“The word that seems the most treacherous to me is not the word ‘mad’, […] the word I dread is mentally ill, ”said Michel Foucault.
Yes, it is impossible to speak of “madness”, of this schism which persists between the normal and the pathological, without evoking the adored / hated philosopher Michel Foucault. Whether or not we agree with his thinking, we cannot deny the immense kick in the anthill that he will have delivered to a society which had no desire to consider the possible abuses of institutional medical power. In the expression “mentally ill” he saw a continuation, an accentuation, but “disguised”, of this rupture of the dialogue between the two ends of what turns out in fact to be a continuum between the “reasonable” and the “unreasonable”. “.
Today, in what state is our dialogue with those for whom the world has become fragments? Of course, we have removed from our vocabulary the word “internment” to replace it by “hospitalization”, which, let us say it, can radically depart, in experience, from its etymological root. hospistali (which refers to hospitality). A stay in psychiatry is rarely told as an experience where hospitality was at the forefront. It is not the role, shall we say, of this place where all the ends of the world end, of this “last line” which is also a first as much as an after-last. We are aiming for recovery, obviously, with means which, like everywhere else in this system which is crumbling before our eyes, are largely insufficient.
But can we do better? Therein lies the question, it seems to me. Between awareness-raising campaigns always centered on individual responsibility (let’s think of the one that involves self-portraits, then filters to slip on our profile photos, like a symbolic mise en abyme of this close-up on the individual) and always pressure more on caregivers, caregivers and community organizations, where are the places of hope? What place do we give to those who, because they frighten us, escape us, still experience a sort of “banishment from the village” version 2021?
Nicolas writes: “I now have a reputation as a disturbed person. Social networks do not help contain the violent tango of my heart… I am now 27 years old. Will the haze dissipate? I know myself. I know what my dangerous circuits are. The responsibility is in my hands. If I live to be 80, it’s thanks to me. If I die from suicide, it’s my fault! It is also somewhat the fault of the collapse of the public health and social services system. Indeed, I lost my place in psychiatry although I call Suicide Action Montreal every month. “
What lucidity, right? I recognize there the speech of those who return from afar. They have this tendency to throw powerful beams of light on our blind spots.
And there are many shadows on the side of the highways that we value in broad daylight.
“I am just one voice among many. We must be hordes of mothers to fear the worst and to keep hope for a happy ending, ”writes this mother.
But this border between the “mad” and the “healthy”, as we know, is made only of grains of sand as volatile as they are unpredictable.
We may think it solid, this scaffolding of oneself that we present to the face of the world to cross it, it can sometimes stumble in a hinge of time, a trauma, a loss or a childhood reminiscence, then collapse. .
Nicolas, this mother and so many of your brothers, sisters, children or lovers, it is us too.
“Only a handful of genes, atoms and experiences distinguish us from one another,” recalls psychiatrist and poet Ouanessa Younsi, speaking of her patient, the one who sits on the other chair, in the still relevant To care for, to love.
Is there hope there?
In all these caregivers, these caregivers (of whom you are), these “survivors” (of whom you are also), these art therapists not sufficiently recognized, these underpaid community workers, all these walls carrying our collapses, which continue to heal by never forgetting love?
How long will they hold out?
Call for stories
Tell me about your loved ones who live somewhere in the mists, but also about you, your collapses, your reconstructions and all those who care with loving care.