I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how my life could have
unrolled if I had been born into a different situation. I see everyday how mental illness and
economic access interact, both in my work and personal life.
The US is completely unequipped to deal with people with
mental illness. I am so, so blessed to
belong to a family that had the wealth and ability to take care of a daughter
with a serious mental illness; without their resources, I would have ended up
like most of us – homeless or in prison.
Without a mother and father who were able and willing to
intervene early in my life, I doubt I would have finished high school, much
less attended college. I would have
dropped out and tried to support myself with whatever work I could find, if I
could keep it. Because of my father’s
health insurance, I’m able to afford expensive prescriptions and personalized
treatment, but I could have just of easily tried to self medicate with illegal
drugs.
Just one drug offense could have landed me in jail – if I
had been born Hispanic or African American, the chances of my using would have
been equal, but the odds of me being incarcerated for the same offense would be
seven times greater. The mental health
services available to people in prisons are abysmal, especially in underfunded
states like Alabama and Texas; without the psychiatric intervention I received
at age twenty and the constant vigilance, I could have been a “trouble maker”
and be sent to administrative segregation.
I would be kept twenty four hours a day in a small cell without
psychiatric help, fresh air or sunlight, room to move, or meaningful human
contact.
After being released from prison or jail, US Americans are
ineligible for social services and can be legally discriminated against for
jobs. The rate of recidivism in this
country is astounding – two thirds of people return to prison after being
released. Even if I managed to stay out
of prison, I would have no governmental assistance and probably wouldn’t be
able to get a job. I would be homeless
and mentally ill, like a third of the people living on the street.
My parents’ wealth – not my own abilities – bought my ticket
to a secure, comfortable life. In fact,
without their wealth, my abilities would be useless, lost under a tenuous grasp
on reality rather than buttressed by a first-class education.
I profoundly wish that other people in the chemically
imbalanced boat had the same opportunities that I have. Instead I’m face to face with a system so intrinsically
unjust that I feel like I’m emptying a pool with a tea spoon. It’s enough to drive a person crazy.
Check out Presbyterian Serious Mental Illness Network for information and some great resources.
Check out Presbyterian Serious Mental Illness Network for information and some great resources.