I completed a mental health and addictions practicum in six weeks, just prior to graduation. My mentor was a mental health worker and mobile medication monitor. We travelled from site to site, observing clients as they ingested medications prescribed for treatment.
We ran a coffee house that encouraged residents to leave the privacy of their rooms and check in with us daily. In the end, how much did I learn? Did it have a positive influence?
The first week was hard. A client with schizophrenia blew up in response to my presence. She believed I was a doctor sporting my nametag and clipboard in tow, evaluating her. It was a novice mistake that I learned never to repeat.
Still rattled by the other encounter, another client taunted me with more difficult question.
She bluntly asked me, “How are you supposed to help me if you can’t tell me what your mental illness is?”
Instead of reflecting the question back to her, I divulged personal points about myself. “We don’t talk about [mental illness] in my culture, but if you must know, I have struggled with depression,” I told her. To my surprise, she gleaned only one important bit of information and ignored the rest. Acknowledgement of my own heritage was a sincere gesture of acceptance of her aboriginal ancestry.
What did I really learn? Listen, don’t solve. When you think you are done listening, then listen some more.
As your recently elected Students with (dis)Abilities Director at Camosun, please contact me at swd@camosunstudent.org if you have any questions or an idea for an event.