Over the past few months I have written a good deal on subjects that, either directly or indirectly, relate to some form of human suffering in connection with mental health. My main concern has been with the past suffering of children and adolescents – most of whom have hopefully survived into adulthood – who spent some (or all) of their formative years in residential psychiatric care.
From the age of twelve to seventeen, I myself spend some considerable time in a children’s psychiatric unit (it wasn’t a single continuous stay, but it certainly dominated that part of my life). It was a very unpleasant experience, but I freely acknowledge that I was very fortunate compared to some of the other young people I knew during that time. Back then (from early 1976 to late 1980) I witnessed a good deal of mental distress in others that put my own difficulties into perspective.
Needless to say, in that situation, much of the suffering in question was directly caused by the very reason for admission to a psychiatric unit in the first place. Those young mental patients suffered with a variety of problems, from depression to eating disorders, from neuroses to psychoses. But there was additional suffering for some of those kids. This was the result of separation from, or rejection by, their families, plus occasionally punitive and unjust treatment at the unit.
But there is another kind of suffering on my mind as I write this. The people of Japan are very much in my thoughts at the moment, as that country was hit by a devastating earthquake on Friday, 11 March 2011. Today, the following Monday, the scale of human suffering in the wake of that event is becoming more and more difficult to take in.
How are we to deal with the issue of human suffering? How are we to compare suffering on a relatively small scale, such as that experienced in a 1970s children’s unit, with that on a much larger scale?
This question reminded me of something I read in an introductory theology text a number of years ago. I had a rummage on my book shelves to see if I still had it, and if I could find the passage I remembered (and if I had remembered it correctly). As it happened, I was able to find it quite quickly, and so I will quote what I found:
Some [people] are appalled by the total, vast extent of evil and suffering. It is true, of course, that no one person can experience it all. If twenty thousand people suffer and die from cancer of the lung there is no one person who can suffer more than his own individual share of pain. No one can die twenty thousand deaths.
(John Stacey, 1977/1984, Groundwork of Theology, p. 98)
The reason I bring this up is because it deals with perspective, and also because I believe all suffering matters. It may be one person’s suffering, or it may be thousands of people’s suffering. Recovery may take place in just a few days, or it may take years (or, very sadly, recovery may be impossible). The point is that suffering is still a tragedy, no matter what the scale. This is not a competition. If you’ve been hurt or damaged, then that still matters, and working towards a better future for yourself and those close to you is important. There may be others who are suffering more, and you can empathise with them and help them if you can; but that does not devalue your experience.
My thoughts are very much with the people of Japan, but they also continue to be with those young people I once knew all those years ago. If the thought can translate into practical attention (however small), and if concern can translate into hope (however small), then I'm sure those thoughts and concerns are worth having.
____________
Delivered Unto Lions by David Austin is published by CheckPoint Press
ISBN 978-1-906628-21-5
For more information visit www.davidaustin.eu
No comments:
Post a Comment