mental health

Elizabeth Packard: A Noble Fight

andrea — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 08:00:00 +0000

In 1860, it was legal for a man to send his wife to an insane asylum against her will, based on his word and that of one or two witnesses. The asylum could deny patients the right to legal representation as well as visits and uncensored correspondence with friends. And a man could sell his property and take his children across the country without consulting his wife, because the property and children were considered his, even if her inheritance and income had contributed to that property. This was the world in which Elizabeth Parsons Packard lived.

Born in 1816 in Dare, Massachusetts, she lived a fairly conventional life her first forty-four years, marrying Calvinist minister Theophilus Packard, bearing him six children, and moving from town to town and state to state as he sought ministry opportunities. But during the family's residence in Manteno, Illinois in the 1850s she began to exhibit greater independence from her husband, dabbling in Spiritualism, espousing unorthodox (some would say heretical) religious opinions and confessing to romantic (although unconsummated) feelings for another man. Prompted by this “abnormal behavior,” in 1860 Theophilus had his wife committed to the insane asylum in Jacksonville, Illinois.

Packard was released after three years and declared sane in the jury trial she was denied when forced into the asylum. While her release may have been partially due to efforts of friends on her behalf, it was also because Andrew McFarland, the superintendent of the Jacksonville asylum and a leading figure in the psychiatric community, had become exasperated with her demands and complaints, terming her “an unendurable annoyance.” The antagonism between Packard and McFarland, which continued after her release through both of their writings, is painted in detail in this book, as are the evolving psychiatric standards and practices of the time.

Packard was not reunited with her children upon her release, as her husband had taken her younger children back to Massachusetts with him. (Her oldest sons were living on their own by that point.) A woman of tremendous resources, she began writing pamphlets and lobbying state legislatures for changes that would give both the mentally ill and married women greater rights.

Elizabeth Packard: A Noble Fight is an engaging portrait of Packard's life and crusade. She emerges as a shrewd campaigner who took advantage of stereotypes of weak females who needed the protection of strong men (legislators) because of their powerlessness; her personal charisma went a long way in lobbying efforts. Modern readers may be disappointed that she did not broaden her efforts to include greater rights for all women or claim full equality with men. Nor did she divorce her husband (although they never lived together after her time at the asylum) since she viewed divorce as scandalous. However, such statements and actions might have turned society against her and hurt her cause.

Kudos to Linda Carlisle for bringing to light the forgotten story of a woman who challenged prevailing ideas about the treatment of the mentally ill and the rights of women. Academic biographies of this sort are often quite dry, but Packard crafts an engaging narrative. Her passion for this cause shines through and creates a compelling read.

Written by: Karen Duda, April 26th 2011

Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things

mandy — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

By Randy Frost, Gail Steketee

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

I was pleased as soon as I ran my fingers over the pleasantly matte dust jacket of Stuff. My pleasure only grew once I dove in: authors Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee smoothly meld case study and psychological analysis for an engaging read. Throughout their account, they also include a broad (though never deep) smattering of speculations about the anthropological, neurobiological, and political aspects of hoarding.

The case studies are fascinating and eclectic. The most extreme is a dire, almost sensationalist account of a cat-hoarding cult that sprung up around a psychiatrist in New York City in the 1970s, involving many of the psychiatrist's patients and hundreds of cats. A more pedestrian example is the story of a woman who got into the habit of ordering magazines in stacks of three, so that she could touch only the top and bottom copy, leaving the middle copy pristine.

The authors' analysis is insightful, accessible, and deeply resonant. Drawing on sources as diverse as the writings of Jean-Paul Sartre and the television special Affluenza, Frost and Steketee muse about the nature of self-worth, meaning, and identity in a consumer age. They sensitively acknowledge the profound significance of hoarding to those who practice it—whether it is the woman who believes that she will lose her memory in the absence of physical reminders; the man with ideas for reusing even the most ragged, cast-off item; or the woman whose stacking behavior began as a way to wall off a room in which she was raped. One chapter at a time, the authors piece together a framework for understanding the beliefs and desires that underlie hoarding—difficulty with so-called “executive” functions such as planning and decision-making; an attempt to preserve memories and opportunities; and, perhaps, an advanced capacity for seeing meaning, beauty, detail, and potential in material objects.

Narratives such as Stuff walk a difficult line, acknowledging the very real havoc that psychopathology can wreak on human lives, without casting it as an extra-human phenomenon that renders its bearers worthless, incomprehensible, monstrous, or undeserving of autonomy. Throughout their book, Frost and Steketee try hard to emphasize the humanity of their subjects—so hard, in fact, that they wind up sounding like they are trying to convince themselves. The book radiates an uncomfortable combination of identification and disgust—for example, the authors joke that they notice their colleagues tidying their offices out of the fear that they too will be labeled “hoarders” by the experts.

As another example, consider the following description: “Some theorists have posited that people with hoarding tendencies form attachments to possessions instead of people.... Hoarders...are remote and suspicious. Irene, however, defied this categorization.... She had a quick wit and a well-developed sense of humor. It was easy to see why people liked her.” The authors continue, “It is no coincidence that most of the people described in this book are highly intelligent. Although hoarding is considered a mental disorder, it may stem from an extraordinary ability.” I appreciate the nuance—I would rather explore hoarders' heightened sensitivities than flippantly label them damaged goods. However, this “madness equals genius” move merely reinforces the idea that human lives are only valuable as long as they are “productive” or otherwise gratifying to an external observer. What if Irene had not been personable, or “articulate and insightful,” as she is later described? Would we then be justified if we failed to relate to her, or to see her life as worthwhile?

Like many human traits, hoarding can be extremely debilitating—at times even fatal. And, as the authors point out, perhaps it is also a form of artistry. However, it is essential to tell the story of both the disorder and the gift without sensationalism and without thank-God-it's-them-and-not-me relief. Frost and Steketee strive for this balance, but in the end it eludes them.

Written by: Ri J. Turner, March 8th 2011

Possible Lives (Las Vidas Posibles)

mandy — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Sandra Gugliotta

Global Film Initiative

As a geologist, Clara’s husband Luciano often travels to Patagonia for work. After calling Clara from the road, he stops answering his cell phone. Once she’s confirmed that he failed to check into his hotel, Clara leaves a note and sets out to find him. Thousands of miles from home, she checks into the room herself. She meets with a police inspector and asks for help finding her husband. “When the weather improves,” he assures her, noting that in such inclement conditions, there are many accidents.

While biding her time in the middle of nowhere, Clara meets a real estate agent who bears a striking resemblance to her missing spouse. She feigns interest in buying property to spend time with him, despite the fact that he has a wife. She prowls around his house at night. She asks awkward questions about his personal life and, eventually, she even ignores information from the police about her husband’s actual disappearance.

Possible Lives, a sleepy eighty-minute film in Spanish with English subtitles, is an interesting concept but lacks suspense. Though pretty, it isn’t terribly eventful. Without much time to learn about the characters’ relationships, it’s difficult to feel connected to their problems, to Clara’s fright and grief; yet it’s always quite easy to discern what is happening in what could be an elegant mystery about losing one’s mind and losing one’s partner. It’s a perfectly fine film to catch along with a series of other during a festival showcase, but you shouldn’t rent it expecting a riotously entertaining drama.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, January 23rd 2011

How We Got Barb Back: The Story of My Sister’s Reawakening After 30 Years of Schizophrenia

farhana — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Margaret Hawkins

Conari Press

“There is a truism in the mental health community that says that troubled families focus on the sickest member, even welcoming the sickness, to avoid dealing with other problems,” writes Margaret Hawkins on page 77. By this time, I had been fully introduced to her family and was struck by the truth of this statement.

Margy’s family story began as so many others did in the mid-twentieth century. Dad is a professional, Mom stays home with the children, three children live in a safe suburb, walk to school, argue with each other, and clamor for more freedom. From the outside, perhaps the most boundary-stretching part of their lives was the fact that the age gap between Margy and her older siblings was so large. Barb, the oldest, was eleven, and Tom was eight when she was born, so by the time Margaret was old enough to form any lasting impression of her sister, Barb was graduating from high school. It was during this time that Barb began slowly slipping into schizophrenia.

There were so many strikes against Barb at this point that it seems almost understandable that she fell through the cracks. She was leaving home to live on her own at college, her parents were suspicious of doctors, and mental illness was severely stigmatized in the 1950s and early 1960s. Somehow, Barb managed to graduate college, get married, and move to the Middle East with her husband for two years before her disability became unavoidable.

The story really gets going upon Barb’s return from Iraq when she moves back in with her parents and succumbs to the voices in her head. Her parents make very little attempt to get help for their eldest daughter, instead accommodating her need for isolation and ensuring that she never has to leave the house. This goes on until both parents are dead, nearly thirty years later.

Margy instantly springs into action, proving herself uncannily able to dig up resources to help Barb in the form of home visits from social workers and psychiatrists. She patiently but tenaciously continues to push her sister’s boundaries and is rewarded with an amazing realization that there is more of Barb inside than anyone ever realized.

This story is a testament to the power of love and persistence, patience, and compassion, and will leave you wondering if you just might be selling someone you know a little short because it makes life a little simpler.

Written by: Kari O’Driscoll, December 2nd 2010

It’s Kind of a Funny Story

mandy — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Ryan Fleck, Anna Boden

Focus Features

It’s not very often that people take the time to explore the mind of a teenager and it’s even less frequent that this exploration takes place on the Silver Screen. In the current cultural climate, teenagers are nearly an endangered species; 1.6 million are homeless, and those fortunate enough to have a roof over their heads face daily struggles with bullying, body image, sexual predators, and the intense stress of a failing educational system. Even, or maybe especially, those of privilege, who come from stable homes and elite educational institutions are crippled by an overwhelming expectation to succeed.

In It's Kind of a Funny Story Craig (Keir Gilchrist) is one of the latter: a white, upper class, sixteen-year-old whose anxiety level is so unbearable that he checks himself into a psychiatric ward out of fear that he may commit suicide. Merely moments after being committed, Craig is faced with the reality of his decision—a schizophrenic wanders the halls shouting, his roommate hasn’t left his bed for weeks, and hospital policy requires Craig stay for a minimum of five days. Except for the presence another young patient, Noelle (played by the charming Emma Roberts), Craig is certain he doesn’t belong there. Yet, over the course of a school week, Craig receives an alternate education in life, love, and self-discovery. And believe it or not, it is kind of a funny story.

Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, who co-wrote and co-directed the film, have an exceptional ability for constructing emotionally vibrant stories that focus on what are often perceived to be deviant relationships. In 2006’s award-winning Half Nelson, the duo chronicled the cathartic friendship between a meth-addicted middle school teacher and his adolescent student. It's Kind of a Funny Story also utilizes this dynamic to further explore the invisible barrier between youth and adults when Craig befriends Bobby (Zack Galifianakis), a fellow patient more than twice his age. And just as Half Nelson created a space for the unheard voices of addicts and an inner city youth, It's Kind of a Funny Story breaks the silence of another pair of marginalized groups: teenagers and the mentally ill.

Gilchrist is effectively genuine in portraying Craig’s awareness of his inner turmoil while lacking the ability to articulate it. Instead of weighing down the script with gratuitous dialogue, the film’s journey into Craig’s mind through the use of flashback, animation, and one kick-ass rock 'n roll fantasy provides a subtle testament to arts education. Though his role in The Hangover has practically guaranteed Galifianakis a career as the peculiar yet hilarious sidekick, It's Kind of a Funny Story offers the North Carolina School of the Arts alum an opportunity to transcend typecasting and delve into a more nuanced and dimensional character. Galifianakis nails it. Without saying a word, he has the ability to be both hilarious and touching while offering Craig a chance to do what he was unable to on the outside: just live. Free from confines of parental expectations and a highly competitive peer group, Craig liberates not only himself, but those around him.

Ultimately, the lesson in this film is one of perspective. It's Kind of a Funny Story is a heartfelt reminder that even flawed adults can be role models and the minds of the youth are worth inhabiting.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, October 15th 2010

Amen, Amen, Amen: Memoir of a Girl Who Couldn’t Stop Praying

mandy — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Abby Sher

Simon & Schuster

How does an eleven-year-old girl cope with the trauma of losing both her favorite aunt and her beloved father in the span of one calendar year? She may pray to God daily to ask Him to protect her loved ones. But what happens when prayer becomes more than just a comfort? What happens when it becomes a compulsion? This question is at the heart of Abby Sher’s memoir Amen, Amen, Amen.

The power of prayer has been the subject of much debate and research, with studies claiming that prayer can help heal the sick, even when the sick person has no relation to the people offering the curative incantation, nor knowledge of being prayed for. There are other studies that show people who pray experience feelings of relief: it makes sense that prayer could benefit those for whom religion is personally significant. If it’s good for people, even if it’s not provably efficacious, what’s the harm?

Abby Sher’s compulsions began when she was a small child—from tearing up paper napkins at the dinner table to tracing the wallpaper on her bedroom walls until her finger bruised. The impulses grew more invasive as Sher got older and calamity became a fixture in her life. An emotionally fragile pre-adolescent, Abby identified herself as the one to blame for the unexpected deaths in her family, and turned to God for help. But her sense of consolation was quickly overshadowed by a consuming fear of causing death and danger. Abby became convinced that giving herself fully to God and doing His protective bidding was the only way to ensure that no one else would meet an untimely, tragic fate.

For all the benefits that prayer might offer, it does not guarantee safety from disaster. But Abby was certain the lives of others were her responsibility, and hinged on her pact with God. To Abby, the balance of the world rested squarely on her shoulders, and the slightest misstep on her part set in motion scenarios with disastrous consequences.

No doubt this manner of irrational thinking will sound strange to most people, religious or not, and Sher does a good job of allowing the reader an insider’s view of the logic behind her delusions. Much of her behavior fell within the bounds of what is normal, especially in a devoutly Jewish context. On the surface, Abby appeared to be a staunch, if somewhat peculiar, follower of God. It is only when we learn what was going on in her head that Sher’s actions read as bizarre instead of faithful.

Ascetics throughout history have gotten into trouble for exhibiting behaviors far more extreme than Sher’s; the difference between mystical devotion and mental illness can be hard to construe. It is primarily though a lens of psychoanalysis that compulsive ritual begins to be regarded as illegitimate or destructive. In Sher’s case, even when she began seeing a therapist, her faith served to reinforce some of her more ritualistic actions, like daily fasting—a behavior that, when decontextualized, was revealed as severe anorexia.

By the time Abby meets her savior—an atheist man who helped her see her conduct as the result of self-loathing and delusion—I was glad to let go of my knee-jerk feminist disapproval of the knight in shining armor fable. Amen, Amen, Amen is a painful yet revelatory read that had this nonbeliever sending a healing mantra into the universe for Sher and others like her who live with a form of obsessive compulsive disorder masked by religion. In another time or place, Sher might have entered a hermitage. Today she will have to settle for appearances on TV talk shows.

Excerpted from Religion Dispatches

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, October 5th 2010

A Kind of Intimacy

admin — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Jenn Ashworth

Europa Editions

In Jenn Ashworth’s debut novel, A Kind of Intimacy, the reader follows a few weeks of Annie's life. Annie is not exactly a well person. She doesn’t have much going for her either. Her father was abusive and she married early partly to leave home and partly because she doesn’t have anything better to do. She was lucky, more or less, to have met someone who could support her, who wanted to do so, who was kind, and whose worst faults were tending toward the cheap side of thrifty and wanting to have children.

Eventually the demands of family life get to Annie. She kills her husband and their baby and moves into a new house across town with little more than her cat (to whom she is attached), a trove of self-help books, and a "File" into which she organizes the wisdom from the books into an elaborate system of cross-references she can apply to daily situations. For example, how to get her neighbor’s live-in girlfriend, Lucy, out of the way so that they can realize their destined Great Love. Obviously, this doesn’t go over very well.

The fact that Annie’s perspective on, well, everything is terribly and tragically wrong slips by most of the characters until it is nearly too late. The reader, however, is permitted access to Annie’s mind. At her housewarming party, Lucy, who is young and occasionally manifests the snobbery of youth, opens a bottle of wine, pours it into a glass, swirls it around, sniffs it and then drinks. Annie sees this and wonders, scornfully, “Did she think I was going to poison her or something?” I think, for me, that was when it clicked, when I got my first jolting sense of what it was like to be Annie. The world, for her, is a somewhat bewildering place where everyone but her seems to have attended some secret meeting where they learned all the rituals and understandings that would mark them off as normal, lovable, sane and special. Annie has missed this meeting but believes she knows enough about it to resent it. Annie also doesn’t doubt her grasp on reality and trusts herself to assess the world accurately.

This is an impressive first novel. There are a few editorial errors: a dress (one important to the plot) turns into a pair of jeans and a minor character’s name changes over the course of a few pages. These are insignificant oversights. Ashworth successfully puts her reader in Annie’s place and, amazingly, the reader is able to see the plausibility—from Annie’s perspective—of Annie’s thoughts and judgments. The reader also sees just how wrong Annie gets it, cringes at and for her. I admit, I found the novel a bit stressful sometimes. There was no flaw or shortcoming in the story or its presentation; noting the chasm between Annie’s perspective and my own induced an intense sense of vertigo.

Written by: kristina grob, August 7th 2010

Lifting Depression: A Neuroscientist's Hands-On Approach to Activating Your Brain's Healing Power

admin — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Kelly Lambert

Basic Books

"Depression hurts," chimes the television announcer. Most people have been depressed at some point in their lives, whether from a life-changing event or simply a bad patch of circumstance. I am willing to wager that if you haven’t been there yourself, you know someone who has suffered from depression. The pharmaceutical industry is now doling out pills to treat depression and a large portion of our population is taking them, some with marked results, some going from pill to pill searching for the perfect cocktail that will relieve them of pain and anxiety, fear and restlessness.

In her book Lifting Depression, Kelly Lambert explores the reasons why people born in the middle of the twentieth century are ten times more likely to suffer from major depression compared to people born in the early twentieth century. Why, in our modern day convenience-filled society, do people seem to be so ill at ease? Dr. Lambert is the chair of psychology at Randolph-Macon College and President of the Behavioral Neuroscience Society, and her research has been featured on ABC’s World News Tonight and in Scientific American Mind.

In one experiment she conducted with rats, some had to work hard for rewards while others, dubbed the "trust fund rats," were simply given the treats. After five weeks, the hardworking rats were sixty percent more persistent in trying to work on a new task. She describes this as "learned persistence," and theorizes that coming from our agrarian roots, the human brain receives stimulation from doing concrete tasks like working with our hands, and accomplishing something you can hold as the fruit of your labor, "effort driven rewards."

Lambert's studies find that engaging the effort driven rewards circuit of your brain appears to be equivalent to taking a dose of the most powerful antidepressants. With this in mind, she suggests that something like "behavioral activation therapy" can work to retrain your brain to be happier in the long term. With this form of therapy, a person learns how to alter their behavioral responses to situations and even change their environments to stimulate the brain into feeling more rewarded and therefore relieving the subject of their depression.

Lambert is not advocating the end of pharmaceutical intervention to lift someone out of a lethargic and depressed state. But she maintains that without some other form of therapy, or alteration in activities, a person could simply remain on these drugs, without ever being able to get out of the cycle completely.

Lifting Depression is not only a valuable addition to the field of psychology in an academic sense, but it is also a readable guide book that I would recommend to anyone struggling with depression or seeking to understand how they could offer better guidance to a person who is.

It seems so simple, to engage in exercise, to take up knitting or woodworking as a way to engage the brain in a new rewards program that will assist in finding happiness. But if it is so simple, (and inexpensive!), then why are most people advised by their healthcare providers to just pop the pill and carry on as usual?

Written by: Jen Wilson Lloyd, June 7th 2010

subCITY: Out of Sight. Out of Mind.

admin — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 16:59:00 +0000

Directed by Kevin D'Haeze

Firefly Studios

In less than forty-five minutes, subCITY will shatter any notions you may have about access to mental health care in the United States, in Oregon in particular, the state where I live. Working for a mental health advocacy group, I'm reminded daily that the system is broken. But I didn't realize just how broken until I watched this film.

The director/producer team of Kevin and Dawn D'Haeze has created a powerful indictment of our current mental health care system. Tracing our currently underfunded system back to the early 1980s, subCITY shows how initiatives launched by former President Reagan have left a painful legacy for states like Oregon, which now has more people with mental illness in its correctional system than in its mental health hospitals.

Soon after taking office in 1981, Reagan rescinded the Community Mental Health Systems Act, slashing federal funding and placing the burden of cost for community mental health care on states. At the same time, Congress launched parallel initiatives, such as the War on Drugs, which created the rise of the prison industrial complex. The result? The combination of less funding for community mental health care and increased penalties for nonviolent drug crimes has put more people with mental illness in jails and prisons instead of allowing them access to treatment.

Does this make fiscal sense? No. But as Oregon State Representative Chris Garrett notes in the film, ballot measures and other moves to be “tough on crime” don't offer alternatives to incarceration. This sucks up funding, leaving less and less for community mental health care. This is in spite of the fact that this kind of care is far less costly than prison, and far less of a drain on the law enforcement agencies that are increasingly relied upon to “take care of” people with mental illness who end up on the streets.

Beyond proving their point with statistics, the filmmakers have candid and heartbreaking interviews with people whom the system has chewed up and spit out. They also speak with the counselors, police officers, and other community members who are trying to help them. More than anything, subCITY is a call to action. So do what the film intends by watching subCITY in its entirety on the web. Then visit the “take action” section of the film's website, which provides tips on how you can make a difference on this issue that affects us all.

Written by: M.L. Madison, March 10th 2010

Creating Myself: How I Learned That Beauty Comes in All Shapes, Sizes, and Packages, Including Me

admin — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 17:04:00 +0000

By Mia Tyler

Atria Books

Imagine growing up with these parents: Steven Tyler from Aerosmith and Cyrinda Foxe, a popular actress and model from the 1970s. At first glance, it might seem luxurious, glamorous, exciting, and fun to be part of this family, but Mia Tyler tells the real story of her experiences with her rock 'n roll mom and dad in Creating Myself.

From the first lines of the book, which reveal Tyler's intention to commit suicide in 2001, readers will find riveting details, shocking stories, and jaw-dropping secrets. For example, as an eight-year-old, Tyler had to pour her mother's vial of cocaine into the toilet, and later in life she struggled with her own drug addictions and self-mutilation.

But this book is much more than an exposé of a celebrity family; it is Mia's story of coping, growing, forgiving, moving on, and finding herself amidst the chaos and confusion of a rollercoaster home life. Stories and memories are shared, along with descriptions of birthdays, romances, family tension, crazy social sprees, and her work as a plus-size model. Tyler recounts her trials with using men, drugs, and food, and working to overcome these addictions. She even provides a detailed examination of her own sanity at different points in her life, and how her psychological well-being impacted her choices and the way she encountered the world.

Tyler's candid stories and honest self-evaluations reflect a woman who has been through a lot, has taken a good hard look at herself and the world around her, and has chosen to take the best approach possible by forgiving herself and her family, moving on, and deciding to take care of herself. She comes out stronger in the end, with seemingly endless love and wisdom to share.

Creating Myself will hit home with all readers, even those who don't share Tyler's celebrity status or her extreme past. Those who choose this book will find out that it is possible to take on—and overcome—all that the world has in store for us.

Written by: Amanda Moss, August 30th 2009

How to be a Model (A 12 Step Plan)

admin — Mon, 07 May 2007 19:04:00 +0000

Directed by Allison Beda

a Muse Productions

How to be a Model (A 12 Step Plan) is everything you didn’t anticipate. This ex-model uses her newfound filmmaking skills to take viewers behind the scenes of this not-so-glamorous lifestyle, and - instead of teaching us how to become a model - she teaches us how to recover from modeling. Beda says “to be a model necessitates recovering from being a model,” and that is why the 12-step program shows the audience how to survive the harsh realities of modeling rather than how to enter this grueling industry.

The film follows Beda’s friend, Peggi Lepage, a 28-year-old international model with “one-more-year syndrome.” Through this, the audience sees the real world of modeling, not the glitzy stuff shown on TV and in movies. We learn the hardships, such as the daily battles most models have with their self-esteem, the strains on their relationships and, of course, the steps.

Naturally, step one is to meet the physical requirements. Most already know that only a small percentage of people actually have bodies that meet these requirements. According to Beda, 90% of the known world cannot be a model based on their physical measurements. We also learn, through a later step entitled “Are you really meeting the physical requirements?” that even models with the "correct" height, bust and waist size may not be what the market wants. Many models have plastic surgery, and one in ten do not have an eating disorder.

Another step, instructs viewers to have an anchor in the “real” world. Since, as Beda illustrates, the modeling industry simply uses and disposes its models, the assistance of people outside this world is essential. Peggi’s anchor is her mother Patricia, who supports her daughter, but, through tears, expresses her unhappiness with Peggi’s decision to subject herself to such a cruel industry.

Models must also plan on being alone. Friendships last around six weeks, and are disposable. Many girls in the film say they thought modeling would help them make friends, but because of the lifestyle, this isn’t the reality. Also, depression inevitably shadows their lonely existence.

Beda’s last step advises anyone considering modeling to have a second career in mind. Youth is what the agencies and market want, therefore, you cannot model forever. And, as many of the models attest to, modeling is better when you have something to fall back on.

The film also teaches viewers some model lingo. We also learn that “go-sees” are when models walk into agencies and see who can get them work. This often requires walking for miles and hours. The previously mentioned term one-more-year syndrome describes how a large number of models tell themselves they’ll model for only another year, but many never keep this promise. This is because, as Beda shows, modeling is addicting, despite all of its severities.

Laced with humorous sarcasm, tears and new beginnings, How to be a Model (A 12 Step Plan) demystifies the unforgiving world of modeling, while showcasing the enlightening journeys of career models as well as Beda’s transition into the more rewarding art of filmmaking.

Written by: Michelle Tooker, May 7th 2007

Crazy Mary and Others

admin — Wed, 28 Mar 2007 03:45:00 +0000

By Michele Belluomini

Plan B Press

Crazy Mary and Others is an emotion-evoking look into the life of a woman who has been destined by humanity to be the outsider. She walks in a world where simple communication to others is an effort too great to comply with. Mary, having been released from an institution (that the author keeps obscure) returns to a life unclaimed and she feels unlived. She returns back to the streets of Manhattan only to find that life, as she knew it, is gone.

Michele Belluomini has tapped into the emotions and intelligence of a woman who, if we were to see Mary on the street, would be just another indigent “crazy” shuffling their way through a bustling city of indifference. As the story progresses, you experience the shock and sudden despair of Mary as she tries desperately to justify her existence among a world of people that are now gone and her home of yesteryear where the flowers no longer bloom. Belluomini works with emotional placement to bind those things both past and present and looks at the symbolism of the earth, stars, moon and life sources. She intricately weaves this journey with an overwhelming sense of the positive. The readers find themselves overwhelmed with the plight of Mary, and with a sense of hopefulness, they dream that this insightful, intelligent woman is able to once again, find her place in this world gone awry.

At the beginning of this wonderful piece of art, Belluomini states a stanza so powerful that it bears repeating for this review. As a writer, I find so many things to quote in this work, that it has been a sincere struggle to only pick out only one for the limited space I have. The title poem, “Crazy Mary,” states:

“still not sure how she got to this cold eastern city still not sure what the terms of exile are she says: I can remember the past, but I cannot recall the future she says: no, that is not what I wanted to say I wanted to say, the future behind me is the past in front of me Yes, That is what I wanted to say”

Those few opening lines begin the journey of internal struggle for our heroine Mary and her final plan to make sense of her world and ours. Belluomini will change your mind and heart about our “crazy” homeless. She will reach into your soul and command your attention to the fact these “crazies” are people too and are deserving of our love, our attention and our respect. Many lives are lived in many different ways, one no more respective than the next. Crazy Mary and Others also offers some other works from Belluomini that will also stir your soul, open your eyes and make your heart, a better place to dwell within.

Written by: Karen S. Morris, March 27th 2007