom of ADD? I feel that nowadays people seem to like to give themselves a random name, as if this is the only way they can safely accept their symptoms. She said that since accepting that she is a severe ADD sufferer, the only question left is how to get along with such a self. Now she is doing well, and she is also an ADDer.

Sometimes I even want to issue a disability certificate to these mentally ill people, so that the people around them don't push and oppress them. The world is so unkind to such a group of people. I read an article by chance last year, and then read it over and over again. It's called Culture, Psychiatry, and the Written Word by JC Carothers. Carothers points out the link between mental illness and social culture. Two main social-related considerations are proposed: the differences between auditory and written societies. Although mental illness can be seen in these two different societies, the former Carothers refers to the living conditions of non-civilized tribes in Africa, that is, a split between what is said and what is done, causing mental illness; the latter shows in the narrative that writing is the visual society. It is the split between what one hears, sees, and thinks. It is this split that can squeeze emotions in the bottom of the heart and become a factor that induces mental illness. To explain in more specific words, it can be said that what visual culture allows us to see is always the facts that are not related to ourselves. Whether or not these foreign concepts are planted in our hearts and formed between our inner self Pull, split. Ultimately makes us wonder: Am I right? Can I think so? They say I'm wrong to think this way, am I really wrong? Also last night, I shared a piece of news about Gu Ailing on social platforms. Because last night's anger and anxiety had peaked. Someone came to ask me privately, what do you mean by sharing? So I explained to her. She just told me: It turns out that I am not the only one who finds it strange! It turns out I'm not the only one who thinks there's a problem! She said that she once doubted the correctness of her thinking and feeling when she saw everyone singing the main theme of the song on social platforms. In the end, she concluded: You must insist on your own critical thinking, be very, very different from persistence, otherwise it will easily be eroded by the poisonous voices of the outside world.

It can be seen that visual culture has poisoned modern people deeply, and it has also caused communication barriers between people. The modern media environment keeps our inner voice from being spoken, not seen, and thus not understood and self-doubt arises. If it is said that this is for the sake of national governance, it does not seem that it can be refuted. Even I want to ask: Is the current social environment really suitable for us to survive? This seems like a stupid question today. When you open your eyes in the morning and wake up to see that it is not your own country that has been invaded, should you be grateful for the strength of the motherland? So much can happen overnight. Now I don't want to think about it anymore, because if I have to think carefully about all the problems, I will be really tired, painful, and hopeless. In that dark night last night, everything was so silent, so dark, and the drive home was irritating. Why does the car in front drive slowly, so irritating? Why do they block me in front of me and keep me from moving forward? Last night, I once again deeply realized that a mental breakdown is always a matter of the line, always a line. There will never be any reason on this side of the line or there. If you live in the past, it will be tomorrow, if you die in the past, it will be today. It will always stay in today, yesterday, the day before yesterday, in countless dark nights that have passed, day after day.

In the interpretation of Tao Qian's "Peach Blossom Spring", there is an explanation that clearly explains the "Fisherman's Road" and "The Path of the Enquirers". The Fisherman's Road is a passage, and the road of those who are interested is a blockade. Some people say that if you compare life to a game, if you hit the past, it will be a passage. Without the past, if you take a detour, it is not necessarily a dead end, but it is just a blockage. The blocked road is not a dead end, it is just a road that has not been taken alive. So it can be concluded that there is no dead end in the world, only the path that has not been passed. That is the road block. This is a very optimistic interpretation. Presumably it can only be born in the hearts of optimists.

Finally, I want to make a conclusion without beginning and end, which was originally written at the top of the full text: although when we understand the existence of mental illness, we find that when we approach it, we have always regarded it as a noun, and we are not aware of the meaning behind it. Everything is still unknown. As I have deeply realized, the boundaries of dealing with mentally ill patients are very sensitive, and it is difficult to say a common word, what it sounds like to them, a common thing to ordinary people, or a sentence. Joke, but in their world it's as friendly as a bomb dropped. The line in the brain of a mentally ill person is unusually clear, so clear that it seems that there is no line in the heart of an ordinary person. We never know how to deal with mental illnesses, let alone the responsibilities or burdens that we must carry with them. If we don’t understand, listen, or watch, we don’t want to take it, and we don’t know how to take it. Even well-known psychiatrists cannot truly understand, help, or empathize with their patients. They live alone and difficult in this world and society. It is not an exaggeration to issue a disability certificate to them. Because mental health affects their daily life, they lose their ability to behave in a general sense. People around them don't know what to do, and they still persecute and put pressure on them, as if they are also putting pressure on themselves. People who don't know how to deal with mental illness include the patient himself. How difficult is it to get through the blocked roads, and the passages are not necessarily everywhere. Tao Qian's path of "removing his armor and returning to the field" is not both a passage and a roadblock?

Lastly, a confession: oh, let's not engage in dualism, there are Jedi everywhere in dualism.

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Note:

1. Quoted from JC Carothers (1959) Culture, Psychiatry, and the Written Word, Psychiatry, 22:4, 307-320, DOI: 10.1080/00332747.1959.11023186

2. I am deeply saddened by the deceased employees of Byte. Hopefully the media can continue to be held accountable: what exactly took his life?