On Tuesday mornings I attend a clinic where a health professional is attempting to teach me how to converse with people more effectively with the hope that this will help me get over my depression. But I have a problem. As my failure to even get an interview for a job that I was well suited to recently proves beyond doubt, I am never going to be allowed to get to the position where better conversational skills will be of use. So I am now in the position of going along for counselling not for myself, as I know there is no point in doing so, but so that I do not upset those people in my life who want me to do something because if I am doing something they do not have to face up to the fact that I am right and there really is no way I am ever going to be allowed to live again.
I feel so sorry for the mental health professionals. They try their best and many of them are very good practitioners. But they know in their hearts that, as long as people with authority in the “real” world are prejudiced against and uneducated about people with mental health problems, no amount of restorative therapy will be of any real use to their clients. As people who are mentally ill are poorly, not stupid, they are also, themselves, fully aware of the futility of any attempt to become well again. I mean, what is the point? I started this present course because I allowed myself to hope that I would, sometime in the future, hopefully sooner rather than later, be invited to attend interviews for posts I would love to take up. But there is no hope for the mentally ill. In England, only about ten percent of us, of employable age, are in employment. Basically we are fucked and forgotten and there really, truly, empirically is no point in us putting any effort into rejoining the “normal” world as, let’s face it, the real world don’t want us. We are the taboo too far.