"Thank
You for Believing Me Well"
As a young social worker
in a New York City psychiatric clinic, I was asked to see Roz, a 20-year-old
woman who had been referred to us from another psychiatric facility. It
was an unusual referral in that no information was received ahead of her
first appointment. I was told to "play it by ear." and to figure
out what her problems were
and what she needed.
Without a diagnosis to go
on, I saw Roz as an unhappy, misunderstood young woman who
hadn't been listened to in her earlier therapy. Her family situation
was unpleasant. I didn't see her as disturbed, but rather as lonely
and misunderstood. She responded so positively to being heard. I worked
with her to start a life worth living - to find a job, a satisfying place
to live and new relationships. We hit it off well, and she started making
important changes in her life right away.
The records from the
previous psychiatric facility arrived a month after Roz and I began our
successful work together. To my complete surprise, her records were several
inches thick, describing a number of psychiatric hospitalizations. Her
diagnosis was "paranoid schizophrenic," with a comment on her being "hopeless."
That had not been my experience
with Roz at all. I decided to forget those pieces of paper. I never treated
her as if she had that "hopeless" diagnosis. (It was a lesson for me in
questioning the value and certainty of diagnoses.) I did find out about
the horrors for Roz of those hospitalizations, of being drugged, isolated
and abused. I also learned a lot from her about surviving such traumatic
circumstances.
First Roz found a job, then
a place to live away from her difficult family. After several months of
working together, she introduced me to her husband-to-be, a successful
businessman who adored her.
When we completed our therapy,
Roz gave me the gift of a silver bookmark and a note that said, "Thank
you for believing me well."
I have carried that note
with me and I will for the rest of my life, to remind me of the stand I
take for people, thanks to one brave woman's triumph over a "hopeless"
diagnosis.
By
Judy Tatelbaum
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