The Antidotes to Despair
Lessons learned as a mental health volunteer in Chiapas, Mexico
I was drawn to work with Partners In Health because I needed my own antidote to despair. I knew global health was my calling, but for a while in college, I felt lost. I feared intervening as a foreigner whose well-intended, yet uninformed, actions might cause negative consequences.
That fear stemmed, in part, from an experience in Haiti, where I had helped start a latrine project that was poorly designed. The latrines were built above pits that hadn’t been sealed with a concrete lining. I didn’t know it at the time, but they posed a serious public health concern, considering some people’s stool likely carried the bacteria that causes cholera and could leech into the water table, inadvertently spreading the deadly infectious disease. And even had the latrine construction gone as planned, it was just one small project, disconnected from any functioning sanitation system that could render it sustainable.
Ultimately, this experience left me feeling paralyzed and daunted by the enormity of the problem and the complexities of global health and development work. Through discussions, books, and time spent obtaining a master’s degree in global mental health, I have found my way over the past few years to a middle ground of humility and hope. I learned about successful global health programs and studied their best practices. PIH’s mission, Paul Farmer’s and other’s publications, and my work in grassroots advocacy with PIH Engage guided me through this process, along with the help of friends, family, and prayer.
I have found my niche in global mental health with PIH. There is a particular part of the mission statement that sticks with me: “To serve as an antidote to despair.”
I have found my niche in global mental health with PIH. There is a particular part of the mission statement that sticks with me: “To serve as an antidote to despair.” I feel staff embody this in their work, from caring for patients who otherwise wouldn’t have access to health care, to investing in public health systems to sustain this care. It is this mission that has inspired me in my work in global health, and brought me to Mexico to volunteer with the mental health team at Compañeros En Salud, as PIH is known locally.
I have seen how small changes have an impact on people’s lives and chip away at bigger, structural problems. This process is cyclical, not linear. But this antidote to despair and the rhetoric of health as a human right, which drew me to Chiapas and to PIH, are not what keep me here. What keeps me here are the people dedicated to this mission.
First, there is the dedication of our staff and volunteers. They do not know the meaning of a 9-to-5 job; their work is their life. Late night meetings mix global health discussions with personal life stories. Some staff dedicate Sundays, their only day off, to organizing logistics for our community health workers or visiting a patient dying of cancer. Others volunteer at a clinic all week and spend the weekend in nursing class. They allow themselves tears of frustration and sadness for their patients suffering from domestic violence, and then pick themselves up and keep fighting alongside these same survivors. They attend meetings even when their husbands don’t want them to work, because they believe in PIH. I admire how everyone shows up wherever they are needed to serve their patients and improve our programs. This community has become my support network and inspiration.
Our patients, too, are dedicated to serving as an antidote to despair as they face systemic and personal obstacles. Some have been on the brink of suicide, but call on inner strength, remember their children, or allow themselves to be supported by a community health worker. Others used to save all of their money to take a family member to the doctor, and now have endless gratitude for the free care PIH delivers. Still others want both their son and their daughter to have educational opportunities, while their neighbors may only send their sons to college.
The beauty of PIH, and of anyone and any organization in-tune with the community served, is that this antidote to despair works both ways. Our caregivers need caring, and our patients provide it. PIH works to break the stereotype of the heroic doctor and the helpless patient.
Our staff and volunteers are aware of their own spiritual and emotional needs as they meditate, pray, exercise, or check in with someone who cares about them. They allow themselves to be vulnerable; as a mental health volunteer, I have had the privilege of having many confide in me. As a whole, they speak honestly and frankly about the frustrations and difficulties of their work. They inspire me to do the same.
Our patients, in parallel, open their homes to our colleagues, sharing coffee and gratitude when we feel like maybe our work isn’t enough. They give me advice on how to have a successful marriage when I’m worried about what the future holds. And they provide support for one another.
We don’t always feel ready to be vulnerable or take care of ourselves. Sometimes families or colleagues abuse, rather than support, one another. Sometimes we feel we spend more time on paperwork than progress.
But dedicating ourselves to serve as an antidote to despair for our patients and for each other ensures that the fight for health as a human right continues, and that all those who are touched by this fight are sustained. There is still more work to be done, and there always will be. But I am so grateful for those by my side.
