Mental Health: The Common Denominator

BY ANTHONY PAYTON

They say that when you do something that you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. I work as a cook for the Cypress Center right here in Manchester. The Cypress Center is part of the MHCGM (Mental Health Center of Greater Manchester). To be quite honest, as a guy who’s been cooking for years, this job has been one of the best. It happens to fulfill my needs, it’s exceeded my expectations, and I don’t dread going to work. This hasn’t always been the case in my work history.

I speak as a cook, not one of the counselors, staff or nurses (all unsung heroes) who are on the front lines tending to the patients. I have such profound respect for the counselors and staff there. These men and women stay up late at night, they arrive at the break of dawn, some of them are on 24-hour call. They speak softly to the patients and try their best to build them up while giving them complete wrap-around support. I’m also someone who’s familiar with the American Psychiatric Association’s DSM-5, but not in depth enough to diagnose anyone accurately. However, I grew up in the housing projects of Brooklyn and lived a life that some may consider cinematic, so I’m usually on point when I make an assessment about someone who may struggle with mental health. More importantly, my own PTSD spans decades, thanks in part to this “cinematic” life that I’ve lived. So I’m very careful to never pass judgment on these people.

Some of the patients arrive on their own accord, some come with family, and some are brought in by police or ambulance. Within minutes, the counselors and staff let me know of their arrival and if they have any food allergies. I feel as though my job is to not only feed their stomachs but to feed their souls. Their moods tend to fluctuate, so sometimes I engage in light conversation, and sometimes I suggest fruits or smoothies when they aren’t in an eating mood. During their moments of struggle, I try to provide a meal that satisfies the soul, surprises them and gives them something to look forward to.

One patient, who’s been a resident for quite some time now, completely makes my day. I would say that his issues are severe, and his medications are strong. Yet and still, we’ve had short conversations on everything from sports to cuisine. He’s very easygoing, he hates fish, loves my cream of potato soup, and prefers a country french salad dressing with his salads.

These patients are sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, friends and acquaintances. Their ages and situations vary. Some of them are fortunate enough to have a support system and some don’t. Sadly, some of them do return back to the Cypress Center. However, it’s better that they return to these places where they can get help and support, as opposed to being locked away inside of a prison cell or another hostile environment. I believe that the environment at the Cypress Center is one that ultimately cultivates healing. I’ve watched these men and women go from being secluded and withdrawn to engaging in board games and television with their peers.

Although things have gotten better when it comes to the stigma of mental health in Black and brown communities, it still persists. I come from an era of well-meaning but misinformed people. During summer months, I’d hear, “Black people don’t get sunburned.” At the beginning of the Covid pandemic, I’d hear, “Black people won’t get Covid.” And for decades, we seemed to disregard mental health issues and counseling for Black people. It wasn’t supposed to be for us. We were too far on the negative side of the socioeconomic scale. And besides, we usually got our therapy from our families and friends.

However, in my nearly four-month tenure there, I’ve seen plenty of Black and brown faces.

Last Christmas the Cypress Center staff made sure that the patients had a Christmas tree and plenty of decorations. The counselors prepared everyone for a festive mood. I promised one of the residents that we’d have eggnog, and that I’d make the same southern-style mac and cheese that I did for Thanksgiving.

There’s no race when it comes to mental health issues. There’s no gender, no income, no sexual orientation. It has no face, and it runs across the entire spectrum of our society. I believe that we need to normalize seeking help. The holiday stresses may have passed, but it’s always a good time to reach out to a family or friend who’s struggling with mental health issues. They may have a smile on their face, but they could be in one of the deepest valleys that you can imagine.

Speaking as someone who knows the power of a good mac and cheese, just the simplest of gestures can be all it takes to lift someone’s spirits. 603