My whole thesis here in a way is to postulate that the mentally ill aren't really "ill".
We know this from hearing the stories of serial killers like Charles Panzram.
These people have simply been denied the ability to express themselves, and they act out the truth in another way,
just as when you plug up a leak in one spot it may find another place to go.
The illness in fact lies with the people who are so terrorized by the truth that they would do anything to avoid it.
Of course the amount of time and energy that is required to untangle the mess is just prohibitive.
I spent my life doing it, and consequently I have nothing, nothing at all.

One of the best insights George Orwell had in 1984 was the devastating and dehumanizing effect of newspeak.
Forcing human beings to lie constantly and deny what they know is tantamount to a dictatorship of mass insanity.
And in order to preserve the illusion of sanity, (although the ultimate goal of this misery, ruling in hell, doesnt seem worth it) you create DOUBLETHINK.
And the proles are somewhat immune, because physical, phenomenal reality is good.
Food is good. Sun is good. Sleep is good.
This is what Husserl means by PHENOMENOLOGY.
The phenomena are actually good for our psyches and can heal a number of pathologies.

As a college sophomore, I was sleeping in bed one night across the small room from my roommate, when I got a phone call from my mom.
The cray cray was at a remote police station in a wooded town, and the police couldnt' get him to take his medicine.
If he didnt take it, they owuld have to forcibly commit him someplace, said my devastated mom.
Since I was the only one the cray cray would speak to, could I come and try to convince him?

Why was I the only one? Because I was not sleeping with his tormentor like our mother was,
but also, and crucially, because I knew in my soul that he was not crazy.
He had been denied the ability to speak the truth and it was coming out in another way.
Was I afraid of the cray cray? Of course I was,
I lived my whole life in terror of his presence and I could not say so,
just as he could not speak the truth, he terrorized me and I could not speak it either.
Men who have dominated psychiatry and created the NEWSPEAK for it starting with Freud,
naturally ascribe everthing to their unrequired sexual desire into which they conveniently lump every single life frustration.
St Augustine is a much more precise philosopher than freud but since he is too darn religious he's not relevant.
So the cray cray would be told that he was sexually frustrated and the way to get well was to vent that frustration on women, which is what he did.
Tragic, but true. Once his partner got money and freedom, of course she filed for divorce.
Orwell left out the historical fact of martyrdom and what was left was porn and Julia,
making 1984 ultimately a very dissatisfying analysis of anything.
My story is not going to leave out porn, but it won't leave out martyrdom either. We need to be thorough to be realistic.