Psychiatry is considered the “poor relative” of medicine and, frankly, I do not understand why! It is a medical discipline with immense potential and whose knowledge and medication are increasingly advanced and with a valid intervention in the life of individuals. I understand the subjectivity inherent in this science because a patient consulting two physicians may obtain divergent clinical information but still it is not justified that such a prosperous legacy can be neglected (In the United States psychiatrists are known with non-doctors). When the World Health Organization predicts that depression is the disease of the century, I do not understand how this discredit remains valid. (If you disagree with this opinion we will have a coffee and discuss the subject!)
Yesterday I tried to show you my perpective and the quality of the voices I have inside my head so that in a metaphorical way you could experience what my last months of my life have been suffering, the agonized and desperate way my family and I often find ourselves faced with this new paradigm that imposes itself as the aridity and scarcity of food in the desert. It is very hard to deal with a mental illness because it conditionate all aspects of my life: I am robotic, I have lost all spontaneous movements and where there was joy – in my eyes – there is now a gaze that is caught on the horizon in a deadly act of existence. I can not run or dance: all my attempts resemble a robot that is learning how to behave like a human being. (Life is ironic, I always said that until I disintegrated in the atomic form, I begged God never to compromise my skillful dance moves, it seems that He has different plans for me!). My sexual appeling is almost nonexistent which conditions my intimate life, but I have a very understanding boyfriend who helps me to minimize this vulnerability. Sometimes when I go on the street and someone else looks at me, I fell they are afraid of me. It is a very great suffering to feel that people qualify me as someone dangerous person but, on the other hand, I understand I am black (with all the connotations associated!), I am 1.88 cm and I weigh 110 kg if, in fact, I impressed my strength could seriously hurt someone.
A NEW DESIGNATION
Since I suffer from mental illness I have three terms that people qualify me through: crazy, weak-minded and lazy. It seems to me important to clarify these designations. There are no crazy or insane people there are child-related situations that have been poorly housed in the mental compartments or genetic predispositions that justify human behavior (even the most bizarre!). I do not mean that individuals should not take responsibility for their actions; if I had killed someone following my homicidal thoughts I should be condemned accordingly – ultimately we are always responsible for our actions. When I hear that someone has addressed me as being weak-minded, I always want to laugh; if I am weak in the head how I was able to achieve the highest performances and qualify me for the ultimate event in the sporting panorama by defeating the best athletes of the international circuit: the Olympic Games. The laziness left for last because it is what revolts me the most; “Why do not you get a job, you’re not crippled?” “You do not want to do anything!” My objection to this argument is this: Does anyone require a wheelchaired to walk or a deaf to hear? If I am not with a more active life (as was my brand image) it is simply because I can not!
If you have ever suffered this type of comment in a situation where you were debilitated write to me: firstname.lastname@example.org. Unleashing opens new perspectives and new horizons
Do not forget: with the stones of your path build a castle – It’s all in you.