Revisiting Normalcy: Learning about Humanity in a Psychiatric Hospital
Robin B. Zeiger, Ph.D.
Sometimes we learn deeply meaningful messages of life in the most unexpected places.Many moons ago, “Jenny” (not her real name), a patient on the psychotic adolescent unit taught me lessons in humanity and humility.
Over forty years ago, I spent one of my most formative years as a doctoral psychology intern at Camarillo State Hospital. There was nothing simple about entering the locked wards of the State Hospital for the first time. As the keeper of the keys, I felt privileged and frightened all at the same time, longing to understand what makes one person sane and another quite psychotic. It was very easy to distance oneself and judge the strange mannerisms of the patients.
I met Jenny for the first time on my rotation on the psychotic adolescent unit under the tutelage of Hank Marshall, a wise, warm, and very human supervisor. Hank’s most important lesson was not to judge, rather to build trust and relationship. He was an excellent role model in this regard, beloved by the teens.
Jenny, like so many of the psychotic teens, was riddled with problems of the past, that included auditory hallucinations of her deceased mother telling her what to do. Initially unable to communicate her problems verbally, she often engaged in strange, ritualized behavior. With Hank’s encouragement, I learned to build relationship in any way possible (taking walks, playing games, eating together).
Because of the intensity and frequency of our work, I developed a very close relationship with her. She found a permanent spot in my heart. Like so many of the patients at the State Hospital, she did not have any contact with family members or any visitors. This was very sad. Therefore, it was easy to feel motherly.
Perhaps because she was one of my first serious patients, I remember many things with incredible clarity. Upon reflection over the years, I am sure that Jenny taught me much more than I taught her.
The lesson that most stands out in my mind is a curious one. The State hospital was located at the outskirts of a small town and if a patient was stable enough, we were allowed to take them to town for ice cream. Jenny and I periodically indulged in the treat.
At that time, many of the medications for psychosis had severe side effects. Thus, it was obvious Jenny, and I were visiting from Camarillo. Jenny always greeted everyone on the street and in the stores with a smile, a wave, or a hello. This behavior seemed very odd and off to me, highlighting her residency at the State Hospital. Sometimes, I felt a bit embarrassed. After all normal people did not act in this way. I had grown up in the big city of Chicago, a place where we would never greet strangers on the street.
“Fast forward.” I moved to Richmond, Virginia, a smaller city in the south. I learned the meaning of southern hospitality that included strangers routinely greeting each other on the streets.
I began to feel guilty over my judgmental attitude towards Jenny. I revisited my definition of normalcy. I decided in this case, I was the crazy one, estranged by big city life. The lesson of humanity remained. Over the years, I have become increasingly fascinated and much more accepting of the diversity of culture. . I now remind myself not to assume my way is the only way.
Forty years ago, Jenny entered my heart and never left me. Deep work of the soul is often like that, and therefore I am grateful every day for the profession that has chosen me. I must have sensed the lasting power of our work and I requested permission from Jenny to write about her one day. Sometimes I wonder what happened to Jenny. I think my writing about her is my way of apologizing for pre-conceived notions. I hope wherever she is, she is still smiling and greeting the world.
Please follow me and discover additional articles on my year at the state hospital , mindfulness, finding peace in difficult times, Jung, longing and the Little Prince, Black Lives Matter, Amanda Gorman’s poetry and childhood nostalgia such as lighthouses and ice-cream trucks. One of my favorites is Dark Feet & Dark Wings: Wendell Berry’s Wisdom for Difficult Times.
Robin B. Zeiger is a practicing Jungian psychoanalyst, a certified Sandplay therapist, and a free-lance writer.
She is a member of the:
International Association of Analytical Psychology the Israel Institute of Jungian Psychology and president of the Israel Therapists Sandplay Association. She can be reached at rbzeiger@yahoo.com.
