The Hardest Part

Today was a doubleheader. Some of my former employees at a mental health clinic called to ask about something. I haven’t worked there since I arranged its acquisition over two years ago by a much larger organization. I discussed what they wanted to but had to ask why they were coming to me instead of their home office.

The answer was nebulous; unclear in a way that indicated they really didn’t want to get specific. I could read between the lines, but there’s room for error in that. However, I thought I knew.

The second call made me think I was right. By coincidence, it was from Russ, a patient of the same clinic. It hadn’t been unusual for him to call when I ran the clinic. Or, others like him. Certain mental defects cause people to see conspiracies, plots, slights, etc, in almost anything. And, always being frothing at the mouth and on a rant goes hand-in-hand with that. Convinced they were being victimized by the employees, they demand to go straight to the top with their issues.

That would be me. I didn’t have to see them or take their calls, but it made it easier on everyone. Except, if they were armed, and then it was a bit stressful on me.

I always kind of enjoyed this guy. He’s a college professor and no idiot. It amused me that he would always preface his complaint with, “Look, I understand I’m a lunatic, but hear me out.” I’d hear him out.

He called me a few times after I left, but I hadn’t heard from him in a long time. When he called this time, I had to interrupt. “Why are you telling me this? You know I don’t work there anymore and must realize I can’t do anything about it.”

There was a long silence and I thought Russ might’ve hung up. Finally, in a quiet voice he asked, “Do you know what the hardest part of being mentally ill is?” It was a rhetorical question. “Everyone ignores you.”

That’s also why I think I received the first call. The new home office doesn’t listen to them. That may be the hardest part for anyone.

Addendum: Someone already pointed out that if Russ was complaining to me about the service he was getting at the clinic, he did have a therapist and, therefore, someone listening to him. And, what about family and friends?

While he did have a therapist, he looked at it as she was paid not to ignore him. Russ differentiated between that and me taking his calls.

He applied a similar standard to family. Some had to abide by virtue of the living arrangement. The rest maintained some distance.

He had very few friends, partly by his own doing. He surmised that those who surrounded him were fellow pariahs and it depressed him to see himself reflected in that group, so he cut off contact. He was still largely rejected and ignored by normal people, like others of his ilk, which is what he means by the hardest part.