So Many Masks We Make: Transient Relationships at Mental Hospitals

We are in a psych hospital. I had just arrived and already the boy was trying to sell me his handmade jewelry. I thought nothing of it. I had been to a place like this many times before. I didn’t want to be rude so I told him I would like one of his necklaces. I had nothing. No money, pockets, or shoelaces. Just a shirt and uncomfortable hospital bottoms.

I saw this kid throughout my stay. He seemed so out of place and much younger. I felt bad for him. But I tried my best to be nice to him. I knew the look on his face. I’ve seen it in the mirror. Lost and angry, hurt, and frustrated. The hospital offered expressive therapy or art therapy. I chose art therapy and decided to make this kid a necklace. It was simple because I had never made one before. I ended up seeing him later that evening. I handed him the necklace I had made. He smiled and said “thanks”. He then handed me over one of his intricate pieces. I was touched by the gesture. Staying in a mental hospital is a revolving door of patients staying, 1, 3, 5, 10 days on average. I never had the opportunity to say goodbye to him. I didn’t even know his name, yet I think about him often, hoping that he is alright. Such is the life of a patient in a psych facility. 

I met the former Mayor of Newark (New Jersey). He was dressed to the nines while I was dressed in street clothes. But I noticed something, behind the perfect dress he seemed distressed. 

Again, I was in a mental hospital. Another patient had just arrived. I told him the food here is “awful.” He told me, “The food is tepid, but the rent is cheap.” That line has stayed with me for more than a decade. One morning I walked past his room. Hanging on the door was a piece of white paper with the text, “Endangered species” “Don’t Enter.” He didn’t stay long, maybe a day or so. But we had a connection. We were both born in New Jersey and like me, like so many patients, he was misunderstood. I did not understand the paper hanging on his door. How could a stranger understand his story? How could anyone understand mine? Like the kid that “sold” me jewelry. I think of this older man quite often. I joke about it. We were friends if only for a day or two. It is strange, but sometimes I miss his friendship. When you’ve been to a mental hospital more than once you learn to accept the transient relationships that you will make. I have made many. I have forgotten their names, but their stories will forever be mine.

I was never a “deadhead.” We became our own core group. There was Tony, our de facto leader and then there were two girls and me. We were all of Italian descent. We loved music and journaling. 

After years of isolation, I felt like I had met people that I would like to see out in the real world. Both girls left earlier than Tony and me. When we were all present, we gave each other a hug, exchanged numbers and emails. Once I left, I sent them emails, but I received no response. I expected it and knew when we gave each other a hug that was it. No more jokes. No more connection. This has always been the way in a mental hospital. It was best that I accept that reality and move on. 

When in a psychiatric hospital patients are at their most vulnerable point. Everyone knows everyone’s business. There is rarely one on one therapy at a mental health hospital. Therapy is almost always a group endeavor. One such group was facilitated not by a therapist, but one of the assistants named Walter, who volunteered his time because he saw a need for services on the weekends, which unfortunately were not a priority. Weekends are the worst time to be at any hospital. Nothing is done or gets done. Walter spoke about how we live our lives wearing a mask. Walter made it memorable with his imposing stature, but he was soft spoken and earned the respect of staff and patients alike. I might never see Walter again and I miss my friends from the clinic. We may never run into each other again but what matters most is that we’ve crossed paths, and we are forever linked, vulnerabilities and all.