 These 3 people “from the outside” still stand out against the flood of stigma mental health treatment can rain down. They were like fishermen volunteering in their homemade boats to rescue townspeople treading water after a hurricane. They did not come across medical nor assigned, just like people alongside others trying to survive. Music Guy floated in and out of our treatment facility like it was a bohemian coffee bar on the East Side of Houston. He wore a corduroy vest and felt hat, wiffs of cigar smoke and old books lingered behind him. Music Guy walked comfortably, like he was catching a cup of coffee before his next gig. Music Guy said hello to you, as if you were an old friend who happened to be there eating a taco, someone to sit with for a moment to shoot the breeze. His demeanor was life-saving in my opinion because I just felt like an actual person around This Cool Dude. I can still feel myself sitting down beside him shyly on the piano bench, hitting the keys to peck a few notes. He accepted me and the other kids, connected with us about songs we liked and things we enjoyed doing. He would say, “Well, I like guitar, wanna hear a song?”. Listening to his tunes felt natural, like community. No big deal. When he was around, we relaxed and hung out with him, laughing. Yes, laughing in a mental hospital, it is ok. Lady in a skirt – I have a distinct memory of sharing freely with a visitor who came to my room. She had a slight floral aura, like a department store perfume sampler. She wore a plaid wool skirt and a buttoned blouse on top. Even though she seemed “buttoned up” on the outside, her demeanor felt soft and receptive. She told a story about her self and smiled. Lady in a skirt stepped in my room, but stayed in the small entryway. Lady in a skirt carried a notebook, but just held it loosely at her side, never wrote in it around me, and she did not approach the main part of the room with the bed in it. This felt fresh, like she was legitimately checking on Lynn, a person, not invading personal space or taking data. Lady in a skirt stood there like a person, not a uniform, standing still, tilting her head. She asked a couple questions but did not demand answers. I asked her questions too. Her wait time let me capture a few of my many thoughts and say them aloud. I remember pondering aloud, “If I find girls beautiful, am I gay?”. Lady in a skirt accepted the pondering nonchalantly and said I had time to figure it out, it was normal at this age to explore these questions. We discussed little likes, dislikes, and a big decision I had to make about where to go after the hospital.. Family Peer--The other nicest person ever was a family member who treated me like a peer, like good company. Family Peer came into the facility, sat beside me in the hallway next to my room, and we leaned against the beige woven plastic washable wallpaper. Family peer seemed relaxed and asked, “So, what is it like in this place?”, with sincere curiosity and wonder, treating me like a regular person in some kind of adventure. No condescension or analyzation. No notebook or clipboard. This made me feel like I wanted to get out even faster because I had a friend. These memorable folks did not seem to be following a script or curriculum. But they gifted a life-saving lesson-ACCEPTANCE | ___Says it better than I can. |
