"Mental Health Awareness Month" [Edited and republished 9/7/2024]

 

This photo is from "A Day of Hope" in Watertown, NY. I was asked to perform at this event, which took place on 6/1/2024. I met some very cool people who connected me to live performances at recovery-based events. As Mental Health Awareness Month ended, I became more active within the recovery community. This is a great photo. I truly enjoy it when children show an interest in music.

"I used to be the type of kid that would always think the sky's fallin'

Now I think the fact that I'm differently wired's awesome

‘Cause if I wasn't, I wouldn't be able to work words like this

And connect lines like crosswords

And use my enemy's words as strength

To try and draw from, and get inspired off 'em

‘Cause all my life I was told and taught I am not shit

By you wack fuckin' giant sacks of lyin dog shit" - Eminem (from the song "Legacy")

*This song was a rallying call when I was at my low points a few months ago. I have a deep appreciation for the healing powers of music. It used to evoke tears. I need it less now, but I appreciate having it in my toolbox to this day. Thanks, Slim!

I spent a great deal of time earlier today writing a post only to scrap the whole thing. It's not gone forever. I copy/pasted what I wrote into a Word document and saved it in my "Memoir" folder. Those hours were not wasted. What I wrote will serve as a prompt, maybe even a rough draft when I feel ready to tackle the monumental task of writing a book about my life. I meant this post to be short and to the point. It evolved into a chapter. My decision to start from scratch came after I walked away from my computer and thought about the message I wanted to convey. 

Mental Health Awareness Month was extra special to me this year. With current goals and present realities considered, I decided to save the back stories and emotional tangents for a project in the future. For now, I'll focus on the positive things I accomplished.

1) The Jefferson County Mental Health Awareness Walk was on May, 15th 2024. Writing about this brought emotions out of me that I didn't expect. Those emotions were a mixture of positives and negatives. I have past ties to the event. I considered not attending it for that reason. 

I've committed the remainder of my life to specific causes and activism. Sitting it out would not have aligned with my sensibilities or mission. I attended on my own terms though. 

I once served on the Jefferson County Mental Health Awareness Walk Committee in a professional capacity. I was apprehensive about participating for this reason. That career definitely did not end on a positive note. It's not as relevant to the story as my original attempt at this post would have implied. I suggest reading my previous post "Psychiatry Done Right (For Once)" for context on the subject.

Attending the event and representing the #prescribedharm community was my only objective, even in silence. I originally wanted to inquire about speaking at the opening ceremony. I had conversations with some current committee members I felt comfortable talking to. The idea of speaking at the event appealed to me on some level. Maybe my desires were vindictive. That was at least, part of it.

I drafted a speech. It was too much stress. I have many projects on my plate these days. Speaking got kicked off the priority list in favor of music, this blog, my recovery, and other writing projects. Just attending the event required courage. Pragmatism won out.

As expected, I was uncomfortable on arrival. So many familiar faces...yeah, "familiar" is the correct word. I smiled and offered salutations, repeating in my head that the opinions of others don’t matter. Their opinions aren't even known to me. Projection isn't healthy. I am working on my propensity for assuming the worst.

I made my way to the auditorium and settled in. I listened to proclamations and keynote speakers. I was annoyed by much of the content in those speeches, but I had my didn't regret my decision. It wasn't so bad, but always expect the unexpected (pro-tip).

Without warning, one of the committee members asked me if I wanted to give a testimonial. I froze for a moment. I couldn't turn down that opportunity and simultaneously call myself an activist. Activism is not meant to be comfortable. If it is, it's not effective. I couldn't waste an opportunity to speak to an auditorium full of people. Well…pretty full. I'd say approximately 200, many of them clinical professionals. I knew I had to say yes to the invitation, not just for myself, but for the non-clinical people who receive mental health services. I am one of them.

I listened to many testimonials before giving my own. They were all similar, mostly stories of perseverance, hope, and triumphant metamorphoses while living with mental illness. Every speaker self-disclosed their diagnosis or multiple diagnoses. A few were also in recovery from substance use disorder. I can check both of those boxes. They thanked the agencies who helped them along their journey. It didn't go unnoticed that they were all far more prepared to speak than I was. Their testimonials were either written or typed out. I would be shooting from the hip.

I don't often feel high levels of anxiety anymore, but in that moment, I was trembling. I don't speak publicly as a rule. That’s another reason I didn't sign up to; a subconscious fear I hadn't fully considered beforehand. I let another speaker cut ahead of me in line. The adrenalin was pumping. I was petrified, totally unprepared, and fully aware that what I had to say would be controversial. 

Finally, I heard my name called. Putting one foot in front of the other, I grabbed the microphone, scanned the crowd, and introduced myself.

"Good morning, my name is Shawn and I feel great today!" Applause. 

What followed was cautiously improvised. I spoke about the increased funding the County had recently been awarded by the State to increase the availability of mental health services in the area. This was previously announced in the opening remarks. My inner anarchist kicked in. I praised the increase in access but made a strong statement about the importance of quality over quantity. I absolutely meant to step on some toes.

Other topics included:

-Active participation in one’s own treatment, being the boss in those situations, and setting your own goals.

-Insistence on person-centered treatment.

-Informed consent! I know this was an uncomfortable term for practitioners to hear. I hope it was. This is almost non-existent in mental health treatment. I went a step further. I urged patients to ask for counseling from a pharmacist before ingesting psychiatric medications, to discuss potential side effects and interactions up front, and for fuck sake; state your comorbidities loudly.

My improvised testimonial was interrupted by several rounds of applause. I talked about my cancer battle and my recovery status. Those were hits. I said "um" a lot, so I joked about it. People laughed. I don't recall everything else I said, but those are the key points. 

"You know yourself better than anyone else", was maybe my favorite line. 

I said what I wanted and wrapped things up. I don't remember what I closed with. Something meant to inspire, I'm sure. I was proud of myself. Some of those who know me well told me I held back. Of course, I did. I knew my audience. I hope to partner with some of those professionals in the future in the interest of making positive changes to a broken system. I could have indulged my own selfish urges to bash the hell out of mental health treatment practices. I didn't make it just about me. The cause came first. No regrets.

With the difficult part over, I happily participated in the walk and the picnic that followed. Many strangers approached me and complimented my testimonial. Some thanked me. Others shook my hand, mostly patients. My people. 

Some of my former colleagues spoke to me at the picnic. I received some hugs. It was a little weird, but I carry myself differently now. I'm assertive as fuck. When it felt weird, I made things weirder. That seems to be my superpower. I used to think my weirdness was a deficit. It isn't. I just needed better people in my circle.

A hotdog lunch, a drum circle, and some more conversations followed. It was a good day. I introduced the new me to the mental health awareness community. I'm just getting started. I really have become an activist. Unexpectedly, I became a public speaker as well. I welcome future opportunities to speak. Lookout world. 

2) Throughout the month, I posted like crazy on social media about the harmful practices of psychiatry. I connected with others like myself on X (Twitter) from all over the world. My blog post "Psychiatry Done Right (For Once) was read 35 (50 now)  times. I learned a lot. 

Some of the people I've connected with on X are psychiatrists, nurses, and other professionals in the field who are just as critical as I am about modern psychiatry. In 2024, online activism is an important networking practice. Nothing will ever be equal to the real deal: in-person networking. There is power in being present.

3) On a negative note, my therapist quit suddenly. That sucked. My wish now is to be discharged. I do not want to deal with another new one. The thought of setting my own rigid boundaries again, with a stranger is not something I look forward to. Immediate discharge would have legal ramifications right now. I need to stay the course, but I will protect myself.

I was hoping to receive EMDR therapy, but I'm not sure where I stand with that now, as far as my place on the waiting list goes. In response to that uncertainty, I have taken the responsibility of processing past traumas onto my own shoulders. My method is self-guided exposure therapy. It's not for the weak, but I'm making strides. I'm not weak. I believe in myself and am mentally healthier than I ever can remember. 

4) I finally got to meet with my new primary care physician yesterday. I love her! She ordered all of the bloodwork I requested and more. I have to get a colonoscopy...ugh. I am 50. It should have been ordered years ago. The best news of all: she is referring me to a neurologist!! I never thought I'd be so excited for an opportunity to prove that I'm stupid. Stupid is the wrong word. I have iatrogenic brain damage from being negligently prescribed Olanzapine for situational depression. I will again suggest reading my previous post "Psychiatry Done Right (For Once)". The science and back story are explained in great detail.

5) Mental Health Awareness Month ended on a positive note. I did more volunteer work in the interest of Mental Health Awareness. 

This is not the concise post I planned on writing, but it is on point. Mental Health Awareness Month has become very important to me. Upon reflection, I really made it count. Hell, I kicked its ass. I have transformed myself into someone I can be proud of. I can't explain how unlikely all of this is. I should have died in 2023. I state this often because it's true. When I woke up from kidney cancer surgery on February 15th of this year, I promised myself I would live the rest of my life with great purpose. That's exactly what I'm doing..This is just the beginning.

I do have a lot more to say on the subject of mental health and the draconian, profit-driven methods of treatment. So many stories to tell, but I'm taking a long break from the topic. The duration of which is undecided. I'll know when I know. My focus is shifting to other endeavors. That's a positive thing. 

I'm playing music at an event called "A Day of Hope" in Watertown tomorrow. I'm now committed to playing a positive role within the recovery community.  I needed time to grow into that. Recovery has been an uncomfortable topic for me in the past. I'm working on a new album of original music. My links to all of my pages and music accounts are conveniently located at the top of my Blogger home page, "The Journey". Just some useful information I thought I'd throw out there. 

I share these things because before my surgery, I didn't hear a calling, had no passions, and was merely existing without purpose. I was a broken 50-year-old man with nothing to talk about but my "glory days". Now, I speak and write about the present. Not bad for someone who was considered finished and waiting around to die a year ago. Perhaps there will come a day when I am comfortable writing about spiritual awakenings. Today is not that day.