Category: Education

Categories
Education Observations Public health psychiatry

What is Mental Health? (03)

Let’s take a look at the last figure from the paper What is mental health? Evidence towards a new definition from a mixed methods multidisciplinary international survey. The authors call this the Transdomain Model of Health:

I like this model. (Do note, though, that the map is not the territory.) It reminds us of the interdependencies between and within ourselves. If our community isn’t doing well, that will affect our individual mental health. To intentionally use a trivial example (because there are WAY too many heavy things happening these days), consider a city’s baseball team. A not-so-fictional team called the Tridents has had some embarrassing games; hits are uncommon, fielding errors abound, and pitchers are giving up a lot of runs. Grumpy viewers write corrosive comments about the Tridents in the city’s newspaper. Suckers like me read the comments and feel a disjointed sense of “us”. Maybe some of these grumpy viewers are in foul moods for other reasons and they direct their ire at the Tridents because that’s easier to talk about than their alcohol or gambling problems. They would go to Cell Phone Carrier Stadium to grumble at the Tridents directly, but they are dealing with illnesses that limit their abilities to navigate social spaces. Most of us don’t feel psychologically fine when we are physically unwell.

Contrast this Transdomain Model of Health with this recent Psychiatric News article, Lifestyle Psychiatry Emphasizes Behaviors Supporting Mental Health.

The authors define “lifestyle psychiatry” as seeking

to cultivate well-being and support individuals in preventing and managing psychiatric disorders and optimizing their brain health.

(Editorial comment: I feel some vexation about “lifestyle psychiatry” because I don’t think “lifestyle psychiatry” should be a specialty with its own textbook. Every psychiatrist should practice “lifestyle psychiatry”.) While the authors concede that “patients may have cost or access barriers to traditional care” and conclude the article with a proclamation that lifestyle psychiatry is “a vital component in improving the health and well-being of people around the world”, the final sentence gives away the underlying sentiment of bootstrapping: supporting “individuals in taking ownership of their mental health and well-being” (emphasis mine).

The “social health” component from the Transdomain Model of Health is missing from “lifestyle psychiatry”, even though addressing social health will make it much easier for people to succeed in the “lifestyle psychiatry domains”:

It’s much easier to get physical exercise when there are generous green spaces, plenty of intact sidewalks, and public safety isn’t a concern. Healthy diets and nutrition are easier to achieve when fresh food is available and affordable. It’s easier to be mindful and take yoga classes when you don’t have to work two jobs to make rent. People sleep better when there’s no noise pollution; what if the affordable housing wasn’t only close to airports, trains, and freeways? Neighborhoods with “third spaces” make social relationships more likely to bloom.

To be fair, the lifestyle psychiatry authors do write of “consultation and leadership to governments, corporations, and health care systems” and informing “public education programs and community planners to support the creation of healthy communities [and] employers in creating healthy workplaces”. Their definitions, though, ultimately focus on individuals and do-it-yourself interventions with some consultation with your local lifestyle psychiatrist. (And, to be clear, I’m not saying that systems are the only issue. People do still need to make their own choices, but we can shift systems so it’s not as hard for people to make healthier choices. Life is already hard enough.)

Seattle was not anywhere near the path of totality for the total solar eclipse today. Over lunch I watched part of NASA’s live broadcast. And what a mush ball I am: I cried into my meal as I watched the skies turn to black, heard the crowds cheer and gasp, and saw the dancing corona of the Sun.

I’m not so naive to believe that being in community solves everything. However, I do believe that being in community–contributing to social health–can powerfully change the way we view and feel about ourselves, others, and the world around us. Millions of people witnessed a total solar eclipse in person or in two-dimensions today. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who cried while watching the broadcast. Three things had to be in place for this celestial event to occur: The Sun, the Moon, and the Earth. To witness this stellar occasion, we all had to be on the same planet. Maybe this is naive: I’d like to think that the shared experience of a total solar eclipse boosted our planetary social health. And, as a result, we individually experienced higher mental health today.

Categories
Education Medicine Policy Public health psychiatry Systems

What is Mental Health? (02)

To continue from my last post about “what is mental health?” and “what am I doing?”, let’s look at another figure from the paper What is mental health? Evidence towards a new definition from a mixed methods multidisciplinary international survey:

Figure 2C

This model argues that an individual’s mental health isn’t the sole product of that single person (because, yes, things are complex). “Society” also contributes to and affects a person’s mental health.1

The Covid pandemic provided plenty of empirical evidence that “society” has enormous influence on the mental health of individuals. Over a third of young people reported “poor mental health” and nearly half reported they “persistently felt sad or hopeless” in 2021. There were nearly 30,000 (!) more deaths related to alcohol when comparing 2019 to 2021. Two out of every five adults reported “high levels of psychological distress” at some point during the pandemic.2

The pandemic isn’t the only example of the power of “society” on mental health. Survivors of mass shootings can develop psychiatric symptoms or disorders. Residents of Flint, Michigan, could only access drinking water contaminated with bacteria, disinfectants, and lead. This contributed to elevated rates of psychological conditions like depression and PTSD. Poverty increases the likelihood of depression and anxiety.

“Imagine how many people I wouldn’t need to see if people never experienced homelessness!” I mutter (or exclaim) at least once a month. It’s not just homelessness: It’s working three jobs to make rent; it’s trying to keep the family fed and housed when one parent has major medical problems; it’s trying to leave an abusive partner; it’s trying to keep things together when a family member has an alcohol or gambling problem. Because much of my career has been in the “deep end” of the system, I often witness how misaligned and rigid institutions often bruise and scar the psyches of individuals and populations of people.

Maybe context matters more in psychiatry than in other fields of medicine. When I think, “What am I doing?”, I often wonder if I should work “upstream” in prevention and early intervention to help change these contexts. This includes advocacy for action that is outside the purview of medicine, such as lowering barriers to housing or increasing regulation of firearms.

Some physicians (and others) have argued that doctors should “stay in our lane”, that we should focus on treating conditions that we are trained to treat. Medical school didn’t teach me how to prevent psychotic disorders; it trained me to identify and treat schizophrenia. In residency I didn’t learn how to develop policy and programming to prevent war and rape; I was trained to provide care and support to someone with PTSD. I can help someone choose to put their gun away so they don’t shoot themselves; I don’t know how to organize people to persuade elected officials to change gun regulations.3

Of course, there’s a middle ground. My clinical experience and expertise give me the anecdotes and data to advocate for system changes. These system changes can improve the health of individual people. Furthermore, there are real people who have real psychiatric problems who need real help right now. As Paul Farmer said,

To give priority to prevention is to sentence them to death—almost to urge them to get out of the way so that the serious business of prevention can start.

I once worked for a medical director who often said, “I’d love to work myself out of a job.” It sounds disingenuous, but it’s true: I completely agree. How wonderful would it be if fewer people experienced psychological distress and problems with living! (Given the ongoing shortage of psychiatrists and other mental health professionals, this would be a win for literally everybody.) What if people didn’t believe that suicide was the best option? Or if people didn’t have to grapple with unending worry about where they will sleep tonight or when their next meal would be? I wholeheartedly concede that crafting legislative language and designing policies and programs are not my strengths. However, it also makes little sense to me to keep my head down and simply treat illnesses and suffering that can be prevented. Things don’t have to be this way.

(1) Again, if we’re going to be picky about words, I prefer the word “context” over “society”. “Society” suggests something uniform, when there exist microcultures within one society. For example, I’ve worked as a homeless outreach psychiatrist in New York City and Seattle. In New York I wore bright blouses with large ascots. In Seattle I wear dark hoodies. Same job, same society, different contexts.

(2) We can argue about whether these reports of distress and their associated behaviors reflect “mental illness” versus “mental unwellness”, in reference to part one of this series.

(3) While media reporting often focuses on guns and homicide, firearms cause more suicides than homicides.

Categories
Consult-Liaison Education Medicine Public health psychiatry Reading

What is Mental Health? (01)

To try to answer the perennial question I ask myself (“what am I doing?”), I recently read this 2015 article, What is mental health? Evidence towards a new definition from a mixed methods multidisciplinary international survey.

As a psychiatrist1, do I treat mental illness? What is mental illness? What is mental health?

The paper comments on the ambiguity in the definition of “mental health”:

Mental health can be defined as the absence of mental disease or it can be defined as a state of being that also includes the biological, psychological or social factors which contribute to an individual’s mental state and ability to function within the environment.

Upon reading this I recognized that I define “mental health” according to the second definition, “a state of being…”. This also explains why I internally bristle when people say “mental health” when they actually mean “mental illness”. (Example: The Lancet Commission on ending stigma and discrimination in mental health.)

Figure 2B, the Two Continua Model, resonates with me:

There are people with diagnoses of significant mental illnesses who have “high mental health”. (If we’re going to be picky about words, I’m not sure that I like grading mental health as “high” or “low”. Maybe “well” versus “unwell”? It is more common to hear “I’m physically doing well,” rather than “My physical health is high.”)

Consider the person with a diagnosis of schizophrenia who has been hospitalized multiple times in the past. However, now they go about their lives and only make contact with their healthcare team every few months for routine check-ins.2

Then there are people with no diagnosable mental illness who have “low mental health”. Consider the many people who felt psychologically unwell during the Covid pandemic.

I started doodling to try to determine where psychiatry should intervene along the axes of mental illness and mental wellness:

I have yet to come up with any convincing answers. This doodling did offer clarity, though:

My professional interest has been the diagnosing and treatment of (often severe) mental illness. There are many reasons for this. One compelling reason is that the severity of symptoms makes it unmistakable that professional intervention is warranted.3

Only after years had passed did I recognize that this worldview is why I chafed at some requests patients brought to me early in my career. I once went through an entire diagnostic interview with a guy who worked as a game designer. Nothing came up; according to the Two Continua Model, he had neither a mental illness nor low mental health. Only at the end did he reveal why he had sought care from a psychiatrist: “My girlfriend takes Prozac and it made her more creative. I thought that if I take Prozac, that might make me creative, too, which can help me with my work.”

My goal was to diagnose and treat a mental illness. His goal was mental enhancement.

Are these two goals mutually exclusive? I don’t think so, though I want to noodle on this more.

The history of psychiatry holds these two goals in tension, too: On one end are the state psychiatric hospitals (also called asylums) where some people with severe symptoms (or not) were held (warehoused?) prior to the elimination of these institutions. On the other end are the psychoanalysts, where the typical patient was “a college-educated, upper-middle class professional who paid for service out of pocket.”

More to follow as I continue to wonder what I am doing.

  1. It was never part of The Plan to become a psychiatrist. This is part of the reason why I ask myself the perennial question, “What am I doing?”
  2. When asked, “What is your best life?”, no one responds, “I want to spend as many precious moments of my existence in hospitals and clinics.”
  3. A choice quote from the paper that highlights why I personally like clarity about where professional intervention is warranted: “Lots of things can cause people problems—poverty, vices, social injustice, stupidity—a definition of health should not end up defining these as medical problems.”
Categories
Education Lessons Public health psychiatry

Watch for the Political Abuse of Psychiatry.

The Lancet recently reported that women in Iran who disobey religious law by refusing to wear a hijab are being diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. These women subsequently “undergo psychotherapy treatment” and must provide “mental health recovery certificates”.

The article also refers to this piece, Iran sentences unveiled women to jail, washing dead bodies in a cemetery and undergoing therapy, that reports a

ruling by a third criminal court in Tehran defining not wearing the veil as “a contagious mental illness that causes sexual promiscuity.” The defendant was sentenced to two months in prison and ordered to pay for six months of psychological treatment.”

(It’s unclear what “psychotherapy / psychological treatment” means. This is likely intentional.)

Do women in Iran who refuse to wear a head covering truly have antisocial personality disorder?

Here are the primary DSM-5 criteria, which are similar to the criteria in ICD-10:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

  1. Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest.
  2. Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure.
  3. Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.
  4. Irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults.
  5. Reckless disregard for safety of self or others.
  6. Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations.
  7. Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another.

The key here is disregard for and violation of the rights of others. I am unfamiliar with Iranian religious law, though it is hard to understand how a woman who is not wearing a head covering is disregarding and violating the rights of others. Is the argument that the hair of women impinges on the rights of men? What freedoms are taken from men when they see women’s hair? What freedoms are returned to them when women’s heads are covered?

However, it’s also not hard to see how one can twist the criteria for women to receive a diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder:

Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest. Women are required to wear a hijab by law. Women who don’t cover their heads are breaking social norms and the law.

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead. Wearing a hijab requires planning. Only someone who is impulsive or short-sighted would forget to wear a hijab when going out.

Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations. A responsible woman would consistently wear hijab.

Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another. Women who refuse to wear a hijab are unapologetic about their behavior. They clearly don’t care about the disrespect they are showing to religious law.

That’s four criteria when only three are required. Though it’s still unclear whose rights are being violated, the twisting of criteria is easy to do to distract from the intentional distortion of context.

The Lancet article correctly notes that the “diagnosis” of women who refuse to wear hijabs and their subsequent “treatment” is political abuse of psychiatry. One of the authors, Robert van Voren, has written other articles on this topic, including Political Abuse of Psychiatry—An [sic] Historical Overview, where he teaches us that the Soviet Union was a major culprit:

Socialist ideology is focused on the establishment of the ideal society, where all are equal and all will be happy, and thus, those who are against must be mad. … The political abuse of psychiatry in the Soviet Union originated from the concept that persons who opposed the Soviet regime were mentally ill because there was no other logical explanation why one would oppose the best sociopolitical system in the world.

In a separate article, Ending political abuse of psychiatry: where we are at and what needs to be done, van Voren argues that regimes abuse psychiatry because “in most cases it is a combination of expedience and ideology.” He goes on to note:

Sending people to a psychiatric institution is particularly practical because hospitalisation has no end and thus, if need be, people can be locked away forever, or as long as they continue to have views that are considered politically or socially dangerous, or remain inconvenient to the authorities. … At the same time, declaring a person mentally ill provides a perfect opportunity not to have to respond to their political or religious convictions, as they are the product of an ill mind and do not have to be taken seriously.

He argues that the way to combat political abuse of psychiatry is similar to combating misinformation:

stimulating communication and access, providing training in issues of medical ethics and human rights, and translating key documents and manuals into local languages may make it impossible for the public to remain uninformed.

Why am I writing about abuses of psychiatry in Iran? With increasing overt conflict between and within nations, psychiatrists and other mental health professionals should know the history (some of it recent!) of the political abuse of psychiatry. None of us are immune to persuasion and coercion. Though I hope that governments and other authorities will never ask us to use our skills to harm people, hope is not a strategy. People in power can exhibit antisocial behaviors, too. Democracy may decrease the likelihood that psychiatrists will succumb to political pressure, though psychiatrists are still people. Most people avoid conflict, respond to incentives, and do not want their status to drop. Psychiatrists are not morally invincible.

The public also needs to know this history. (I recognize I am but a tiny fish in the ocean that is the internet. I appreciate that anyone is willing to give the gift of attention to my writing here.) If psychiatrists and other mental health professionals start “treating” people whose only symptom is having an opinion that diverges from the government’s perspective and propaganda, we need the public to call this out.

Hospitals have better food, softer linens, and more space than jail, but both places can restrict your movements and prevent you from leaving. Psychotherapy can be harmful and punishing. The stigma of mental illness and treatment, while decreased over the past few years due to the pandemic, persists and can be used to reject and dismiss people.

Civil disobedience doesn’t disregard and violate the rights of others.

Categories
Education Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry Systems

What I Talked About: Complexities.

Many thanks to those of you who left comments or sent me a note in response to my call for suggestions for a presentation about homelessness and mental illness.

I gave the presentation earlier this week and ended up presenting (a) homelessness data specific to Seattle-King County, (b) general data in in published research about rates of different psychiatric conditions in people experiencing homelessness (there’s actually not a lot of data about this; my understanding is that there is a national study underway right now to assess people experiencing homelessness through structured psychiatric interviews), and (c) the topic of “Involuntarily Removing Mentally Ill People from Streets“. I asked the group—students within various health professions schools—for their thoughts about New York City’s plan.

Many of the students were unfamiliar with involuntary detention for psychiatric reasons, along with the process for how that happens (the laws in Washington State differ from those in most other states in the nation; namely, physicians and other mental health professionals in Washington State cannot detain people directly; we must call a third party, called Designated Crisis Responders, and refer someone for detention). The initial group consensus favored civil liberties; they spoke of loss of dignity, the psychological and physical trauma that can result from involuntary detention, and the importance of autonomy.

When the scenario was adjusted so that the person who was experiencing homelessness and major psychiatric symptoms was someone that the students knew and loved, they quickly changed their arguments to support involuntary detention. When we love someone, we are more comfortable taking away their rights.

Like many complex issues, “right” answers escape us as more facets of the problem are illuminated. Involuntary detention itself is a complicated issue and, because most people are not experiencing homelessness, the majority of people who are detained are people who have an indoor place they call home.

Some research indicates that around 76% of people experiencing homelessness also have a psychiatric disorder, though the association is complex and likely goes in both directions: Some people have a psychiatric condition that contributes to poverty and then homelessness (e.g., losing a job); others become homeless and then develop a psychiatric condition due to the challenges of not knowing where you will sleep at night.

I continue to learn the complexities of working at the intersections of poverty and mental health. I am grateful that more people are interested in this work, too. I hope that things don’t have to get worse before we can offer better help and care to these individuals, who are ultimately our neighbors.