Romance, Institutionalisation and Mental Health
by Jerome Sewell
For many of us, our love life is one of the thrills of life itself; one of the central points of our existence, as well as fulfilling one of the basic biological human functions which is to bring life into the world. The experience it brings, as well as the effects it has on how we live is felt from adolescence to old age; from childhood sweethearts in youth, spouses in adulthood and life companions in later life. For those of us who have mental health conditions it is one of those things we share in common with others who do not have illnesses; we yearn for companionship like almost all other humans. I remember sitting with a young service user who was about 19 years of age when I was in hospital and we sat there talking whilst sitting on a bench, when a family walked past us, “that’s what I want”, is what he said to me. We want to start our families, and we want relationships is probably what he meant. Despite this natural human, need many of us with mental illnesses find ourselves in positions where we cannot access this; whether it be because of hospitalisation or whether it is because we have so many problems going on that we are not in the right place to enter a relationship.
For those of us who have mental health conditions it is one of those things we share in common with others who do not have illnesses; we yearn for companionship like almost all other humans.
When I was in hospital, one of the things that made me recognise I was recovering is when that urge came back to me; like the time I was talking to a lady I met in my drama therapy session, when I asked “maybe you would like to go out for a coffee with me?” When you’re hospitalised on a male only ward, as heterosexual men you will spend time reminiscing with each other on your time with women in the community from years gone past; on beaches on Caribbean islands to club parties and penthouses, those experiences which make life worth living.
When I left hospital the first relationship I entered brought a whole new dimension into my discharged experience. It happened about a year after I came out, when I decided to reconnect with an ex-girlfriend that I went out with when I was younger. At first, we started corresponding by email and then she gave me her number so I could call her. The night sky was out, and I was in my family’s back garden when I picked up the phone, imagine it: the phone rings out and suddenly she picks up, “hello”, I could hear the sound of nervousness in her voice and ambiguity but very soon after that night we reconnected properly. On one night she called me when coming back home from a party and asked me to meet her in the early hours of the morning. When I found her waiting for me, we both couldn’t believe what was happening; years closed into the intensity of a single moment, and we embraced each other. From that night on it was a whirlwind and she truly did rock my world. When all this happened, all of a sudden a new side of life opened back up to me, as though I was a stranger to it; dates in restaurants, holding each other, breakfasts together in the morning, kisses, gestures of kindness that only those who are in some state of love can show one and other. I remember when I told her that as a child, I read a legend from Africa about a man lying in the field and he looked up into the sky and a woman came down from the stars and that is how it was when she walked back into my life (I did mean it then as well).
For me, spending years in the system meant that I had entered prison as a young adult and come out as someone heading toward my 30s and upon reflection, it is interesting to see how relationships change your priorities and plans at that stage in life. When I went into prison I had virtually no thoughts of having children and now I was with my girlfriend, making plans to get a place with her and have children at some point; she was planning on how to relocate with me to another part of London. That was probably the most striking thing; coming to terms (through the lens of a relationship) with where you are now at in life and what the future represents. “It was nice to think I would settle down” I said to my uncle one night, “ahhhh, mate” my uncle sighed over the phone after my first relationship after leaving hospital had ended. Responsibilities and encounters that are foreign to someone who went into the system in their youth and came out in maturity. When I interviewed a patient named RW, who maintained relationships when he was in hospital and outside of hospital, he told me:
‘When you’re in hospital and you’re in a relationship, it helps to take away the fact that you are in hospital; it’s like you claw back the normality from life. Outside of hospital it’s still a part of that same process of clawing back normality…It is a part of recovery. Once you get yourself to a certain level of wellness it will support you in getting back to normality because that is what normal people do: go into relationships. It gives you someone to talk to rather than a male. It’s therapeutic, that is the word I would use.’
(Former patient RW, interview, 05 May 2021).
Getting into a relationship requires resilience from an emotional standpoint and emotional maturity; especially when you choose to make that crucial decision to actually fall in love with someone. On the relationship between love and mental health I find this an interesting one; because in my experience one of the problems many of us encounter as mentally ill people is how to maintain stability emotionally and mentally. There isn’t a magic wand that makes this happen for anyone, (even with medication) and it’s something we have to learn to manage. Given that falling in love requires you to be vulnerable in a certain way, it means you are open emotionally and not guarded, dropping this defence allows for maximum pain if you’re going through a low point in your relationship, or if you are not getting what you’re emotionally craving. All of this if it becomes too extreme can probably be toxic to your mental state and there is a certain vulnerability or weak point for those of us with disorders, in that for many of us this can have consequences that are far worse than what it would be for others and knowing how to keep control of this is important.
Trust is another issue; knowing how to trust others and also getting others to trust you and knowing how to respond to this is important. Having been away from people, things like emotional baggage your partner may be holding is important to recognise and for you to be able to handle and work with that at times; this requires your empathy button and a softness and being out of touch with this side of yourself due to hospitalisation can harden you. Emotional damage and people’s inability to build a relationship with another is something you have to learn to understand; reading your partner is important to knowing the truth of a situation and how far something can go. For us as former mental health patients, trust is a hurdle that is one of the biggest; telling your partner you have a condition can be daunting and through all the passion I had in my first relationship, I never trusted what my partner would think of me enough to confide in her about this. Challenging the taboo through disclosure is something that is a milestone for those of us who enter relationships. I was asked the question, “why did you go to the pharmacy?” on a video call that I had with my ex-girlfriend. I had to lie more or less through my teeth because the trust wasn’t there. Knowing you will not be judged and that you can be true to yourself when you are with your partner is something very important. Former mental health patient RW, appeared to convey that his experiences where not dissimilar when it came to this topic:
‘My condition makes me paranoid of people and I’m naturally paranoid, so I find it difficult to trust. I used to say quirks to my partners….Being in hospital for a long period of time makes your confidence level low and gives you uncertainty in what to say and what not to say and what you need to say and what you need not say. It disconnects you from your bearings…I just tried to be myself that’s how I kept it stable, that’s all you can do at the end of the day.’
(Former patient RW, interview, 05 May 2021).
Jerome Sewell is an Executive Film Producer, Project Manager, Bid Writer and Managing Director of two companies, one which assists young people from gang hit communities called Unique Talent CIC where he heads their media and film department and sustainable transport department and a second company named Therapeutic Productions which provides mental health services through the creative arts.
