The Mask of Mork

The genie has been set free; the nanny has retired; Peter Pan has slipped beyond the second star to the right; the good doctor has checked out; the radio waves of Vietnam have gone silent. Today we lost an icon, an artist, a genius, and a cornerstone of our own happy cinematic memories and childhoods. Robin Williams has spanned several genres of films, TV shows and stages, creating characters and commanding audiences with his vocal talents for decades. He was one of the few actors who mastered both comedy and tragedy with a physical presence of body language and facial contortions that made us laugh and an intensity in his brow with a softness in his blue eyes that touched our hearts. But like the dark side of the moon, he had another side of him few knew or saw, and today his lost his long battle with depression.

Robin has had a few clashes with fate in the past forty years, admitting to a cocaine addiction back in the 70s and 80s, which he finally beat. Unfortunately years later in 2006, he entered rehab for alcoholism. Earlier this year, he checked into rehab again for maintenance, reporting that he was “fine-tuning” himself though he had not slipped off any metaphorical wagon. Numerous reports have lamented that he was suffering from severe depression as of late, but none have expanded as to the duration of this depressive bout or potential triggers.

I think the most shocking component of this tragic ending was the stark contrast of Robin’s life compared to the nature of his death. Robin was not known for being deep and brooding; while achieving great depth in some of the characters he created, some stories suggested he could barely manage to stay in the darkness required to breathe life into them. Filming one particularly heavy scene in a movie whose name escapes me at the moment, it was reported that once the director yelled “cut!” he would immediately burst out of the solemn state of his character with spontaneous comedic relief. It was almost as though his typical light heartedness and energy could not be confined to the suffocating devastation of his alter egos. Looking back I think he couldn’t bear to be crammed back into the storm cloud that he probably held much more familiarity with than he cared to admit.

Robin was hands down my favorite actor. I loved him. I loved his laughter and the way his eyes squinted up when he smiled. I loved that he was extra fuzzy and usually made light of this in many of his films. I loved that he seemed like a soft hearted teddy bear and I never once heard a negative story about him in the press, ever. So I think I struggle more with the realization that his resounding personality of boundless joy and happiness was a cloak that covered his shattered spirit, that the man we all fell in love with was wearing a mask which exuded rays of light to blind us to his inner demons; a mask that is standard equipment when dealing with depression.

Until today I had never cried over the loss of a celebrity. I have always met such news with chirps of “that’s too bad,” “wow he/she was so young, so unfortunate,” or “I never thought it would happen to  him/her.” I think this was due in part to my love for his work and who he was, but also a subconscious reaction to the fear and awareness of recurrent depression. For some, depression is a single snapshot in a difficult moment of life that they eventually overcome and move on. For others, depression is a lifelong battle that can never fully be won. You have to constantly put yourself in check, know your baseline, know when it’s the normal blues and when it’s more severe, get those therapy “booster shots”, and take time for yourself. There’s always a lingering fear that it could come back, there’s always that little shadow in the corner of your being, aching to creep up into your core and take over again, and sometimes it takes an army to beat it back down into submission. Never elimination, just submission. Robin tried, god love him he did, but it was too little too late.

Suicide by asphyxiation. A simple, brief explanation of this tragedy but a superficial scratch to the glossed over surface that is the complexity of depression. It doesn’t sound the trumpets to the relentless antagonists that were his demons; it doesn’t pay tribute to the resilience of a man who battled darkness for years before emotional exhaustion left him with no more fight.  Like the eerie quiet that falls over the trenches in the early morn following a brutal battle, we sit in stunned silence with the overwhelming sense of absence in our hearts. Soon the grief will pass and we will be left with the warmth he poured into every character on his filmography, we will remember the better times, but for now, we pray for his peace of mind, to finally be blessed with peace. “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.” Be at rest, My Captain.

Exorcise the Gay Away!

June is LGBT pride month, which essentially means there will be a month long drought of rainbow décor and glitter in craft stores everywhere that will make the California water shortage look like Waterworld. And they certainly have something to celebrate: gaybugs have made immense amounts of progress in the last year, really within the last few months, given that the majority of states that had bans on gay marriage were challenged and the bans were overturned. It would appear that the scales have finally tipped in favor of the human rights movement, though the progress treads dangerously close to the borderline, and the percentages of proponents and opponents are sometimes varied by a few points. Public opinion obviously shifts depending on where you stand in the hemispheres of America, as seen in this unpleasant video on ABC's WhatWould You Do. There are still those who think it’s a sin, there are still those who think it’s disgusting. Most importantly, there are still those who think it’s a choice with a cure.

Conversion Therapy, once known as Gay Aversion Therapy, has lost popularity in mainstream mental health services gradually since homosexuality was eliminated as a mental disorder in the DSM in 1973. Prior to that, aversion therapies ranged from talk therapy and prayer to catatonia-inducing medications, shock treatment, and even lobotomies. Being gay was viewed as an unnatural diversion from the evolutionary, biological, spiritual, and moral norm; a disease that must be treated and cured alongside polio and leprosy. But even as early as the 1920s, individuals were starting to recognize the folly in this belief. One being Sigmund Freud, who was never really a particular favorite of mine, but scored bonus points with me when I uncovered this quote about conversion: “’in general to undertake to convert a fully developed homosexual into a heterosexual does not offer much more prospect of success than the reverse.’ Success meant making heterosexual feeling possible, not eliminating homosexual feelings.” And so many of these therapies focused on the latter; shock that was administered in pairings with “inappropriate visual stimuli”, if successful, only created a negative association to homosexual feelings. Heterosexual feelings were never fostered, and most “cured” gays were expected to live the life of a celibate or fake orgasms with their heterosexual partners. Documentaries focusing on these so-called ex-gays usually depicted men with plastered smiles on their faces, perched on a couch next to their wife, holding a bouncing baby, and seething with self-hatred and distaste for life. Some of these men eventually “regressed” back to their homosexual lifestyles once they found self-acceptance.

But these issues were from decades and even centuries ago, right? We’re no longer plagued with such ignorance. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association, American Association of Marriage and Family Therapists, the American Medical Association have all unanimously spoken out against the practice of gay conversion therapies citing the damage that it can create and the principal of the Hippocratic Oath: Do No Harm. Conversion therapy feeds into guilt and shame, which causes depression and suicidal ideations. So why is it that only recently some states are beginning to adopt bans against this harmful treatment?

Just one year ago in 2013, Governor Jerry Brown determined that it was illegal for mental health providers to administer conversion therapy to minors identifying as LGBT given that many of them were being forced into treatment by overzealous parents. New Jersey has a similar law, which means no more straightening camps, no more trivial therapy sessions, and no more private lashings (sadly, this does not apply to religious organizations such as pastors or priests, who are not licensed mental health professionals and always seem to think they can do whatever the hell they want anyways). Illinois is on its way to passing a conversion ban, as was New York, but unfortunately, ongoing passage of these protective legislations has hit obstacles.

As New York prepared passage, they were stalled because these so called ex-gays ventured out to a few meet and greets with law makers, trying to perpetuate the image that there is nothing wrong with degrading and denying your true self. Though I can’t call it a surprise, Texas has also jumped on the bandwagon as earlier this week the Republic party unveiled its anti-gay platform. In addition to claims of gays being the devil and “tearing at the fabric of society,” they argued that they “recognize the legitimacy and value of counseling which offers reparative therapy and treatment to patients who are seeking escape from the homosexual lifestyle. No laws or executive orders shall be imposed to limit or restrict access to this type of therapy.” Likewise, in spite of the excess of medical and mental health associations noted above who are against conversion, and being one of the first states to ban conversion therapy for minors, the California Association of Marriage Therapists took a subtle stance against bans as well. While acknowledging that there is nothing wrong with being gay, CAMFT refused to go so far as to speak out against conversion therapy, stating, “CAMFT acknowledges that current cultural prejudice about same-sex sexual orientation compels some clients to seek out sexual orientation change due to personal, family, or religious conflicts, or to better fit into some cultural and religious norms[…] CAMFT advises mental health professionals that do provide assistance to those who seek sexual orientation change, to do so by utilizing affirmative multi-culturally competent and client-centered approaches that recognize the negative impact of social stigma on sexual minorities and balance ethical principles of beneficence and non-maleficence (sic), justice, and respect for people’s rights and dignity.”

So yes, we know that being gay causes distress in homosexual individuals. They are constantly faced with adversity, discrimination, bullying, humiliation, and weekly if not daily reminders that their lifestyle is not moral, that they are Hell-bound, that they are dirty and second-class citizens. They are not afforded the same protections and rights as heterosexuals. They have been beaten, they have been shamed, they have been spit on and knocked down. But in what other circumstance would a mental health professional tell someone to change themselves to reduce stress from an outside source? “So your husband berates and beats you? Well let’s teach you how to stop being annoying and getting in his way.” “Oh your mom’s an alcoholic and it bothers you? Well, we’ll teach you to be a better child so she will stop drinking.” “Someone called you the N-word and burned a cross in your front yard? Well let’s start painting your skin white, and then no one will bother you.” “Oh it’s hard to be gay in today’s society? Well then, let’s straighten you out!” The responsibility of change needs to shift away from the client and out into the world.

The cornerstones of therapy are self-efficacy, self-esteem, and self-acceptance. When a gay child is distressed or depressed, it is not reflective of some innate internal struggle. It is the crushing dissonance this world has implanted in their small minds. And it grows with them; it consumes them. It is the mental health professional’s responsibility to challenge and destroy these distortions, to strengthen the client, to stand against social stigmas. As a lesbian, I can tell you, being gay is not a walk in paradise, and yes, life got hard, but I got stronger to survive it. I can’t and won’t be fixed; I’m not broken. As a mental health professional, I can tell you it’s not my job to fix anyone else who’s not broken either. 

The Therapist Formerly Known as Crazy

As mental health providers, we not only work to dissipate mental illness in our clients, to restore some semblance of normalcy to their lives, to give them a sense of calm in the storms of their minds, but nowadays we work harder than ever to destroy the social stigma that comes with mental illness. Our clients are surrounded by clouds of shame, and often refuse therapy or medication because they’re afraid of being crazy, looking crazy, or being labeled as crazy. What would our clients do, however, if they found out that we had once been crazy* too?

For any therapist who has sat through a loosely structured psychology class, you know it gradually shifts from being a period of lectured instruction to a group therapy session. For some reason, even the psych class provides a sense of safety and security to students that clients feel in a counseling office, and before you know it, it’s sharing time, and people are divulging their darkest secrets and sordid histories. Most have been through some harrowing experience at some point and time in their lives which undoubtedly drove them to such a profession to help others in their same plight. Unfortunately, depending on where you go to school and the level of progressiveness your professors may have, self-disclosure to your clients could be considered taboo; don’t share with your clients, redirect the conversation back to them.

Well, I don’t follow the old doctrine of self-disclosure (of course this once cost me a job interview). I believe that if you have processed your issues and you recognize that sharing something about your own experiences helps your client, then you should open up to them and foster a stronger therapeutic relationship. And I have been open about my own experiences with my kids. I have been through the ringer. There isn’t much that a kid can come through my office with that I haven’t experienced: verbal abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault, bullying, body image problems, issues with sexuality, divorce, cutting, depression, suicidal ideations, concerns about psychotropic medications, the list goes on. I have seen my clients respond in completely different ways when they realize I’ve lived it and I’m not talking out of my ass or pretending I understand their problems because I read about it in a textbook. But, why, when I see the benefit of self-disclosing to clients, am I so fearful of letting my colleagues know about the same things?

A few weeks ago I attended a lecture given by a social worker at our agency who struggled with her own major depressive episode, suicidal ideations and attempts, and ultimately her hospitalization. I marveled at her ability to be open about her experiences, even at her own place of work. I always feared the stigmatization if people were to find out about me. When I wrote blogs or created videos on YouTube talking about my issues, my family warned that I should take them down because potential employers could see them and would refuse to hire me. Or current employers would see it, deem me a risk, and fire me. As this woman stood before me I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that it may be okay to be a recovered head case and be successful in this field. I think of course, that some of this stems from a clinical supervisor who was not stable and forced me to feel as though I was not okay. Long after I disclosed to her my history and my ongoing difficulties with social anxiety, when things went sour with this particular supervisor, she had written in my employee file that I was a risk because I had at one point been depressed and suicidal (this was 13 years prior to my employment) and I was unstable because I suffered from anxiety, which made me unfit for licensure (it doesn’t). So, fearful, I locked my experiences away, but I can’t keep my mouth shut as well as I’d like. As bits and pieces slipped out in the workplace, in clinical supervisions, I panicked and wondered if I would be under close watch, if they would be assessing me for stability knowing that I had struggled in the past. I panicked at this lecture, which I attended with my current supervisor, because I knew I could not provide some feedback about it without giving more information than I should. But I think some of my anxiety came from wanting to share, wanting to stop hiding myself, wanting to shed the stigma.

One point that was echoed at this lecture was the one noted earlier here: you can empathize with your clients and connect with them on a whole different level because you have been through that same dark valley and you can join with them in ways someone who is ignorant of these experiences can’t. And why shouldn’t we self-disclose? Most, if not all drug and alcohol counselors and therapists are required to be recovered addicts and they share this freely to join with their clients. It demonstrates that there is hope; we can be the shining beacons for our clients by proving yes, we fought what you’re fighting and we survived, and you will too. And in spite of your history, you can still move forward in the world and get a job doing whatever you want because there’s nothing wrong with being crazy for a moment, and you can overcome and move on.

I reflect on my crazy. I was so lost, for 12 years I fought depression, hopelessness, my fears of the world, and the black-hearted people in it. It was a long and harrowing battle, and even after recovery, there is a constant fear of relapse. I have slipped on the precipice a few times and clawed my way back to the light before the darkness took hold again. I watch myself like a hawk. I gauge my serotonin and stress, my activity levels, my socialization, my sense of hope, my sleep, my eating habits, and my drinking habits. I watch the instruments of my functionality like a pilot flying a plane, working to maintain altitude. I have my markers; I know when the cabin pressure begins to fall and when it’s time to go back to therapy. But I have not and will not go back to where I was before. Read more about my journey here.

I want to help my clients. I want to stand at the top of the hill, guiding them through the treacherous path of their own struggles, lighting the way and holding their hand when they need it, because I know where the pitfalls are: I know where the ditch on the side of the road is, I know where the rabid dog hides behind the brush and where the ogre beneath the bridge lays, waiting to grab you by the ankle and drag you back to the depths of your own despair. I want to help the client who won’t take her medication because her family tells her only crazy people need that; I want to help the client who is afraid to come to therapy because someone might see them walking into the office; I want to help the one whose mother is so fearful of the stigma that she told her daughter to hide her treatment from the world and keep it a secret. But how can I help them fight the stigma if I’m afraid to face it myself? I can write it on a blog, I can film it on a YouTube clip behind the anonymous safety of my computer screen, so I should be able to say it face to face with people in the hub of mental health services. Besides, why should a counseling agency fear recovered crazies working for them? This therapy stuff is supposed to work, right? Otherwise, what the hell are we doing here?

*Please note that if this blog indicates in any way that I’m the unorthodox therapist, I am. And I’m not politically correct either. I truly believe that you can take a powerful word and disarm it by using it comfortably and often. I have no problem with using the word “crazy” to describe my experience and my state of mind when I was, well crazy, and I think if we can take back the power of the word, this too, will reduce the stigma of mental illness. Crazy just means chaotic, and that’s what life usually is for people who are struggling emotionally and psychologically. Embrace your crazy. It will make you stronger, it will make you a fighter, and it will make you a survivor. No one can take that away from you.