How I Became, and Unbecame, a Psych Patient
Early on, I was about 13, hormones kicking in, when family issue upon family issue invaded without knocking, slinking around the corners, under the rug, behind furniture in the secrecy of things we all know about, but we don’t talk about. I was on the edge of entering adulthood, desperately needing guidance that was lacking, so I set out to fill my own aching void. It was the 1970’s, with the popularity of Sybil, the drama of a young woman with multiple personalities embraced into integrating by such a caring psychiatrist, and Lisa and David, disturbed young people so attentively observed in some ward, and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, a tempting tale of a woman grasped from the bizarre world of schizophrenia. These portrayals resonated with me as so much better than my life as a quiet good girl, ignored in the shadows. I desired that attention I’d never get, not in the midst of generational and current family trauma, and I was compelled to read and watch these stories over an