I have had, for about six years or so, a condition of (legitimately diagnosed and treated) depression. After crashing about 2010ish, I’ve been taking medication and seeing off-and-on a therapist.
I moved to my current place about two years or so ago. My (regular, GP, PCP, etc.) doctor had changed about a month ago and the new one suggested I see a therapist again. I was referred to the county MH services and got an appointment, which I just got back from.
The place was next to a hospital of some age. The building itself appears to be reasonably new, and well laid out. It was a little sterile, in that way that medical buildings are. There were signs posted here and there on many subjects, from the professionally done ones with backgrounds and layouts, to the quickly typed up ones in Microsoft Word warning against parking where you will get towed and tampering with the television.
Now, I have to explain something. Where I live, mental health is divided into private practice and publicly supported practice. The county MH office is the latter. They are the ones who serve the – there is no good way to say it – poor people who need MH help.
Now, what I remember most outside of the actual appointment, was what kind of problems they had to deal with. The posters on the walls were for things like pregnant users who wanted to quit, people who might know about mistreatment of the disabled and I forget the others. Also, there was a person there in the waiting room telling his life story to someone else that seemed highly depressing, if true (I feel that I have to be careful trusting other people).
To be honest, I felt a little out of place there with my mostly controlled depression. People there were truly down and out in almost every way: mentally, emotionally, physically in some cases and finantially. I don’t know if they were homeless or not, but they were poor.
Thinking about it now, I feel a little sad about the state of society.