Working in retail allows you more social observation than most people think. You meet all kinds of people from all walks of life. And occasionally you meet people who life has screwed over drastically, people in need of help. I’ve seen people stay in the shops I’ve worked at for hours, pretending to look, just because they’ve got nowhere else to go. I’ve had conversations with people who have nothing to say but just want to have someone else talking to them. And I’ve seen people who seem to have hit bottom and I have no idea how to help them.
I work in a shop that sells jewellery and ornaments from Asia. When I went into work today, my boss immediately told me a story. A man had come in a few hours earlier, in a state. He was crying and babbling and apparently trying to pray to our wooden statues of Buddha. When approached, he flinched away from the staff and kept trying to pray. He then proceeded to remove all of his clothes and then started hitting his head against the floor hard enough to draw blood. At this, my colleagues called an ambulance and then the police who came and took him away. I was shocked, to say the least. In five years of working in shops, I had never heard of or been witness to any behaviour as extreme as this before. But then I heard about the public’s reaction to this man and it was enough to make my blood run cold.
Apparently, people stopped to stare, laughed, pointed. One man even tried to take a picture (!!!). For the rest of the day, we had people coming in, asking after the guy, often sniggering. A few people tried to make jokes which were met with glares from all of us. Eventually it stopped but it got me thinking: We’re in serious trouble.
“This is the way, I suppose, that the world will be destroyed – amid the universal hilarity of wits and wags who think it is all a joke.” – Soren Kierkegaard.
That is one of my favourite quotes because of how true it is. And when it comes to mental illness, it’s so true it’s painful. I remember the night I broke my hand. I was lower than I’d ever been before in my life. I smacked my fist straight into a wall and then fell to the floor crying in the middle of a city centre on a Friday night. I remember laughter, jeers, taunts. I was totally lost, panicking and alone. If it hadn’t been for a great guy who came along and helped me up, I’d have probably stayed there all night, watching people walk past, laughing. “Cheer up, love, it might never happen!” And then subsequently, all the doctor’s appointments… “So how did you do it? A wall? Well, that wasn’t very clever was it! Ha ha.”
At that time I was in the middle of a depressive episode. The man in my shop earlier today was obviously not well. I don’t know what happened to him. I hope he eventually gets the help he needs, but something tells me his future isn’t good while things are the way they are. Back in Jacobean times, it used to be common practice to go to the local asylum of a weekend and pay to laugh at the freaks. As far as I’m concerned, we might as well do the same today. As far as dealing with mental illness goes, there is no greater test of public opinion than the sort of event which puts someone in the spotlight and today, while people hid their grins behind their hands, I felt like crying. We’re so far behind where we need to be.
This story is really sad. I cannot see why people immediately assumed the guy was crazy. It’s not unheard of for some people to physically punish themselves when asking something from a deity (I’d say it used to be quite common). He might have been in a truly desperate situation. And that could happen to ANYONE. Who can guarantee that one will/could never go mad? Those who laughed really believed it. That the “mad people” are “others”, never them.
Poor bastard. Just poor bastard.
That’s really sad.
I can only (hope to) imagine that the laughter was to mask fear. Most prejudice stems from fear i think, especially fear of the unknown or (in cases like this) it happening to them.
To balance out – i doubt you remember but ages and ages ago you spoke to me about going to uni, recommending i did it. I have done it – i’ve just finished my first term! I’ve been too ill to function so i won’t pass this year, but i’m pleased i’m there anyway. Anyway, i’ve found a major source of support at the uni from the mental health advisor (a former psych nurse), and talking to my dad yesterday i found out that back when he was at uni the stigma about mental health was so bad that there wasn’t support like that back then. And that gives me hope – if we’ve come so far in the past 30 years, then imagine what can happen in the next 30..
The problem is of course he picked a retail shop and not a church or other religious place to do it. Seems odd to me perhaps he had nowhere to go decided hell I need a days food and a place to stay so picked your shop, I’ve seen it before.