A few decades ago, when I was still depressed but had more energy than I do now, before my health declined to the point where I became disabled…
I had a six-month internship in a mental hospital, working to become a music therapist.
I got to see all types of patients. Schizophrenic, Depression, Bipolar, Alzheimer’s, Psychotic… everything.
I can’t go into details because of confidentiality, but I remember one moment more than anything else.
There was one day when a new patient was admitted. He was severely depressed. Very seriously severely depressed.
He didn’t even have the strength to stand up anymore.
He simply sat in a chair, slumped forward, chin-to-chest, saying nothing, acknowledging no one. It was as if his bones couldn’t even hold his body in position anymore. The mere act of breathing was probably a cumbersome full-time job.
He stayed this way for hours on end.
My supervisor tactfully directed my attention to him, and with a meaningful nod, she said, “Now THAT’S depression.” In other words, depression isn’t some simple blue mood that just goes away if we try to think cheerful thoughts; it’s so much more complicated and deeper than that. It’s a dark monster that can wildly veer anywhere from numbness to the ugliest deepest hell. And the monster can be triggered by all sorts of things, leaving us either dead or figuratively paralyzed like this patient.
I understood, far more than that supervisor would ever know, because even at that point in my life I had days when I felt the same way. But of course I couldn’t admit the depth of it all because I would be jeopardizing my internship.
I felt a special kinship with these people, these poor broken souls who had either been dumped here, sent here against their will, or (in a very few cases) willingly admitted themselves. I had a different perspective from the doctors and nurses and attendants. I didn’t have dry textbook “answers” for these people, but I empathized with the hells they were going through, and the hells they had probably endured in the outside world.
And for the whole duration of my six-month internship, working dutifully as a therapist, I had to hide the fact that I secretly felt I belonged on the “other side”.
10 comments
Wow to think such depression like that really lives within someone that’s hardcore I’m barley able to deal with mine it’s hard to breath and move but it’s not noticeable you know what I mean that’s like even worse than being paralyzed my heart goes out to him this hit me hard.
It was hard to watch, and harder still to admit that I have felt the exact same way.
There’s such a complete absence of energy, you wonder how your heart could possibly still be beating.
I sort of know how that feels (studying to become a therapist myself i guess), and there’s something nice about you wanting to help them because you understand how they feel. What many of the textbook-type of therapists never realize (until they are in the situation themselves) is that textbooks are generalizations and are clearly not useful in every situation. “Labeling” someone into a disorder is also sort of useless, and many times just ends up in leading that person to sort of mold to fit better into that label (which makes matters even worse).
Music therapist sounds like an awesome thing btw. I will have to look that one up because i had no idea that existed, thanks for sharing this!
Exactly!
Imagine reading one basic car owner’s manual, then being dumped into a junkyard full of broken cars. Some are old, some are newer, some have simple fixable problems, others will never ever run again, no matter what. Then someone says “Here, your job is to fix all these cars!”
That must be what it’s like to be that “Textbook Therapist” who thinks every person falls into nice neat little categories… then finding themselves with a few dozen patients who are nothing like the textbook examples.
Great post….. I could relate to it
Thank you! 🙂
This is an interesting glimpse into your brief work experience at a mental hospital.
I’m curious to know, during your six-month internship, if you observed any profound improvement in any patient.
Also, was your music therapy beneficial to the patients?
Profound improvement? No.
Subtle improvement? Sometimes.
There was one guy they decided was “cured” enough to be released, and less than a week after he went home, he killed himself.
I was shocked to hear that. He had convinced all of us that he was going to be all right, he seemed to be doing a lot better. But in retrospect, he was just “playing the game” so his doctors would let him leave. It seems that he had the whole thing planned out.
As for the music therapy, I honestly DO think it helps, but sometimes it works in subtle ways.
Generally, the way it works is this: You figure out one thing the client/patient needs to work on, then you create music activities that help them to work on it.
For people with extremely short attention spans, simply finishing one song can help them stay focused for a few minutes longer than non-music activities.
Talking about different song lyrics can help them open up about a specific issue they wouldn’t otherwise want to talk about.
Focusing on a favorite song (or playing along with a group) can help them concentrate on something other than harmful thoughts/voices.
If they’re able to learn a new instrument, it can help with self-esteem goals.
If they’re simply able to keep a steady drum beat when other people are singing, it can be a baby-step closer to social interaction. (Knowing when to play your note also means knowing when NOT to play your note… and it can gradually translate over into conversation skills: knowing when to talk vs. knowing when to pay attention and listen).
And sometimes, being able to enjoy your favorite music simply makes the day more bearable. That in itself makes it worth it.
It’s a quality-of-life issue, I think.
Imagine how horrible it would be to be locked up in a mental hospital with all sorts of genuinely frightening people, and you had no sound except patients screaming/crying, doctors treating you like a lab specimen, and the voices in your own head. If you weren’t disturbed to start out with, you would be that way soon.
But adding music can make things a little better, a little more bearable.
There have been times I’m just as crazy as the crazy people I helped. I think it made me better at my job.
Yes! I like that. 😉
Sometimes empathy is everything.