I am a big believer in mental health.

As a matter of fact, I am SMI disabled myself. And some people might say that makes me unfit to be a clinician. Maybe they’re right.

Maybe it’s not reasonable to expect the world to see my skills as a therapist as a result of my lived experience. Often clients thought I wasn’t skilled based on my age alone but not my demonstrated ability – when they honored me with the chance.

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe I am going to get sick and the doctor might medically discriminate against me. A femme with anxiety gets cast aside every time – despite me knowing pharmacological reactions and wanting to give the doctors the best shot at not hurting me.

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe I am going to meet a bunch of people who see that I look like a bubbly little elementary school teacher and discredit my intelligence. A young adult taking on the injustices of the addictions population and how they’re treated is a lot.

But what if they’re wrong?

See I had a therapist once tell me something really quite dumb about her understanding of me – “you don’t need to prove yourself to clients”.

It was so simple.

Because she was wrong about it. Mental health clinicians are not supposed to expect their clients to trust them or believe them or even want them. That’s not good therapy. And to say that to an SMI disabled femme was obnoxious.

I’ve always fought for myself.

Once I attended a school where the professors had to tell me to my face “I think you would be happier in a different program,” and that was after a couple of semesters of systemic problems against disability and proper educational representation.

I shared a story on this blog about the clinical bosses who showed me how to stand up for myself and backed me up (not always, but sometimes). This led to a healthy sense of self.

Even when it’s hard, I want to tell tales about the rough moments and the conflicts. Because life isn’t perfect and being a clinical professional doesn’t mean my life is going to be any easier.

Fighting for myself is complicated.

The truth is, I have had to prove myself so many times across so many systems. I don’t like institutional mental health treatment. I think it’s destructive for me. I know it can help. It just doesn’t help me – it’s scary and traumatic.

When I was victim blamed and arrested, it was of my own free will.

Let’s not mince words here.

The police asked if I needed medical attention.

I may have kind of understood it as like “Are you hurt?” But I innately understand that medical attention means the hospital. And the hospital in a mental heath crisis means involuntary inpatient.

For those who don’t understand how SMI disabled I am – when I went voluntary inpatient it took five days of phone calls to get me to be able to access the “leaving AMA” paperwork. Only then did I sign it after a stern pleading to stay.

So I mean… no thank you.

I remember the police were about to leave me alone before throwing a fit at me that “Well we’ve been here before, so we’re required to arrest someone.”

I kind of wanted to throw a mental health fit (all over again) – but I didn’t want to have someone else decide for me how long to keep me in a hospital.

Jail was way less traumatic than a psych ward.

I stand firm.

I don’t know if that’s just me.

But honestly – not saying I’d do it again, but I’m not saying it’s off the table as an option, either.

Maybe I’ll just shut up more next time. (Explaining clinical language to police may be a win in my trauma journey but was not the legal win I expected it to be. What a waste of training.)

So I got summoned to court ordered treatment (COT) (because G-d forbid we allow freedom of choice in the American legal system). And the takes on it are spicy at best and flaming dumpster fires at worst. But they’re all very good.

But I’d say it was the smartest move I made.

See, the COT people are not allowed to diagnose anyone they see. They are not allowed to tell you what your underlying condition is. It’s kind of like being subjected to a random book club – but the book is bad methods and descriptions of behaving and the author is the corrupt court system.

See, in a hospital, you can’t fight them on a diagnosis. That’s kind of their one function – to diagnose you and make you a patient under which the diagnosis consumes you. The long standing medical record associated needs to be examined.

The truth is, I have had to fight to be seen as equal to others, and while I can’t say that I agree that you victim blame people in mental health crises or coerce confessions out of them…

I do stand firm that the COT is way more manageable than an inpatient stay.

I picked my battle.

My mental health advocacy knows no bounds. And maybe that’s a good thing, honestly.

Because I didn’t do anything to protect anyone or anything like that. It was that I was in between going to a hospital or not, and hospitals scare me to complete death. But apparently police do so, more.

Until I figure that one out, I’m not dealing with the legal realm anytime soon.

I’m sticking to my lane, which is the educational and clinical realm… whatever that means!

XOXO,

Dorothy B