Life with cognitive differences

I am close to age 60, and I have lived with substantial psychiatric issues for the past 42 years, my entire adult life. It’s a difficult fact of life and it will never go away. In this essay, I will summarize some of the hardships that come with being considered severely mentally ill. This manuscript is in no way comprehensive. Because having a mental illness affects everything. 

When I think of being a “mentally ill” person, I instantly flash on the intolerant attitudes of those in the general public. The attitude of the intolerant is that we are “less than,” and to some, we aren’t even people at all. People believe we must remain within bounds of outpatient institutionalization. It is a form of segregation based on the belief we do not merit living in public as equals. 

When we try to go out to public places, as though we are an actual person and entitled to do a task in public (e.g., to get a haircut, to use an ATM at a bank, to get a meal at a drive thru), we face suspicion. When something goes wrong, the mentally ill person is the first person to blame. People have contacted me to interrogate me about my travels in public places. These accusations are a pattern. I’m not going to name who accuses me of wrongdoing just for being in public. I don’t want to ruffle people’s feathers. But they’re out there, and they’re everywhere. People attribute wrongdoing to mentally ill people automatically. 

A woman who was head of a church in Berkeley accused me of wrongdoing picked up on her security camera. When I protested and insisted that I had not set foot in Berkeley for years, she sent me an email banning me from her church, threatening to bring police into the picture and forbidding me from contacting members of her church. But I had attended meetings via Zoom only, so I had done nothing wrong. 

Another thing that comes to mind when I think of being a person with mental illness: the debilitating side effects from psychiatric medications. Antipsychotic medication in particular has awful side effects that often entail physical and mental suffering. These include, but are not limited to, muscle rigidity, akathisia, and dysphoria. Taking antipsychotics, honestly, feels like crap. 

Among those who deal with “mentally ill” people, for their profession or among family members, the consensus is that we lack the insight that we are ill and that’s why we stopped our medication. But the suffering brought about by medication and how it affects the body, is a major piece of the puzzle that professionals and family members conveniently don’t acknowledge. 

The next thing that enters my mind is that I, Jack Bragen, am considered not truly mentally ill, but a criminal faking mental illness for personal gain. The reality: I have proactively treated my condition and I have gotten well. I have followed the directions I was given. I continue to need medication. I continue to need counseling. But I am able to think very well, and I am able to do many things that require skill. People assume that a “mentally ill person” could never do this. I never bought that garbage. Yet I have taken medication and have actively pursued therapy, and I have recovered to the extent possible. People don’t understand that a lot of work went into getting me to the level where I am now. 

Another point: mentally ill people usually lack income. A person processed by the mental healthcare system will find it very hard to participate in work. The medication is a big factor because of how it limits the brain. And there are a lot of social factors that play a part. If a person takes heavy dosages of antipsychotics, they may not be able to make it in conventional employment. If you cannot do full-time professional employment, you won’t have money. 

When I worked as a janitor, which is conceivably a job that requires some physical skill and effort, it was a massive struggle to make my body do the work, as I was fighting the limiting effects of medication. When I tried other jobs, it was always a huge struggle to keep pace and often I couldn’t. I was always working against the limits imposed by meds. (If you want to work while on medication, I seriously recommend the brainiest possible job, because your work isn’t judged by speed.) 

However, I have seen some people do just that. There are some mentally ill people who are exceedingly high functioning and can perform at a job as well as or better than most in the general public. I personally can’t. I can sit at home and write. But I can’t handle the demands of conventional employment. When I was in my twenties, I was employable to an extent. But being close to 60 and fighting four decades against the limiting effects of antipsychotic medication, I experience a form of burnout where my body goes into hyper-nervousness. So now, I just can’t do it. 

Because of unemployability, most mentally ill people are forced to do without money. Lack of money is the intention of the decision makers in government. It is a convenient method of restriction. 

I don’t object completely to this concept if my basic needs are met, and so long as I can have a moderately comfortable and secure living situation. When it comes time to replace office equipment or to buy a television, I’m going to need money. Money is necessary to pay for housing. Thus, if the housing has issues, the absence of money can be terrifying. 

Being disabled with a psychiatric condition puts the ill person at risk for homelessness and incarceration. These are worst-case scenarios, but they bring me a lot of fear. 

The crisis of homeless mentally divergent people, dying before our eyes on our streets, who do not have a roof over their heads, who do not have food, and who do not have access to essential treatment for medical conditions (not just mental health conditions), is shameful. And intolerant people suspect mentally ill people of wrongdoing, so we are blamed for our homelessness as well. But don’t blame the victim. This is caused by the public electing do-nothing politicians. And it is caused by the ridiculous rental amounts, which in turn means that disabled people do not receive enough money to live on. 

Additionally: the symptoms themselves of a mental illness, a mental condition, or a divergence, call it what you will, create a lot of suffering. I have unfounded fears that keep coming back, that are generated by my mind, and sometimes there is no evidence supporting these beliefs. Yet these fears are quite strong. And that’s after many years of treating my condition and trying to improve my thinking. 

The symptoms of psychosis can lead to poor decision-making. A year ago, I decided to live in a different apartment complex than the one where I’d lived many years. I’d believed things would be better. It turns out they’re not. The change in living situation was foolish. I did not anticipate how difficult living would become.

But even with these difficulties, I have been determined that psychiatric illness would not ruin my life. In some respects I’ve lost the battle. In others, I’ve turned the tables on people and situations expected to finish me. 

But we need more help than the government affords us, and we need more people to understand that even though we may be suffering from an illness, we are not “less than,” but people just like them. Many of us are denied these basic things. Mental illness ruins many people’s lives and ends some people’s lives, far too soon. We deserve better treatment from society than we are getting, we deserve to have our basic needs met, and we deserve some amount of comfort.