Today, in the first in an occasional series of longer form pieces, Peter Kinderman reflects on the interaction between his genetic inheritance and his personal experience, and considers what they mean for his own mental health.
My wife once came with me on a Saturday morning visit to a psychiatric hospital. I was collecting data for my PhD, and she met me in the car park of a large psychiatric hospital after I’d conducted my interviews. As I drove away, she stroked the back of my hand and suggested that I could relax my knuckle-whitening grip on the steering wheel. I really didn’t like leaving the residents behind. I wanted to rescue them.