Tag Archives: help

At A Loss: Recognizing Schizophrenia

18 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by in mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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Content Warning: Language

 

I walk downtown to a busy Starbucks to wait for my husband to finish his work day so we can walk home together. On my trip to the coffee shop and while I am sitting at a table, I see at least a dozen homeless people. Some of these people are talking to voices only they can hear, waving their arms and cursing at no one in particular. I want to look away but I can’t.

While I sip my coffee, I stare at one woman who appears to be in her sixties. She is wearing a wool coat and gloves on a warm Southern California day. She walks up one side of the sidewalk and then back again, repeating her steps over and over.  She looks as if she is pacing. She begins to yell, “Fuck you!” as people pass her. “Fuck you!” She screams again and again.

I don’t know if she is directing her words at the people on the street passing her or if she is yelling at a voice in her mind. I am almost certain she and I share the same diagnosis. Schizophrenia is not hard to recognize when you have lived with it intimately for over two decades. I don’t approach her. I sit, watching, thinking to myself…no, knowing, that she could be me- a medication that didn’t work, a divorce, the death of a parent, so many things could have placed me in her shoes on this street, yelling.

In contrast, I have a nice condo, in a good neighborhood, and a husband with a job. I try to contribute when I can by writing essays, articles, blog posts. I wouldn’t say life is easy for me, but in comparison to this woman before me?

I work hard for the level of functioning I enjoy. I take my medications with three hundred calories of food twice daily. I try to keep my weight down to avoid severe side effects like diabetes and high cholesterol. I keep pills with me all the time for the break-through of unexpected symptoms. I battle alongside my husband to control paranoia, lack of motivation and anxiety.

I can’t help but think, with the right medication, the right support, and if the opportunities for treatment existed, a network of support was available, would this woman before me fight as hard as I do? I believe she would. I think most people with schizophrenia would. Voices can be terrifying and torturous. Stopping the assault of voices on the mind is like salvation of the religious kind. The silence seems so life altering, in fact, it is life altering.

I want to do something for my fellow-sufferer out in the street, but I know she needs more than a phone number, a five dollar bill, or anything else that I could offer, except understanding and compassion. I have those two things in abundance as I watch her continue to yell, “Fuck you!” and point her boney arms in random directions. She could be cursing me above all others because I’ve been so close to where she stands and still can’t figure out the right thing to do.

A Crisis And A Cry For Help

30 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by in bipolar, mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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I follow a lot of blogs. I follow some cooking blogs, travel blogs, fashion blogs, comic blogs, sarcastic blogs, and hundreds of mental health blogs.

Because I follow many mental health blogs I often read about people’s suicidal thoughts or ideation, and occasionally I read a post by someone who is clearly in a psychiatric crisis (probably psychotic).

I do not know what to do when I read these types of posts. If someone says they wish they were dead, or they are having a hard time not hurting themselves, what is the best way to respond? If someone clearly needs to get to a doctor (psychosis) what can we do?

These types of posts alarm me. I would hate to be the kind of person who says someone is just looking for attention and then have that person follow through on their feelings.

As fellow bloggers what can we do if someone is in trouble? Is there a way to contact WordPress? Would WordPress be able to do anything?

The anonymity of the Internet is great until there is a crisis and you have no idea who the person is typing out a help signal.

With the rate of suicide in this country, a cry for help isn’t something I want to ignore, and neither is someone who has become actively psychotic and may be at risk to themselves or others.

I feel like there are many cries that go out into the blogosphere unanswered; I wish there were a way to answer those calls in a helpful way.

If you have any suggestions, please leave them in the comment section. This situation has me concerned and stumped.

Have you seen these types of posts? What do you do?

Helping Someone In Crisis

16 Wednesday Dec 2015

Posted by in caregivers, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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A couple of years ago, my husband’s father bought a condo near us, so he could spend half of the year here. He lives the other half of the year in France, where he is a citizen. When he and his wife arrive here every year, we help them with their cable bill, medical, insurance, property taxes, etc. They simply don’t know the ins and outs of getting things done in the United States.

I’ve never really thought about how things work in this country until I have had to try to explain them to someone who has never dealt with our “system.” The way we have things set up is extremely complicated.

I know that most people don’t live on the streets by choice, but some do, and others live in camps or trailers off the grid. Seeing how complicated we have made everything, from hooking up your television, to going to the doctor, it doesn’t surprise me that people don’t want to participate in any of it. Don’t even try to fill out the paper work and make a claim to disability or file your yearly taxes, those two things have become almost too complicated for the average individual to figure out on their own.

I can understand how easy it is for someone in a mental health crisis to go from having an apartment, to being homeless in less than a year. During a mental health crisis like psychosis there is no way I could participate in the “system” we have set up. I would be unable to figure out my insurance. I would be unable to figure out the ins and outs of banking. I would be unable to pay my bills online. I would be unable to be an advocate for myself in terms of bills, medical, pharmacy, etc. (I think some of this applies to the elderly, too, particularly those with memory issues).

It must be terrifying for caregivers of people with mental illnesses, learning disabilities, and the elderly, etc. to imagine what would happen to the people they care for if they were not around to help them find their way through the hoops and mazes we have to work through in order to have shelter, heat, food, and a way to pay for those things. We have not made the necessities of life easy for people to acquire and manage.

I know my husband worries that if something happens to him, and I have a crisis, that my life will quickly spiral out of control as bills go unpaid, insurance is lost, and the complicated system we have set up is too difficult for me to find my way through.

With so many pressing problems like gun violence, mental health treatment, terrorism, the deficit, etc. there is no way anyone is going to campaign to make the details of life simpler for those people who are most vulnerable, it just isn’t going to happen, but there is something people can do. If you see someone who seems to be struggling to pay their bills, do their banking, or buy their groceries, call Health and Human Services (Adult Services). An early intervention can keep someone safely in their home and get them the support they need.

Let’s agree to watch out for each other. You never know when you, or someone you love, will need the concern of a stranger to help you survive.

 

Suicide Awareness – To Mike

14 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by in mental illness

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September is Suicide Awareness Month.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Mike, one of my stepbrothers.

I was in my hometown, visiting my dad, along with the man I was dating at the time, named Dennis.

We stopped by Mike’s house and Dennis and Mike seemed to hit it off, so the four of us – Dennis, me, Mike and Mike’s wife, went to the neighboring town to go drinking and dancing.

We laughed hard that night. We danced together, and drank too much.

If I had known it was going to be the last time I saw Mike, I wouldn’t have been drinking at all. I would have talked about our childhood, our parents (my dad and his mom- who were, and still are, married to each other). I would have asked about his hopes and dreams. Of course I would have listened for something, anything that would have given away the darkness he must have been dealing with.

As far as my memory stretches back, I have known Mike. He and his family (three other boys and their parents) were our neighbors from the time I was three-years-old to the time I was nine. Mike was the same age as my oldest brother and they were in school together. None of Mike’s brothers were exactly my age, but I did attend the same school as the second to the youngest for a while.

Mike didn’t have much to do with all of us younger kids but of course he was there at the Thanksgiving dinners and other holidays we shared together. On one Thanksgiving he helped my brothers and his brothers stuff my Mrs. Beasley Doll into the toilet and flush. He was a part of the neighborhood where I was the only girl among nine boys.

He was always a part of my life even if I didn’t get home to see him that often.

The loss is the most intense for his two girls, his three brothers and his mom. Every time I see them, I think about the hole that is now in their lives. I think about the grief that they must carry and the what-ifs, and the how-comes, and all the other possibilities and questions.

Mike left behind his kids, and if he were alive, he would be a grandpa, but suicide took that all away.

If you are suffering, or you know someone who is suffering, please get help. I know it is cliché, but it is also true, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” You can come through depression or symptoms of your mental illness, and feel joy again. It is too late for so many, but it is the right time for thousands – reach out, tell someone, grab a line to life, let someone else give you the strength to live when yours is depleted. There is help.

This is in memory of Mike. I wish my dad still kept me updated on your life, and that I could drop by your house instead of your grave when I am in town. I wish I didn’t have to think of the pain your mom feels. I wish so much…

Peace out, brother.

Being Mindful of Others

29 Saturday Aug 2015

Posted by in hope, writing

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I am carrying my problems. You are carrying your problems. Everyone we meet has bills to worry about, a flat tire, a sick kid, a dying loved one, a sore back, hurting feet, a fight with their partner, or countless other things. I forget sometimes. I forget.

Yesterday after getting our car fixed, my husband and I stopped at a Mexican restaurant to get lunch. We don’t usually eat at chain restaurants, but this is one where we enjoy a few of the menu items.

I ordered a chopped salad (no meat), extra avocado and dressing on the side. My husband ordered a rice and bean bowl. When our meals came to our table, I let out a sigh of disappointment and said, “This is just lettuce.” The woman who was serving it said, “Is there something wrong?”

“Usually this comes with cheese, and chips and salsa fresca.” I said.

“Here is the salsa fresca. Would you like me to bring you some cheese?” She asked.

By this time, I was so disappointed with my bowl of shredded lettuce that I couldn’t see a way out. I told her, “I don’t care. Do whatever. Just do whatever. It’s just lettuce.”

My husband told her to bring more cheese and salsa fresca. When she returned, I told her, “I always order the same salad when I come here. It has never looked this bad.”

She said, “I knew when it came out of the kitchen that they forgot to add the cheese and salsa fresca.”

“This just looks so bad.” I said.

“I will give you a refund if you want.” She said

“I don’t care.” I said.

“Do you want more chips, salsa, and cheese?”

“I don’t care.” I said.

“I’ll get my manager.” She said.

Then the manager came over with a big container of cheese, more salsa fresca, a bag of chip to put in the salad, our money back from both meals, and a coupon to eat there the next time for free.  My husband and I were both shocked, and told her, “Thank you.”

At that point, I felt like such a badly behaved adult. Instead of just ask for more of the things I wanted, and keep my spirits up about it, I had let myself become negative toward someone who only wanted to help me. My husband, always considerate of other people’s feelings, went to the server, thanked her, and started up a nice conversation with her.

She came back to our table, and she said, “Is everything okay now? I saw how sad you were and I didn’t want you to be sad.”

“Initially, I was so disappointed that was all I could think about, but I am happy now. Thank you so much. We come here and I always order the same thing. I was so excited to have the salad, and when it came, I just felt so disappointed. I’m great now. Thank you.”

When we were leaving, my husband handed me five dollars to give to the server. She didn’t want to take it, but I insisted.

I need to remember that the weight of the world is on every shoulder and it is my job as a human being to help balance whenever and where ever I can. I don’t want to see anyone go to their knees because things get too heavy. I want to offer a hand, and a light heart. I want to offer a smile and hopefully what they are carrying will be a little less – a little less for all of us, that is what I need to remember.

Yesterday, for a time, I forgot. Thankfully, my husband was there to remind me to have and show heart.

Today, I will have many chances to try again. With every person I encounter, I will extend compassion, because I would hate to add any more weight for someone to carry.

It can be a rough and tough world, let’s all help someone lighten their load.