Tough times are ahead, but it is salutary to recall that most people keep their balance in good times and bad, writes SARAH CAREY.
IN POPULAR imagination, psychiatric hospitals are nothing other than grim lock-ups for the criminally insane or long abandoned permanent residents. Sometimes it’s not all imagination, and the Government is in the process of shutting down the worst examples of such institutions under its “Vision for Change” plan.
But Victorian misery is not the whole story. Recently I had the opportunity to visit St Patrick’s psychiatric hospital in Dublin, and discovered the nicest hospital of any kind that I’ve seen.
Clever architecture means it is bright and sunny, the decor is colourful and fresh, the rooms are modern, and the staff are warm and chatty. It might be an institution, but it doesn’t feel like one.
Elizabeth Malcolm, who wrote the history of Dean Jonathan Swift’s “house for fools and mad”, has observed that since it was founded so long ago – 1746 – the hospital’s records allow us to uncover the psychic damage of our history. For instance, admissions peaked around our various rebellions as people suffered terrible traumas other than the physical.
Violent political upheavals might be over, but economic ups and downs inflict psychic damage, too. I wonder what the records will tell us about how we fared during this crisis?
It’s reasonable to expect that our mental health will crash along with the economy, and no one would be surprised to see individuals crack under the pressure of debt and unemployment.
Recession and depression seem logically connected. But the reverse was far from true. As the economy thrived throughout the western world, mental illness soared.
It seemed so indulgent to go around getting depressed during the boom. The accepted explanation, suggested by British psychologist Oliver James among others, is that we were suffering from “affluenza”.
The money created as much anxiety as it relieved and the demand for medication and therapy rose with GNP. In a consumerist frenzy, we became individualist and judgmental, and lost sight of certain values as a sense of community collapsed.
That explanation made a lot of sense, but I always thought it fell a bit short. When you think about it, the reality is that most people are nice and never lost sight of anything.
While it’s easy to use labels such as “politicians”, “lawyers”, “auctioneers” and “bankers” as terms of abuse, I know politicians, lawyers, auctioneers and bankers – all perfectly good people – who were well able to enjoy the luxuries the money bought but who never lost perspective on what it meant.
Most of the time, money allowed us to have great fun with friends and family. There was nothing wrong with that.
If unhappiness increased alongside income, it wasn’t always because we were obsessed with material things at the expense of our souls. So what was it?
Another James, this time PD, has a theory I like. Over the Christmas, I happened to hear a replay of an RTÉ Radio 1 Arts Show interview with the genteel English crime-writer. She speculates that we never forgot what was important. Our problem was that we couldn’t forget.
She suggested that while our parents were poor, their experiences were collective. While our generation enjoyed good times, thanks to mass media we bear daily witness to appalling human suffering. From Africa to Gaza, we can’t escape close-up images and details of mass starvation and trauma.
Our parents lived through wars, but we have to watch the wars. I know I find it upsetting and often turn off the news to avoid the misery.
My husband says I need to face up to it. But what’s the point? I can’t do anything about it and I end up going to bed feeling upset, guilty and unable to enjoy our personal good fortune. For me this passes, but I can see how adding that guilt to the stress of consumption could undermine the health of a people who, by all other measures, should be happy and grateful.
So what about now? The years ahead will be rough as one by one our friends and family are credit-crunched. In a superficial way, we seem to be moving through the five stages of grief for the future we’re afraid has disappeared.
It might not be clinical, but it’s still not easy to let go of the little plans financial security allowed us to formulate. For some there might be holidays or a new house to give up; for others thoughts of another baby or retirement.
The summer was a time of denial, and the Budget brought anger.
Whenever I asked anyone how they got over the Christmas, the answer was invariably “quiet”. Was that depression? The Social Partners are furiously engaging in bargaining. Meanwhile, the rest of us have moved on to acceptance.
Most people I meet are fantastically philosophical and though we get the odd fright and feel sick, we are comforted by the prospect of interdependency. Anyone over 35 has done a recession before and we know how to knuckle down and survive.
For those who are sinking deeper into despair and depression, St Patrick’s hospital has opened four Dean Clinics around Dublin and will open one in Cork shortly. These are community-based mental health centres to which you can be referred by your GP.
The happiness bar is lower now and it’s all about survival. We know that money isn’t everything, but health, including your mental health, is.
If you think you can’t make it, make the call and get the help you need to get through this.