I recently heard a story from a friend of mine about a boy placed in a childrens psychiatric hospital. The boy has been diagnosed with schizophrenia.
One day, the kids were doing a baking project: a handful of steps to great bread. Unfortunately, around the second step, the boy had a psychotic break. By the time he came out of it, he had missed all the steps, except enjoying the freshly baked bread.
He was concerned that he would not allowed to eat the bread with the other kids, because he had been “bad.” But hospital staff explained that he couldn’t help what happened and of course he could share in the bread. At the same time, they suggested to him that when he starts to feel an episode coming on in the future, he should go to the “safe” room.
The staff then took a picture of him proudly holding up his loaf. They printed a copy for him as he enjoyed the warm bread straight from the oven.
Some days later, the staff could not find this boy. He was finally found in the “safe room” clutching that picture, on the verge of another break.
After the episode was over, they asked him why he had the picture with him.
“I wanted to remember who I am.” he replied.
Note: Given the nature of this post, I am not including any images.