Global Issue: Mental Health and paranoia

Throughout history, there has never been any point in time where humans had more access to
information then that modern age. However, in this age of information where anything is
accessible with a tap on a screen, many people’s ability to connect with and share with their
peers has declined drastically. This, paired with the massive amounts of stress and information
people need to deal with on a daily basis has led to many people having extremely poor mental
health, whether it be from excess stress, or online hate comments. On the other hand, thanks to
the massive amount of information present in the world and peoples in-depth understanding and
empathy towards such people, it has become increasingly easier to get help and connect. One
way this awareness spread is through the ad campaign ,”Safe space”, A series of
advertisements promoting a school meant for those who are struggling with mental wellness.
Moreover, people can get a, albeit exaggerated, view of what goes through the brains of people
with excess paranoia and anxiety through a tell-tale heart, a story about a mentally deranged
criminal. I intend to use these two texts in order to explore my topic: What are the effects and
causes of mental illnesses in a typical society.

The literary body of work that I am using for this exploration is “A tell-tale heart”. This short story
is one written by author Edgar Allen Poe. The story is one narrated by a nameless man who
seems to be suffering from extreme anxiety, nervousness, and delusions. This story was written
in the 1840s and is one of many of Mr. Edgar Allen Poe’s works to feature the metally deranged
or ill. The story is one of admission, whether it be to a judge or someone else whom the narrator
would be talking to from a prison cell. However, throughout the story, there is a strong emphasis
placed on the insistence that the narrator is not metally ill and that the only reason the narrator
actually did commit the crime is due to being pushed into a corner by the “vulture-like” old man
whom he lived with, and supposedly loved.

The story starts with mentioning the past. The narrator talks about how he ended up in prison
and the reasons he did what he did. However, throughout the story, the credibility of the narrator
is called into question. He constantly mentions that he is completely sane and reasonable, yet
his recollection of the events and description of them shows his severe delusions, paranoid, and
anxiety he had been facing in that nerve wracking moment. The main focus of the story is how
he had planned what in his mind was the perfect crime and seems somewhat empathetic in the
story. The narrator seems to be pleading for his own innocence, quite counter intuitively, as he
talks about how he committed the murder in a desperate attempt to prove his own sanity. To try
this he attempts to rationalize and add reasoning to his erratic and emotionally-driven actions.
He tries to claim that his actions were not that of a madman due to their planned and meticulous
nature. However, what we have talked about so far are merely the effects of the mental illness;
In order to investigate the causes we must look at the narrator’s motive for murdering the old
man in the first place. His motive can be simplified into one main word: terror. The narrator is
completely petrified at the sight of the old man’s “pale blue eye”. The old man’s eye is portrayed
as a completely separate entity and seems to terrify the narrator to the extent where just looking
at it makes him completely terrified. Moreover, the old man’s eye and heartbeat continue to
terrify him after his death, and serve as his guilt and conscience when he is talking to the police.
Moreover, the watchful gaze seems to follow him wherever he goes and continues to add to his
already severe paranoia. This is evidenced by the fact that the narrator confesses to the crime
itself after no pressure due to his own fear that the old man is still alive despite being
dismembered and completely buried. Overall this shows how fear and constant paranoia along
with a mind predisposed to fear and illness can lead to the twisted mind and actions of the
narrator in the text.

The non-literary body of work that I have chosen is a series of advertising campaigns creating
by The Training and Education Center for Mental Health and Suicide Prevention. The campaign
is called “Safe space” and aims to encourage teens and adolescents to speak out about their
troubles and all the pressures applied on them in the constant race to get ahead in Society. This
campaign was launched in 2019 and was created by Yellow after india was declared the most
depressed country in the South Asian Region by the WHO. Used in conjunction with the
hashtag #TheGreatExpectations, the goal was to break down the taboo around suicide and
mental health issues in India.

In my primary example, it depicts the life of a person from infancy to death on one side, and the
life of someone who suicides in their middle ages, represented by a gravestone after their
middle ages, on the other. This not only depicts the loss of potential and history that are caused
by someone ending their life early, but by putting these two life spans side by side, its shows
how anyone can be prone to mental health issues and that the potential and capability of
suicide, and that in slightly different circumstances, the person could have lived a ling and
fulfilling life. This point is further accentuated by the fact that the images for the top and bottom
of the images are identical. This helps make you realize that mental illness comes in all forms
and that it is not as easily recognizable nor as easily treatable as many believe it to be.

Overall these two bodies of work help you get an in-depth view of all aspects of mental issues.
While a tell-tale Heart focuses on the internal struggle of someone who faces these things and
how they perceive the world around them, the advert shows the consequences that the rest of
the world faces and how these people may appear healthy and fresh, despite facing such
serious issues. Similarly, the advert focuses on how the rest of the world acts to those who are
mentally challenged and what can happen if people are mistreated, while a tell tale heart shows
what can happen if someone who is already in a bad situation is pushed further and how they
affect those around them. These help you understand the struggle that these people and those
around them face and that mental issues are very often caused by extreme stress situations
and that if not treated correctly can lead to people harming not only themselves but those
around them as well.
TELL TALE HEART

True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I
am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all
was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many
things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell
you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me
day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had
never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his
eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever
it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to
take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me.
You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with
what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week
before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it
--oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark
lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would
have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I
might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the
opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so
wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so
cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell
upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I
found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man
who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the
chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring
how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed,
to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute
hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own
powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I
was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I
fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if
startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the
thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew
that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had
my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening,
and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?" I kept quite still and said nothing.
For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He
was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the
death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan
of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul
when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the
world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors
that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I
chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he
had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to
fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind
in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made
a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had
found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black
shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the
unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the
presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a
little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily,
stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the
crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I
gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that
chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or
person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot. And have I
not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I
say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in
cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my
fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried
how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart
increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's
terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me
well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the
dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.
Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I
thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by
a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and
leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and
pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many
minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be
heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and
examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held
it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me
no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took
for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of
all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then took up three
planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then
replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have
detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot
whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha! When I had made an end
of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there
came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I
now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as
officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul
play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers)
had been deputed to search the premises. I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the
gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was
absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I
led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the
enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from
their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat
upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat,
and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting
pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat
and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I
talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at
length, I found that the noise was not within my ears. No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I
talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I
do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in
cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more
vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and
with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I
paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men
--but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I
swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise
arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men
chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They
heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought,
and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this
derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and
now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It
is the beating of his hideous heart!"