Why do I do the work that I do? It began with a childlike desire for those I believed in to believe in me. Later, I wanted people experiencing suffering as I once did to know the possibilities of connecting with the joy within. I was optimistic, thinking, “Look at what I have learned. You could do the same.” I had no idea that there are forces resistant to change. For many years, I received mental health services and accepted the “mental illness” diagnoses, which I now call labels. I knew nothing about the history of people losing their human rights. I didn’t realize that others were actively fighting against what they call the mental health system or psychiatry.
My experience was compliant. I needed help, asked for help, and was directed to psychiatric services. At twenty-three, I didn’t know what I know now. Since childhood, I have had an innate desire to share knowledge with others. Learning has helped me regain my strength, and I see how possible it is for others as well. I no longer see myself as naïve or unworldly. I understand now that there are many paths in life, and this is just a glimpse of my journey. There have been many hills, valleys, potholes, straight roads, curvy roads, and sometimes very slippery icy roads, where I’ve had to stop and find my footing.
When I consider another aspect of why I do the work I do, using information from various sources, the truth is that, at one point, I believed it was the only way to get anyone to listen. Think about the socialization of who should be heard or seen in society, then add the aspect of discussing mental health as a Black woman who once used those services. I think of the horror, but I’ve learned to laugh at my thoughts. The “mental illness” language, created with good intentions, discredited the pain and suffering of my human experience and undermined my belief in myself for a long time. The road paved for me, defined by labels for the pain and suffering I experienced, made me feel like I was trapped in hell with no way out.
Why was I so compliant? I grew up without television in Jamaica. When I first encountered television and movies, I was fascinated by technology, though I didn’t know the term then. I became curious about how it all worked, but with no one to ask, I spent many hours watching and feeling emotions for characters while neglecting my own. This had a significant influence on me. The depictions of who is worthy and who should be seen, heard, and respected often didn’t look like me. Unconsciously, I learned what society wanted me to think about myself, influenced by the ideas of Carl Linnaeus and Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, who classified people into racial categories.
Linnaeus proposed four subcategories of Homo sapiens: Americanus, Asiaticus, Africanus, and Europeanus. Blumenbach added a fifth category, resulting in Caucasian (the white race), Mongolian (the yellow race), Malayan (the brown race), Ethiopian (the black race), and American (the red race). Their classifications created a misconception that one group of people is superior to others, causing moral injury and separation into race as a concept. Dr. Joy DeGruy, in her book Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing, explains how these beliefs allowed white people to brutalize Black people during and after chattel slavery and not feel the empathy and compassion needed in humanity.
I mention Dr. DeGruy’s book with the intention of promoting her work so that more people may recognized what happened to us matters and the work and trainings that she does is powerful. However, personally, I avoid using the terms “syndrome,” “disorder,” or “post-traumatic” to describe the cruelty Black people face whether in the past or today. My perspective is that there is continuous traumatic stress in society, and we should look at systemic oppression and individuals’ life circumstances, rather than using labels, when providing services. An excellent source on this information is Dr. Paula Joan Caplan work Psychiatric Diagnosis: The First Cause of Everything Bad in the Mental Health System among others including the work at A Disorder for Everyone: Challenging the Culture of Psychiatric Diagnosis.
I know people are suffering and I could only imagine how deep the rabbit hole goes. When I hear the words “serious mental illness,” I’ve trained my mind to think of the ongoing violence and people struggling to live or sometimes giving up—in poverty, bullying, abandonment, domestic violence, workplaces, and poor education in inadequate schools—because the burden of exploitation becomes too great. I use the term “pimping” to describe workplace exploitation, where people use titles and roles to morally injure others. P stands for privilege, I for ignorance, M for money, and P for policies and procedures.
I believed societal messages through media: that titles, money, skin color, and positions determine worthiness. This belief prevented me from seeing myself as worthy. I thought that if someone with a title defined me, they knew what was right. But no external validation can suppress the truth within us. Eventually, the pain of believing others’ opinions becomes too great. We are always learning and observing beyond the stories we are told and experience.
The mental health system is deeply ingrained in our culture. New, hopeful individuals are gaining awareness through life’s ups and downs, using mental health services and advocating for change. I initially supported the “stop the stigma” movement and encouraged seeking mental health services, as that was what I had learned and promoted. However, while this message gains approval and funding, people remain stuck in poverty and unresolved emotional distress. I’ve become less naïve about the gatekeepers, but my hope for change persists. I still want to learn and share with others so they don’t spend decades waiting to live, thinking a drug or a label will save them.
I began documenting my journey about twenty years ago, intending to show the process rather than just before and after pictures of weight loss. It turned out to be a spiritual journey, which I now call soul work. Every experience brings new insights. I am currently sharing my documented work on Substack, called Just Doing the Little Things, and on my blog at www.mitzysky.com.
My work aims to provide information that people can use to advocate for themselves and others without viewing emotional distress as an illness. Distress often results from violations of our bodies and the sting of societal oppression, as I mentioned regarding socialization. Don Miguel Ruiz, in his book The Four Agreements, refers to this as the domestication of the planet. For me, this points to the spiritual journey, emphasizing the importance of focusing more on the spiritual and less on personality. Gary Zukav, in his book The Seat of the Soul, states that psychology is about the study of the spirit, but it has never been that; instead, it focuses on the five-sensory personality, which cannot heal at the soul level (paraphrasing).
What else didn’t I know? I was unaware of the spiritual journey or the concepts of spirit and soul. I am still learning and growing in this awareness because it is a lifelong journey. I didn’t know about Redlining, the Three-Fifths Compromise, colonization, Jim Crow laws, Reconstruction era, the 13th Amendment, Black Codes, Sharecropping, or the deep-rooted racism in society’s structures worldwide. I wasn’t familiar with stories like Emmett Till’s, and I didn’t understand the origins of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). Many involved in its creation have spoken out about its flaws, yet it continues to dominate society. In this talk that you can find on YouTube, Dr. James Davies author of Cracked talks about The Origins of the DSM.
I understood classism but thought that if I educated my children, everything would be fine. I didn’t realize the importance of relationships or the connections I lost with nature, my children, and myself. I didn’t see how underfunded school systems serve as pipelines to prison and mental institutions, especially for those in poverty. I believed in the American Dream and didn’t recognize how these systemic issues were stacked against me as a Black person. Now, I see it as a multi-layered system of oppression and no longer blame myself. Learning helps me to stop internalizing oppression. I am responsible for quieting my mind and finding peace. That’s why viewing psychology through a spiritual lens is crucial for my overall mental, emotional, and physical well-being.
I no longer seek external validation for peace of mind. I’m reminded of Rumi’s quote: “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” Protecting oneself from traumatic experiences leads to many thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. Gabor Maté in The Wisdom of Trauma, ask the question, “Can our deepest pain be a doorway to healing?” I heard him say and I am paraphrasing, that trauma is not what happens to us but what happens inside us. My thoughts, fears, judgments, unforgiveness, competition, condemnation, and comparison caused disconnection. Eckhart Tolle in The Power of Now, reminds us, “We are not our thoughts,” and Ram Dass advises us “to be here now,” encouraging less mental engagement in the mind of thoughts and more presence.
I was in pain, wanting a better life for my children and myself. I sought help and followed the prescribed path, as I mentioned earlier. I was compliant. Almost twenty years later, I began to question, “What is happening? Why am I still stuck? How do I get unstuck? How do I live a beautiful life? Who am I? What is my purpose? When does someone declare me well?” These questions multiplied, but I stopped relying on others for answers. I had to start doing the work of paying attention. I observed people who seemed to have a wholehearted human experience despite their struggles. They found their way and lived exceptional lives, according to their definitions. I realized that I am responsible for creating that for myself. I had people who supported me in moving away from mental health services and towards achieving my life goals. Most importantly, I embraced my creativity and understood that I must do the work.
As I edit this paper now in 2024, which I wrote two years ago, I’ve learned about casteism. I bought the book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson and look forward to reading it once I get it back from my sister. I watched the movie Origin by Ava DuVernay and participated in the play The Ubuntu Project by Rev. Ina Alisa Anderson of Emerging Voices Production. I learned about caste at a time when I was preparing to share more stories of inequality, inequity, racism, and oppression. When I read lines from the play The Ubuntu Project, I thought, “This is what I’ve been talking about but didn’t have the words for.” Now I can ask, “How can you place me in a sexist, racist, caste system of oppression, and when it breaks my spirit blame me and call me an illness?” This question for me shows my ability to be humble, practice forgiveness, stay aware and to continue learning. Ubuntu, says “I am, because we are!” The healing happens or the awareness rises in the context of sharing our stories with each other. I continue to write and share my story because shame can’t live in the light and I found the veil of shame from what happened to me kept me from living fully in the present moment.