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Naked

This is difficult to write about. Because I’ve been there…

Yesterday, I ran a few errands. After I stopped in the middle of the road for a pedestrian to cross the street I saw a couple of police cars stop ahead of me. Nothing seemed out the norm in spite of the blue lights. And then I turned the corner at the traffic light. As I turned I saw a naked woman sitting on the stones off the side walk. She looked familiar. She had done this before about a month ago, because I frequent the area and saw her before. Now I know why the police were there. 

Immediately, a wide range of emotions overwhelmed me—for the woman, the bystanders, but also for myself, because I’ve been there.

When I was not present, time did not exist, nor did the understanding of consequences for my actions. I was simply just there. Others say I stared off into the distance for what seemed like hours or laid in bed for days. I did not know my mind was deteriorating, my understanding was fading, and my reality was flawed. I experienced psychosis and also catatonia.

It hurt to see the woman in the street in a poor state of mind. She would be the talk of the day of the bystanders who would not understand. Where was her family? Did they give up on her without understanding, and ostracize her? 

When I headed back an ambulance arrived. It bothers me whenever the states’ budget for behavioral health services are at risk and reduced. Likewise, I hope the budget for these services are not cut for the state of Georgia for the year of 2021.

I do not fear being in a poor state of mind again, however, I dread the aftermath of waking up to reality. The reality that I was not well. The reality that I acted bizarrely. The reality that I had no knowledge, shame, and clear intent of my actions. 

Naked. It is a clear demonstration of lack of treatment. How can governments tolerate ongoing budget cuts when people like you and me are suffering or enduring significant stigma, symptoms, and shame. There is no shame in having a diagnosis, but there is shame in being a part of the problem. Stigma, budget cuts, and ignorance—these are shameful acts that must stop for our well-being. 

I do not know that woman’s story, but mine alone creates empathy for her and her family. I am grateful to have access to treatment. I am grateful for peer support. I am grateful for my family. Lastly, I am grateful for my life and recovery experience that had its highs and lows, but in the end I am a survivor of mental illness.  

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