This post is one in a series about how we separate ourselves from crazy people (an admittedly provocative label) because they frighten us, and because we wish to make clear that we are not like them. This is both inaccurate psychologically, and hurts the people we are claiming to help, as a recent mission statement by the British Psychological Association has made clear (see Part I). And our biological, genetic, and neurochemical explanations for mental disorders stand for—and exacerbate—this cultural predilection.
In the meantime, confirmation for this has come from an unusual place: The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, in an article entitled, “Effects of Biological Explanations for Mental Disorders on Clinicians’ Empathy”:
Crazy People in Everyday Life
When I used to go to the bagel shop in my small New Jersey town, I regularly encountered a talkative, boastful guy. His stories were preposterous, but amusing, if you didn’t worry about why he felt a need to inflate his claims about himself so outrageously.
Then, one day, I came into the Bagel Buffet and the same man was babbling nonsensically. He was obviously in the midst of a psychotic episode. Yet, if I listened carefully, the stories he blurted out compulsively actually resembled the exaggerated, but not insane, stories he formerly told. Like those stories, these were self-aggrandizing, only now no one could take them seriously.
This man had slipped down the continuum, out of the normal range, and into the crazy range. And, yet, he was recognizable in each of these states as the man in the other one—the themes, the style, the goals of his speaking were similar. He was the same human being, only in one case he was in extremis, in an altered state of reality. That continuity is always present, no matter how psychotic a person becomes.
This man had slipped down the continuum, out of the normal range, and into the crazy range... yet, he was recognizable in each of these states...-Stanton Peele
But there is another continuity, outlined in Part I of this series, one that we should also always keep in mind. And that is, when the man was exaggerating his importance to feel better about his life, such self-inflation is something we all at times engage in. That is, his soon-to-be-psychotic behavior was of one piece with a common human impulse: we all want and strive—sometimes dysfunctionally—to feel important and loved.
This is part of the human condition. And, at different times, we all display the duality of the dysfunction of our traits while these same traits shore up our bedrock identities.
Charles was a hard-working, honorable family man, but not a very well-adjusted one. He separated from the mother of his boy and girl quite early in their marriage. Yet he never abandoned his family, always living nearby, paying his required child support and more, attending his kids’ sports and school events, taking them eagerly on his visitation days.
When his kids grew up, Charles was even more isolated. He lived alone in a small apartment over an auto repair shop in town. His kids—who loved him—nonetheless found Charles difficult to spend time with now that he couldn’t take them miniature golfing or swimming. He was not an easy man to be or talk with.
Charles had always been prone to bursts of energy, then lethargy. Now, in his forties, he embarked on a manic splurge...-Stanton Peele
Charles had always been prone to bursts of energy, then lethargy. Now, in his forties, he embarked on a manic splurge like no one had ever seen him on before. He barely slept, running around town, making angry, frightening threats against no one in particular, but also his family and other residents of the town.
Charles’ social worker and a psychiatrist labeled these outbursts paranoid delusions. Charles felt he could count on no one, including a court-appointed attorney selected to help him through legal difficulties he created in his manic state. Nor did he cotton to the psychiatrist who was supposed to manage his mental illness—partly because she saw him as so abnormal.
His kids were likewise wary about dealing with Charles. They loved him, but it was hard for them not feel that his crazy outbursts reflected badly on them as they, too, lived in this small community. Thus they tried to make clear that they were not a part of Charles’ life. His ex-wife wasn’t inclined to help Charles out. And even Charles’ mother, always distant and self-preoccupied (she had had multiple marriages), was nowhere to be found in this, his period of need.
Charles’ manic, psychotic state was thus a natural outgrowth of his previous existence.-Stanton Peele
Charles’ manic, psychotic state was thus a natural outgrowth of his previous existence. In both his crazy state and his earlier life he felt acute alienation and expressed feelings of aloneness. In his psychotic state he gave these feelings free, unbridled expression, further alienating his relations and strangers alike. And, yet, he didn’t want to give up his manic state. Like the case of meth addiction Ilse Thompson and I begin our book Recover! with, Charles felt that his mania was essential. Yet it could only be maintained so long, and its aftermath was shocking.
And, so, we see Charles as a unitary being, his crazy and normal selves different expressions of the same essential person. It is important—for both our and Charles’ humanity, as well as for our ability to help Charles and for him to emerge from his psychosis—to recognize the integrity of this human being that is centered on Charles’ basic identity. This identity is the key to knowing and to helping Charles, the source of his problems and his route to mental health.
How to Talk to Crazy People is a three-part article series by Stanton Peele. Check back for Part III: When and How Do You Help Crazy People?
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