Category: Reading

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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
Homelessness Reading

Down and Out, On the Road.

It took me a couple of months, but I finally got through Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History (first mentioned in this post). Here are the main points I took from the book:

“Down and Out” refers to people who live in impoverished urban areas. More specifically, people who live on “skid row” are “down and out”. (The term “skid row” likely originated in Seattle. As noted in both the Underground Tour and Beneath the Streets Tour in the Pioneer Square neighborhood, tree logs cut from the hills were pushed down Yesler Way towards the waterfront. Logs skidding down Yesler Way led to the name “skid row”.) These days, “skid row” typically refers to centers of poverty in cities where homeless people often reside. This is paired with…

“On the Road” refers to people who were homeless and, in trying to search for work, rode the trains. They often did not ride in the train, but rather on or under the train. These same individuals might reside in “down and out” areas upon arriving in a city. During the 1800s, people who were homeless were often associated with riding the rails than living in skid rows.

The term “the jungle” has been used to describe homeless encampments for nearly 200 years. In recent years here in Seattle, “the jungle” has referred specifically to a large encampment tucked under many trees in an undeveloped area near Interstate 5. This “jungle” was also notorious in the local press for violence (and was subsequently razed, though it seems that there are evergreen efforts to revive it). Over the past 200 years, people who had no place to live set up camp in forested areas (“jungles”) outside of urban centers, which developed into communities.

Cycles of romanticizing and vilifying homeless people are not new. People with no place to live are poor. Because the working class recognized how similar their struggles were with people who were homeless, they were (and continue to be) consistently more sympathetic, empathetic, and generous to them. Other classes, though, have swung between perceptions that people who are homeless are harmless—perhaps even charming (see Norman Rockwell) to lazy, deviant, and dangerous. (Other indicators include The Way It Is and Mr. Wendal, both excellent songs.)

Homelessness is a consequence of poverty. When I first received the book, I confess that I was dismayed to see in the index that “mental illness” is mentioned on only four pages of this ~250 page text. Kusmer, the author, provides a compelling historical account that various systems, including government policy (or lack thereof), economic forces, and cultural values are the chief drivers that lead to people becoming poor. Poverty is a major risk factor for homelessness. (I know this from my own anecdotal experience: Most people who are homeless do not have a severe psychiatric illness like schizophrenia. People often develop psychiatric symptoms because of homelessness. Even if every single psychiatrist in the nation worked with people who are homeless, homelessness would persist: There are plenty of people who are unhoused who do not need psychiatric treatment. They need a place to live and ways to have money to pay for living expenses.)

There was a federal program to address homelessness! Homelessness has been and continues to be a nationwide problem (regardless of the size of the US throughout time) that requires a federal response. The Federal Transient Service (FTS) was the first (and only?) federal agency in US history whose goal was to aid people who were homeless and unemployed. It started in 1933 and only lasted two years, in part because it seemed “successful”: The number of homeless people dropped, so everyone thought the problem of homelessness was solved. FTS funds were swept to support public works and Social Security. (In theory, public works and Social Security seemed like better investments to prevent homelessness.)

The disproportionate number of homeless people who are Black is not new. This is another legacy of slavery. A number of minority populations (e.g., Native Americans, Mexicans, women) suffer from homelessness because of policies and practices related to economic and class exclusion.

Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History was published in 2002. My sense is that the author, when viewing the current state of homelessness in the US, would continue to argue that the forces that contribute to poverty remain the primary driver of homelessness. I think he would continue to view mental illness and substance use as distractions and not significant causes of homelessness. (To be clear, I don’t think he’s discounting psychiatric conditions as contributors to homelessness for specific individuals, particularly since psychiatric conditions, both directly and indirectly, can pull people into poverty.) I appreciate how he ends the text:

The compulsion to stereotype the homeless as dependent and deviant turns the poorest Americans into an abstract “other,” separate and inferior from everyone else. Although their problems are more severe, however, destitute people living on the streets and in homeless shelters are not so different from the rest of us. They never have been. Any genuine effort to end homelessness must begin with a recognition of that essential truth.

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Homelessness Reading Reflection

Words and Sounds.

The reason behind my recent silence here is I am attending to a beloved family member whose health continues to deteriorate. Surely other medical professionals have written about the difficulties of our roles and responsibilities: We are not (and should not be!) doctors or nurses for the ones we love, though it is difficult to push the professional knowledge out of our minds. Sometimes (often?) it doesn’t feel like love is enough, even as we realize that our professional knowledge isn’t enough, either.

I have spent most of my career working with people experiencing homelessness. I don’t recall newspapers and other media writing about this topic as much as they do now:

Homelessness is a federal problem. Was there ever a time when the feds tried to solve the problem of people having no place to live? What is the history of homelessness in the US?

Well, there’s actually a FREE, short paper (it’s an appendix!) from a long report about permanent supportive housing with the title “The History of Homelessness in the United States“. That article led me to the book Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History. I’m about 80 pages in and, so far, it’s not encouraging. The arguments and opinions about homelessness from 100 and 200 years ago are similar to what we hear now in 2023 (deserving vs. undeserving poor, work tests, etc.). I’m hoping the author will describe the intersections of homelessness (“vagrancy”) and health, including substance use (alcohol? opium?) and mental illness.

If this problem were easy to solve, we would have already solved it… right?

The inimitable Ed Yong is leaving The Atlantic! His stellar writing about Covid over the past three years were invaluable to me: Not only did he provide meaningful analysis about how Covid was affecting individuals and populations, but he also accurately captured the horror of what was happening.

In his recent newsletter, he shared the following:

… I want to double down on my journalistic values: not only describing what is happening but helping people actually make sense of it; bearing witness to suffering; speaking truth to power; revealing wonder in the obscure; and pushing for a more just and equitable world.

He has succeeded in adhering to his values (and received a well-deserved Pulitzer along the way). This has prompted me to consider what values I hold in my writing. (Are the values I hold in my professional role transferrable to my writing? Is writing part of my professional role? Why am I mincing my life into roles when they are interconnected, as per the first paragraph of this post?)

Let’s end this post with some lighter fare:

  • 15 Relaxing Mario Jazz Medley (just go listen)
  • If you’ve seen the Barbie movie: I know most people are fawning over the song “I’m Just Ken”, but “Push” is the underrated gem. I’ll never hear the word “granted” the same way again.

Categories
Reading Seattle

Recommendations.

Here’s a small selection of things I humbly recommend for your consideration:

The Disadvantages of an Elite Education. “Our best universities have forgotten that the reason they exist is to make minds, not careers.” (Incisive writing from William Deresiewicz, who is also the author of one of my favorite essays, Solitude and Leadership.)

Ice Merchants: A Father and Son’s Daring Cliff Dive. This is a beautiful, wordless animation that left me speechless.

Why Are These Italians Massacring Each Other With Oranges? Every winter, Ivrea erupts into a ferocious three-day festival where its citizens pelt one another with 900 tons of oranges. (Yes, oranges.) (Thoughtful, descriptive, and hilarious writing from Jon Mooallem.)

The Complete Maus: A Survivor’s Tale. I bought this book on a whim. I don’t understand why some schools have banned it—more people who read it.

E-Jae Pak Mor: These TikTok-Famous Dumplings Deserve the Hype. If you live in or around Seattle and if you like Thai food, give this place a try. (The owner and I met years ago when she was working as a cook at Turkish restaurant. E-Jae Pak Mor is her first restaurant—how thrilling it is to make your dream come true! This is Thai street food and it is delicious.)

Emmett Shear: “I’ll be 40 years old soon. I thought I’d take a look back and see how I’ve spent it….” (Includes a link to a spreadsheet so you can make your own.)

Categories
Homelessness Observations Reading

The Guest Who Has No Place to Live.

Inspired by this tweet (“This book is viscerally upsetting, lol. What the fuck”), I read The Guest by Emma Cline.

The inside flap offers an accurate description of the story: Alex makes a “misstep at a dinner party” and ends up wandering around Long Island. She has “few resources and a waterlogged phone, but [is] gifted with an ability to navigate the desires of others.” She is indeed “propelled by desperation and a mutable sense of morality” and “a cipher leaving destruction in her wake.”

And, yes, the book is viscerally upsetting.

Is the story about status and hierarchies? Yes. Is it about appearances and identity? Yes. Is it about the transactional roles young women play in American society? Yes.

Is it about a young woman who has nowhere to live? Yes: Alex is homeless.

This is not the reason why I chose to read this book. (Honestly, the only thing I knew about the book was from that tweet. We can wonder together why I wanted to read something “viscerally upsetting”).

It’s not Alex’s status as a homeless person that turns the stomach. (I don’t even know how many readers use the frame of homelessness while reading this story.) It’s the odious nature of her choices, how unsettling her behavior is. She is not endearing. (Kudos to Cline for creating a character who is unlikeable yet compelling.) We readers get caught up in the appearances of luxury and decadence that we forget that Alex is trying to find a stable place to live.

We never learn Alex’s backstory; we don’t know where she is from, what happened to her in the more distant past, or how she came to behave this way. Part of the point of the novel, I think, is that we can never know: Appearances are what matter. You can tell any story you want to get your needs met.

For readers who want to make their lives more difficult (…), this book introduces uncomfortable questions related to homelessness:

  • If a young woman is despicable, does she deserve to be homeless?
  • What do we want to happen to young women we don’t like? Do we want them to suffer? Is homelessness a sufficient punishment?
  • Do we therefore assume that all people who are homeless must have done terrible things?

Then there’s the question of redemption. The events of The Guest unfold over the course of one week. Do we think Alex could ever redeem herself? What if it takes a year? or five?

Should people who are unlikeable be homeless until they redeem themselves?

Maybe Alex is a cipher, but, more importantly, she has no place to live. That’s why she’s “propelled by desperation and a mutable sense of morality”. Perhaps we take comfort in the idea that Alex is a character, that this is a novel.

  • Would we make similar choices if we were in Alex’s situation?
  • Could we also do such unlikeable things if we were homeless?

What if the homeless young women we encounter aren’t anything like Alex? Might we want to make different choices ourselves?

(And, yes, to be clear, I do recommend The Guest.)