On Track to a Better Life

Several months have past since my last post. The reason being that I have been busy with making a life in Fort Worth. When we last left off I was looking for an apartment to live. I did find an apartment and a roommate. The first roommate was not the best, but we kept our dialogue to peaceful. My life was coming together and I thank God that it was. I could start to function in society once again. Sure there were moments that were very difficult for me, but I am a survivor so I plodded along moving to the goal of independance and functioning once again.

The first thing that I needed to accomplish was to find a position that would use my skills as a teacher and orator. I had a message to deliver to all and that was important. Indirectly, I needed to give hope to all that were in the same boat that I was in and directly, I needed to send a clear signal to my family that I could make it in the world. The last direct message they had given me was that we want no part of you. I was bound and determined to show them, out of anger, that I could definitely make it.

I searched all over for a position. I turned Fort Worth upside down to find work. That is an important message to give those who are in the same state of mind that I was. There is hope and you can do it. I met my case worker and she was an inspiration to me. She pushed when it was important to me and picked my spirits up when they needed to be. I did find a position at the local community college teaching anatomy and physiology. Can you imagine that, a person that was deemed incompetent now teaching anatomy and physiology! I was good at teaching and to this day I am still teaching, part time, the same subject. I have had rave reviews by my students and acceptance by the Dean and Chairman of the Department. So, I look back and realize that I had it in me all the time. All I needed was the support by people, albeit not my family, and the gumption to do it.

I tried to make connection with my family, but to no avail. The wanted nothing to do with me. The holiday season was the hardest and most difficult. You see to me the family was the central part of my life and not to have them, be as dysfunctional as they were, was devastating. Here I would like to not something that I hadn't all along. The family of the person who has gone through and continues with mental health illness, needs support. For you see, I am now on the Adult Mental Health Community Advisory Committee. I am an advocate of all those who have mental health issues. I listen to those families that there love ones have been stricken by the disease and empathize with them. I hear and remember how my family was through hell during those years. So, I understand in a way how they didn't want any part of me. However, they haven't given me a chance to demonstrate to them the change that they wanted to see. Instead, they remember all the pain and conditions that they went through.

This is a message to the families of the affected ones, give the loved one a chance and see what happens. Set boundaries, of course, but when you see a change that is desirable praise them and support them. Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. There is some good left in your loved ones. Maybe they have to hit rock bottom first and then make a turn-around. Who knows but it behooves you to make the effort at least to keep in touch with them. I say that now, even though I realize that if I would go back to the family I would put myself into jeopardy of possibly relapsing with the pressures of a dysfunctional family. In reality the I do fantasize of the family. We all do. We have this Norman Rockwell picture in our heads of how the family should be during the holidays and that is not reality. We do need to wake and smell the roses. Family is what you make of those around you. If I haven't said it before, then I will say it again: You are born into a family of origin, BUT you choose your family of choice. Being gay and with a disillusion family this makes it even more poignant for me.

During this time, since my last post, my life has changed dramatically. I have and continue to speak to the staff of Mental Health and Mental Retardation of Tarrant County on my Journey to Sanity. I give the perspective of someone that is in the recovery mode instead in the medical sustaining mode. This is important to recognize, past models basically had the person sustaining the illness with medication with little hope of recovering and become a functional part of society. Currently, there is another model that is being used--recovering. Recovering allows for the individual to function in society, as best as they can, with their limitations. It is a more positive approach to the situation.

In my case, I am working part time; functioning on Boards, such as the Samaritan House and Mental Health Housing along with now having found a wonderful partner. I am fulfilling my life and feeling more functional again. This is not to say that I don't have my pitfalls. The holiday season is upon us and I reflect upon a lost family, albeit strange as they may be. The message here is that there is hope for those affected and effected by mental health illness. It is the perseverance that is important. The family needs to perservere and so does the love one. It may see hopeless at times, but there is nothing that we go through that is not for a purpose. Maybe to help someone else or for self reflection but there is always a purpose if we reflect positively.

Thank you for reading and I will be posting more regularly now.

Baby Steps

So now I am out in the world and stabilized. I had made the decision to live in Fort Worth but I knew nothing of the area except that small portion between Sundance Square and Union Gospel Mission on E. Lancaster. What was I suppose to do?

The Social Worker from the jail had assured me that I would be living in a group home and that I was to call the manager once I was released. I called him but there was no answer. I proceeded down familiar roads carrying a bag of clothes and what little money I had made at North Texas Hospital. You see because I was doing well at the facility; they have a work program earning money shredding paper. So with that money I proceeded out into the world. The bank was closed and I was in a strange but familiar city.

I asked a gentleman, at the bus stop, where there was a place to spend a nite? He told me that there was a place off Lancaster that was ok for $30.00 a nite. So, with bag in hand, I proceeded to take the bus to Lancaster and found the motel. It wasn't the best place in the world but it was shelter. It had a bed and some amenities so it would be better than spending the nite out in the cold. During the nite I thanked God that I was alive and I would call the manager of the group home in the morning. I could barely sleep because of the noises I heard and the anxiousness that I felt, but I tried.

Early the next morning, I awoke and called the manager. He responded that he would pick me up and take me to the group home. I anticipated the worst and expected the best that I could get was a room to stay. When the manager came we went to the East side of Fort Worth and I was amazed to see the homes in the area. I was, however, warned that I shouldn't walk during the nite and I knew what that meant. This wasn't the best part of town.

I met all the members of the group home and was amazed to see that I was in a home with individuals that were in worst shape than I was before. I was befriended by the house manager and started living in a group setting. The first nite was the hardest because I had to go through an initiation by the members. One of the members of the home, placed an empty can of beer in my clothes. I, however, saw this and made a statement at the house meeting that someone was trying to put me into jeopardy of being kicked out of the home. This was resolved with a strong message by the manager and was resolved immediately.

I proceeded through the weeks that I stayed at the group home to find my way through Fort Worth. I remember indeed that one day I tried to contact my family and was rebuked by the statement, "we do not know you." So here I was alone in Texas starting my new life. The first thing on the list of twenty-one things to do was to get a driver's license. I attempted several times to find out how to get my license and this took several trips to the Department of Public Safety. Finally I did receive my license after taking both a written and driving test.

I started looking for a job to support myself by going to the library and writing my resume and starting my search of local teaching positions. I also was very fortunate to start building my church family by finding Agape Community Church. It would take two buses and a two mile walk but I attended regularly. I was befriended quickly and started building a network of friends. In all I was building a network of support and had strategically placed myself in a position that I could move out of the group home in several months.

This brings me to the point that I would like to make with this post. I observed all eight members of the group home. Some of the individuals were clearly bound to stay there for the rest of their lives, but there were some individuals that could make the transition back into society by being productive. However, they didn't. Why? I kept asking myself. Was it because they had not the motivation to try and better themselves. Was it because they could live comfortably on SSI or SSDI and didn't have the stimulus to try. I will never know the answer to that question, however, I knew for myself I would try to better myself and move into an apartment in Fort Worth so as to become part of society once again.

This is an important question I believe for all social workers to address. What motivates my consumer and how can I get him or her to move beyond their circumstances?

Thank you for reading.

Part IV Goldilocks and the Police

The date is October 31, 2008 and I have been wandering since September 3, 2008. I have made my way to Dallas/Fort Worth the long way you have to say. I have lost all that I own, my documents and my dignity. Now I truly look like one of the homeless without anywhere to go. I am completely delusional and can be seen walking Sundance Square talking to myself and picking up bits of food here and there. I have lost 50 pounds and my clothes, lent to me by Union Gospel Mission, barely fit. I walk aimlessly but no one stops and asks can they help.

I have the survivor instinct and stay away from large crowds, but then I do something that I don't believe myself. I go to a financial institution and open a bank account. I don't have any money but deep inside I know that my check will be arriving soon, November 3rd. The people there are very friendly and make sure that the transaction goes through so the deposit will occur without any problems. What I don't realize is that the whole process will take time. This poses another question for loved ones, mainly, do we allow for finances to be available when a loved one is in a manic state? I don't know the answer to this question, but I believe for the safety of the individual it would be in his/her good interest. It would also allow the family to tract down where they, the loved one, has been. Giving a lead to find them and rescue them from their disease.

I have digressed, but now let us turn to that day October 31st. I have made contact with the Vice President of the financial institution and have his card. It is getting cold and I start telling myself that it is time to find a place to sleep. Well there is a bed and breakfast in Fort Worth that I am able to get into and an lo and behold there is an room that is unlocked. Just like Goldilocks I find food and commence to eat it. I take a shower and go to bed. Well, I am awaken by the police who want to know how I got into the room. I tell them that the Vice President, I have the business card, told me to come up to this room and make myself comfortable. They don't buy that I and I am whisked in handcuffs to the holding cells in another part of Fort Worth. I am convicted with trespassing. I am then placed in jail and I don't have the bond to be released.

I spend time in jail until they begin to determine that I have mental issues whereby I am sent to North Texas State Hospital and labeled incompetent. At this point I have experienced being in jail first hand and what it is like to be in a state hospital. I argue that I am not incompetent but the meds have not taken hold yet. It takes three months for the medicine to work and during that time I begin to reconstruct this journey which I have had. My brother tries to get executorship of myself but I am lucid enough to fight it. I continue to get better and realize that having my own executorship would be best for me. I also realize that this time in the hospital was the best place for me since I have time to think and also time out of the elements. I try to think of the best place to live and start to live a new life. It then comes to me that, you wanted to live in Texas, this is your opportunity.

By the time I am out of the hospital, I have totally regained my faculties and able to process what I needed to do in order to survive. I have decided to live in Dallas/Fort Worth. Since the family has totally written me off, it would be best for me. Time to start a new life. Meanwhile I had lost all that I had in Florida, all my possessions, but I have my health and can start again.

There is a message in this post and that is, what type of training does the police officials have in determining the mental status of the people they are arresting? This could be an area for further development of inservice programs for them and the jail. This post is not intended to slam the authorities but give them further guidance as to how to improve and catch those who fall through the cracks. I applaud the social worker at the jail when I returned from North Texas State Hospital for her persistence in getting me on my way in a group home and maintaining my medication from the county. I was now a consumer of services from MHMR of Tarrant County.

Thank you for reading and trust that it gives you further food for thought.

Part III Plight of the Homeless - Dallas/Fort Worth II

I have now arrived in the Fort Worth/Dallas area and am completely insane if that is the best way of putting it. I am completely delusional thinking that I need to walk and that is what I do...walk and walk and walk. I really don't have any idea why I walk when I am delusional I only know that there is a drive for me to walk. I start losing weight by the pounds because I am not eating either. What meager food that I am getting is coming out of the garbage that someone has thrown out. I am resembling one of the many homeless that you find on E. Lancaster Rd in Fort Worth.

I start my vigilant walk and then notice that there are some services that I can take advantage of at the Day Resource Center for Tarrant County. I am somewhat lucid that I can understand people and act shall we say normal, however, I have been off medication for a while. Does it come to me that I have missed my meds and the answer to this is NO. Instead, I start visiting the Union Gospel Mission, Salvation Army and the Day Resource Center. I observe the people and watch and see that some are doing this for a career while others are not.

I come across a young man that should be at the 10th floor of the JPS but he and I strike a friendship. I am able to relate to him and start speaking to him in great detail. The funny thing is that he is catatonic and doesn't move. I put a flower in his hand and lead him around for food and shelter. I in the meantime have the instincts for survival and continue between shelters and soup kitchens to maintain myself. But I am walking 10-15 miles each day and don't really know where I am going other than from Lancaster to Sundance Square and back. I am the one that you see picking up cigarette butts and smoking them. The one that is talking to no one around and even arguing with myself. No one cares and keeps their distance from me.

Now over a year later I wonder why did I do walk. What type of survival instinct kicked in and allowed me to walk and go to soup kitchens. Was I partially lucid or did something deep inside of me told me to continue no matter what. At one point it was getting so cold that I laid on a park bench shivering and wondering would I survive the night. For you see, the county only allows 3 nites a month to be spent in the shelters. Where you spend the other 27 nites is really up to you. In here is a message of compassion that I believe the people need to address. Where do we allow these people to stay in the cold and rain? Can we find an alternative other than sheltering them so that their housing can be taken care? You have to see E. Lancaster to understand how many people are waiting for a place to spend the nite and get some sort of food.

This poses another question also, "how can we as a society allow people to survive as homeless people?" I as many realize that resources are limited if not existent, but where is the compassion of the people? Where did we stray as people to allow our fellow man to go without food and shelter because they have fallen on bad luck? These are questions that I ask my fellow man. These are hard questions but I would like to digress a bit for an example. In all my walkings throughout the country I can count on one hand the amount of people that helped me out with food or a few dollars.

The one that is most vivid is in DC where I stopped to rest in front of Chinese fast food restaurant. Here the owner instead of pushing me away made motion was I hungry. He came out with a bowl of rice and cold water. The only request that he had was that I sit a bit farther from the entrance of the restaurant. This folks is compassion. This is the love for your fellow man. Can we all say that we would do the same next time you see someone that was in my condition to lend a helping hand?

Well I have digressed, but I wanted to make a point that my homelessness had made on me and I hope that it is making on others who read this post. Search deep in your hearts to see what you would do if you were in this predictament. East of the Mississippi, I came across only 5 people that would help out someone in that was in need. This is sad because the plight of the homeless is growing and still we are not addressing the problem. Are they homeless because of choice or are their circumstances ones that can be addressed. In my case, if a medical professional had seen me, would I still be walking the streets of Dallas/Fort Worth? Or would I have been swished to the 10th floor of JPS for an evaluation? Would the police, which I would encounter in a later post, evaluate me and bring to JPS? These are important questions that we are Fort Worthonians need to ask ourselves. How many can we help in Tarrant County and what is the best way to do so?

Thank you for reading and I hope that I have given you some food for thought.

Part II Plight of the Homeless I

Well, it is the 3rd of September, 2008 and my social security disability funds have been transferred into my bank account. At this point in time, I am completely delusional and believe that I am having to leave Florida because I have an interview in San Antonio, Texas with the University of Texas personnel. Why Texas, I will never know but the only potential reason that I can come up with is that my x-inlaws lived in McKinney, Texas and I was attracted to that site. In the previous Forrest Gump I, I was attracted to the ocean. If there is a message here it is that when, God forbidden, your loved ones start a walk it is to look at what they are attracted to and search for them there.

Let us focus now to the Forrest Gump II. I walked to the nearest motel with my briefcase carrying all that I would need for an interview plus important documents and a small carry on suitcase with some clothes. I then went to Tampa International Airport and purchased a one-way ticket to San Antonio. On the flight to San Antonio, I would re-examine my documents because I was positive that I would be able to procure a position with the University. If I had stopped and thought about it in a sane fashion I would realize that with a Master's degree I would have had a hard time procuring a professorship at U of T. In any event, I landed in San Antonio and proceeded to rent a car. I couldn't because I had a one-way ticket and ended up taking a taxi to the southside of San Antonio. There I found out that U of T was on the northside so I took another taxi to a hotel closer to U of T.

I had brought some pills but not all of them. I swore to myself that I didn't need them and that this was only an emergency situation. Because you see, in my delusional state, I was convinced that I needed to go to George Washington University Hospital and debate their assessment of my mental condition. Instead the walking started again. Not knowing the city at all, I started walking on the northside of San Antonio and spent a week trying to get back to the hotel. Luckily, I had left my checkbook and important documents with the concierge of the hotel or I would have lost them there is San Antonio. This walk without food or water proceeded until I returned to the hotel, changed clothes and managed to get to the airport one more time bound for DC. My mood was one of agitated and yet it was functional. You see I had worked on years of having a facade of a totally sane person. My intellect was working and it was only that my conclusions were off. Another point to be brought out is that when someone is delusional it is not like they are totally space cadets, they can and most likely are stating facts it is just that the conclusions are off base.

I headed to DC with limited funds and this time without the medication. When I landed in DC I was bound and determined to find George Washington University Hospital. So, though I had my faculties I started my journey. I kept my bag of important documents in hand and sought out the hospital. This lead to walking DC day and night. I started to look more and more like a homeless person. So, how does a homeless person really look. The answer is a little ragged on the edges. In DC, I kept my distance from the police and just kept walking. I was starting to loose weight but didn't look too bad. I visited soup kitchens and stayed at shelters. I was a survivor and was bound and determined to find this hospital. I did find the hospital eventually, and was seen several times with headaches which is the side-effect of lack of my medication. However, they, health care personnel, couldn't find anything wrong and would feed me a sandwich. So I would start my walk again in the cold and wet DC.

At one point, I was looking more tattered and had no money left. I was walking to George Washington University Hospital, when a homeless person was stationed with his belongings near the hospital. He begged for money, I had three cents left. I offered him a penny. His response was condemnation and that he would give me a dollar to get away from him. I thought to myself I am giving something I barely have and he is so ungrateful. I know that this is the perception given to those who are unfortunate to be homeless but look deep into their hearts and examine what their condition is or is not.

It was getting colder in DC and it was closer to October when I became more concerned with getting to Texas. Instinctly, I knew that I would have to escape the cold and move south. One evening when I was walking the streets of DC it became so cold that I hid myself behind a waste basket at the entrance of the Metro. I thought that I would die right there because all I had was a pair of shorts, a shirt and sandals. I am a survivor and I picked myself up and decided that this was not going to be the place that I die cold and hungry. I started walking to the police station that was near there and met another homeless person who gave me a sandwich to eat. He directed me to Grand Central Station. This was the middle of October and my social security disability funds had come in again. However, I didn't know how much or little there was in my funds. I boarded a train with what I had left in funds I thought I had and headed to Dallas, Texas.

**A note to take is if the family is able to track their loved one on a walkabout try to trace their expenditures to find out what they are doing. The thought does come to mind that you can stop the funds from being spent, however, the dilemma is that they will be left penniless and out on the streets. Maybe another way would be to limit their funds instead of giving them free access.

You can only imagine the looks and stares that people had as I boarded the train. This was the first train ride that I had and I was making all sorts of friends on the train, I thought. I was in a talkative mood by then and just about talked to every tom, dick or harry. At one point, the person sitting next to me gave me a bar of soap and told me to go into the bathroom to clean up a bit. I did and that seemed to elevate the problem a bit. So I was on my way to Dallas. The train went from DC to Chicago and I was getting worse by the second.

When I boarded the connecting train from Chicago to Dallas, Texas Eagle, I was in bad shape. I was in very bad shape. I started walking up and down the train and greeting everyone there. I called myself the train's greeter and made sure that everyone knew about the train's destination and mode of getting there. At St. Louis, the train stopped and had a problem. We were asked to disembark and I never returned to the train. Again, I started my walking with briefcase in tow. I walked all over St. Louis for a week. This time the delusional portion had given way to me talking to myself. So the next time that you see someone talking to themselves DO not think they are crazy, they may be just out of meds!!!

I will stop here because it is a good place for discussion of the homeless. When we see the homeless we think of them of being worthless people not even worth the ground that they are walking upon. However, do we really know the walk that they are taking? Do we know the situation that has brought them to this point? Do we know if it is a medical condition that has brought them to this condition? I ask you next time that you see a homeless person, don't run, just ask yourself what if I was in that condition, what would I want a passerby to say to me. Now, I am not talking about the homeless who are begging for money, I am speaking to the ones that are on the park bench without the bottle in the wrapper. The ones that are talking to themselves without anyone there. These people need help and we can and should help them. Even if it means that we just sit down and get to know there problems. You may be surprised to find out all about them and yourself.

Thank you for reading and I hope that I have given you food for thought. Plight of the Homeless II will be posted next on the Fort Worth/Dallas episode.

Forrest Gump II (Part I Off and Running)

As you are well aware at this point in time, there has been a walkabout I which I called Forrest Gump I. Well unfortunately for me there was a second walkabout which we will call Forrest Gump II. In this post and the future parts of the parts of this post, I will attempt to describe the turmoil and pain that I went through during each of these life long lessons.

The first question that is always asked why did you walk from the home from Florida to Texas. This is a hard question to answer, for you see I don't have a clear cut answer to that question. Instead, I have a vague understanding of the conditions surrounding the beginning of the walk. As you may recall, loss for me is very difficult. I am not speaking of loss from a job or everyday up and down, instead I am speaking of the loss of family.

During that time, I had lost my partner who was estranged from me. He and I decided to break-up after 4 years of turmoil. Even though he was a special ed teacher and well educated he did not understand mental health issues. As matter of fact, who truly does as a love one understand the makeup of mental illness. They are innocent bystanders trying to grasp from the outside in what is happening to their loved one. In this case, my partner did not grasp and was very fearful of his own health even though there was no rational reason to be so. Our relationship ended in much turmoil as does many heterosexual divorces. In reality there is no difference between straight and gay relationships they are basically the same.

I diverge here but let me explain that after the breakup and three mediations for the stuff that we accumulated my mental health started to deteriorate. I had no support by my family who had ostracized me for the relationship and whatever conversation that I did have with my brother was curt and given the advise of keep a stiff upper lip. Without the moral and emotional support from family and friends I quickly started to deteriorate. In addition, my financial picture was drained and I started not taking my medication. I may add that as this began, my rational thinking went down the tubes. I bought a car that I couldn't afford and that along with the burdening legal fees drowned and drained me financially along with emotionally.

I started telling myself that I was ok and that these pills that I was taking in the past were not needed at all. I started connecting with the previous walk in 1996 as to that I was correct in my assumption that I was not ill and the whole world was wrong. This is a common thread with all people who have mental health issues. They don't believe, I was one myself, that we need the medication. I have often wondered if people who don't take medication regularly understand the complications with taking the medicine. I touched upon this issue when I posted, "Chemical Soup." The side effects for taking the medication, in the eyes of the participant, outweigh the benefit of the medication.

I digress here, let me refocus and tell you that during this time I started to become delusional and all the memories of the past walk and others became very vivid. I believed that space ships were in the courtyard and all sorts of things related to sci-fi. I was an avid sci-fi person so many of the threads of my thoughts came from this point of view.

I do have a theory on how the brain operates, that if we could envision a strand that has many adjoining parts to it. In normal circumstances, the strands do not jumble together but there is a smooth connection. When there is a chemical imbalance the synapses start firing at different levels and those strands are missed reconnecting in the inappropriate order. Under normal circumstances the order would be a to b to c to d but under imbalance they may be a to z to f to g and so forth. That is my theory on trying to explain how some of the threads were accurate but the conclusions were all messed up.

This was the beginning of my Forrest Gump II the delusional part and lack of support of friends and family. I was all alone not taking my medication and getting worse every day. I would start walking in Florida soon though. A walk that would lead me to Texas. In Florida, daily I would walk from the apartment to some other part of the city and walk back. Was this walking a preparation of my long journey to Texas. I do not know. All that I knew was that I would walk from one part of Bradenton, Fl to the other in the heat of 90F without water or food. My pantry was empty and I had no money with me. My social security disability would not come in until the 3rd of September 2008.

In reflection, I was preparing to take the walk of my life. I started packing my clothes in a small carry on bag and the most important documents that I thought I would need. I began telling myself that I was going to go to San Antonio to interview for a position at U of T. Why Texas I don't have the foggiest idea but the road to Texas would bring me to San Antonio to DC to Chicago to St. Louis and to Dallas/Fort Worth.

My message to clinicians/caregivers and the like is quite simple start observing the behavior of your loved one and determine if there are changes. Are they eating right, what are they saying about themselves? Do they seem agitated over something? Instead of confronting them try to talk to them and determine the facts without intruding too much in their life. Then let the physician know so the appropriate observations can be made by the medical personnel. They have better techniques in determining what is happening. Above all things, do not put shame and guilt on the table of the loved one. They already know what it feels like to come back and rebuild their lives without the added burden of your guilt upon them.

Thank you for reading.

So You Have Mental Illness

As you are well aware at this point, I fought like the dickens to not accept my illness. I would not identify with it at all. I had at this point even tried to work as the 8th grade Science Teacher but that ended in failure. I had to ask myself at this point, was I really being realistic or not. Were all the people surrounding me correct; I was disabled with mental illness.

It took me years to finally accept the fact. So, now what do you do with your life. I had many opportunities to volunteer as I mentioned before but none of them stroked my fancy. I tried some but my life was a shambles. I needed more in my life and I didn't know how to get it. My family who had ostracized me from their lives were not there to condemn me for trying to teach. However, the surrogate family, which was my partner's were. They tried to encourage me to think about getting involved with volunteering.

Here is a point that I would like to bring forth, no one professional or otherwise could assist me in determining what I could do with my life. It wasn't like I was in my late 70's, I was in my early 50's and could still participate in society. As I mentioned before, many professionals would say, "Just sit and relax; you worked hard in your life."

Finally, now almost 20 years later, a therapist did mentioned something which was a turning point in my life. He said, "you are not the disease, but you have the illness." That was so important to me to understand that I like the rest of the world had a health problem, but I didn't have to identify with the problem. I was an individual that had a health problem but I was not the health problem. How many people walk around and are told they have this disease or that but do they really identify as being that disease? This was a pivot point in my life and one that would change my whole outlook to the direction that I would and can go.

Now once this information was integrated into my mind I looked at all that I had done and said to myself, well, that was a wrong way to handle this disease. I started looking at the disease as an obstacle that I could go around or over not one that blocked my path. It WAS passable and I knew that I could do something about it. So, I went into teaching again but this time knowing that I could not handle 8th graders; went into teaching college students. I enjoy this and know that the horizon is wide open to me. I know that I have limitations but they are manageable. My second message to professionals is to allow the consumer to understand that they ARE NOT THE DISEASE but they have an illness.

Thank you for reading.

So You Want to Work

As I mentioned before, my identity was tied into my career. Who I was as a professional was so important to me that I search endlessly trying to find that niche again. Though it may sound crazy, I didn't want to be known as disabled all the rest of my life. My family and friends kept saying, "You have worked all of your life, enjoy this, call it retirement." Hell, at my mid 40's to retire was to say to me why don't you spend the rest of your life in hell itself.

You may recall that in previous posts I mentioned the Ohio Rehabilitative Commission. The best that they could come up was a greeter at Walmart. No way was I going to spend the rest of my life as a greeter at Walmart. That type of job was exactly that a job not a position. I wanted to be challenged. Damn I was challenged with my medication but I at least had to have some sort of self-worth.

I thought let me first volunteer, there are plenty of volunteer positions out there that I could do. So, I volunteered for the Master Gardeners of Lee County and became one myself. It was challenging to go to school again but it gave me back my self-esteem. I succeed so much that I was on the Board within a year turning everything upside down. That wasn't enough I felt like I was thrown a bone which had no meat on it. So, I went into the Master Paster Program from the church I was attending. Still no satisfaction. I was hunting for something, somewhere that would fill the void in my life.

There is a message here, mainly, where are the governmental programs for those who want to transition out of the security net of social security into the working world once again? Don't get me wrong the thought of working scared the hell out of me, but I needed my self-esteem and self-worth again. Family members were furious with me because I wasn't satisfied in sitting home and watching tv or amusing myself around the house. Maybe for someone else this would be satisfying but for me it sure the hell wasn't.

Finally, I did a self analysis of my career and went through all the aspects of my positions that I had in the past. I was a consultant, director, manager and now I had to figure out what I wanted to be. The common thread that I found in all the positions was that I enjoyed teaching various aspects of my fields. Well, I thought with that revelation I need to teach. Where could I teach? I had a Master's of Science degree not a teaching degree. Given that I was driven not to stay home I decided to look at the local schools and with a lot of hunting found a position as an 8th grade Science teacher.

Well, I thought that is the answer I can teach 8th graders. Lo and behold I had another thing coming. First, my family and friends were upset with me that I would try to work. Here is another point for the families of those of mental health consumers, the road to recovery also is paved with the self-worth of the individual. If the individual can work in some sort of capacity that gives them satisfaction, let them do it. The worst that can happen is that they will fall, but be there to catch them.

In my case, I had under estimated the mental capacity of 8th graders. It takes a very special person to handle them. First their hormones are raging and second they believe they know the answers to life. I lasted one year and then with great remorse had to resume my life on disability. The stress was way too much for me and this only gave fuel to the fire of my family that I shouldn't work ever again. Instead of catching me as I fell, they simply ignored the fact and told me, "I told you so." Years later I refined my search for a position and now have been an adjunct faculty member at a local college. In a way it is my way of saying, "I told you so."

Again, I repeat myself, however, case managers heed this message. Look deep into the soul of your client and determine what they can do in life to build up there self-esteem. Granted some consumers will not be able to do much but others may. Above all things take each consumer as an individual and try not to pigeon hole them into the slots that you perceive are available. THINK OUTSIDE OF THE BOX.

Thank you for reading.

Identity Crisis

In my previous post I spoke about going onto disability and the impact that it was having on my life. In this post I want to explain the turmoil that it brought me with the revelation that I could no longer work again.

You see as a man, gay or not, the utmost importance that is placed on him is that he provide for himself and others. His total existence, as defined by society, is what do you do for a living. It was very hard for me to answer that question, "So what do you do for a living?" My answer was always meekly to say well I am on social security disability. This statement brought all sorts of looks and comments but never the one that I wanted, mainly that of appreciation of what I was doing for society.

I had been stricken down in the peak of my career. I had been recognized as a national leader in my field - Environmental and Occupational Safety and Health. I had been a Chairman of the National Safety Council, Healthcare Section; member of the American Hospital Association Occupational Health Committee and a guest speaker at numerous Congresses for the National Safety Council.

Now, without these titles, my self-worth was gone. I was angry at what had happened and instead of venting my anger outward it festered inward. Family members tried to understand this but kept reassuring me that this was good for me to be on disability. Even doctors kept saying, "You have worked long enough time to retire." I fought this vehemently because my brain, even though it was screwed up, still functioned. I was who I was because of my hard work. Yes, I was a father, husband and all of that but the illness had stolen my identity from me.

The Ohio Rehabilitation Commission tried to pigeon hole me into another job, as they put it, but couldn't come up with the proper type of position. Notice that I stated "position" verses job. My faculties where still intact and I needed the self-worth of working on something. I floated from volunteering to even becoming a Master Gardener for Lee County, Florida. Nothing would fill the void that I was experiencing. This would be fine for someone in there 60's but I was in my late 30's.

Herein lies the crux of this post, when society defines you as disabled, what does society do for you when you no longer fit the mold. Many a therapist sat and discussed with me the fact that I was more than just my career. However, the self-actualization of myself was never addressed. Social workers tried to convince me that this was good for me and that I could say I was semi-retired. It wasn't until I found a position as an Adjunct Faculty member at Edison Community College that my self-worth was addressed. My family fought vehemently that I was going to work and would lose my disability. I continued to grow with each position that I took on. I am a survivor so I fought the system to gain myself.

Social Security Disability is and should be there for those who need the security blanket. God only knows, that I still need the security blanket to some point. However, these programs need to address not only security but how to transition people in need of self-worth. Clinicians listen to your consumers when they are talking about what they are doing all day. I know that the thought of being home and being paid for sitting and watching television sounds appealing BUT it isn't on a long term basis for some.

Look at each individual's needs and ask the question, is Maslow's hierarchy being addressed. Is the person going into recovering or are they just existing? Where in our programs can we help this individual grow as a person? Ultimately, by asking questions of yourself you will be doing cost containment and providing funds for others who are in crisis. The road to recovery is a long one and there are many obstacles along the way. By truly assessing each individual as an individual and not a number, you will be helping them. Besides your own self-actualization will be enhanced. Through you, others will grow.

Thanks for reading.

Abandonment - Father's Day

As the title of this post suggest, I am going to speak to an area of my life that heretofore I had not spoken. This post will be out of sequence with the other posts, however, it is warranted given the special day that today is - Father's day. During this day we honor our father's for all the sacrifices that they have given to their children. I cannot say that in the past I wasn't honored, however, now is a completely different situation.

I was a happy man in my thirties given the fact that I had wanted children. All my life I wanted children to give them what I had not had, mainly the fatherly love. You see my father was very distant to me and I can recall many different occasions where he would try in his own way to love me, but it was shallow. You see I and he knew that I was different. I didn't like sports, I hung around with my mother in the kitchen and I liked men...yes, I am a gay man. Many people would say, how could you be gay...you have children. Well being gay doesn't mean that you don't have children.

The draw to have a family was so strong that I forsake my sexuality to have a family. Second the times dictated that gay men didn't and shouldn't have a family. This has changed now and I am very happy that it has. I hope that in my lifetime I see an equality in the marriage arena also. Anyway, I stray from my central point of this piece, that is the abandonment of my family during the coming out process and now.

When I came out to my family, they wanted to put my sexuality under a basket and hide it. You won't and I will not hide my sexuality under a basket was my response. There was much blame going around at the time to answer this situation, but the main focus was well he is gay because he is mentally ill. This took alot of explaining and I still believe that deep down they still believe it.

In any event, no one could understand why a "family" man would be interested in a man. I had a lover at that time that relationship ended in failure. Mainly, because I wasn't true to myself and let him rule my life. It was a clue to my self-esteem which I am still working on now years later. Here is the another portion of this piece - I was abandoned because of two distinct issues: one I was gay and two I, for some on godly reason they thought, wouldn't take care of my mental illness. Taking of the magic pill would solve the problem.

The first is not a choice, you are born gay and that is all there is to it. I might add to the zealots who condemn being gay - "God does not make mistakes and I am not a mistake" Second, the issue of sexuality being a byproduct of mental illness is so absurd that it doesn't even warrant discussion. It demonstrates the fear of the unknown that people have for something that breaks all boundaries in their mind.

Let me refocus to the point of telling the favor that this family did for me. When I was hospitalized the social worker was trying to get in touch with my family for support. There answer was we will talk to him in a year. That was devastating to me at first. I cried myself to sleep nite after nite. Then I received a letter from my daughter telling me at this point in her life that she was not going to be responsible for me. This further devastated me, however, it gave me the push that I needed in life to do what I am doing right now. It told me well, Tony you are on your own now, pull yourself up from this somewhat bottomless pit and hunt for the light. I am not saying that I wasn't scared as hell, but I was frightened. NO ONE to support me emotionally or otherwise.

I did succeed though with the help of professionals. Here, I tip my hat to the professionals. They saw a man who had lost everything and were sympathetic to the situation. I had lost everything but not my will power to live and succeed again. I had lost my possessions, but also my family of origin. Instead of hiding in hole, I just started life all over again. Now, I have an adopted family that call me papa, with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I have a church family and I am quite content. This is not to say that I don't miss or want to know what has happened to my family of orgin but I have accepted that they don't want me. That is ok with me, because other people have and are filling my life.

My message of the day is to reach out to the social workers and case workers who see hundreds of cases. They are overworked and underpaid. It take a special person to become a social worker. My case manager is exceptional for she has held my hand throughout this whole process and I have succeeded to see the light. If you are a social worker look deep into each situation and determine what psychological issues are there that you can assist. Determine what resource, doesn't have to be services, such as lending an ear and giving your time which will truly help the consumer. THE most important part of your position is TO CARE. If you don't care about your consumer they will know and you will not succeed on road to recovery which is necessary for the consumer.

Thank you for reading

Disability - Are you Crazy?

So now after the walkabout, what happened to my employment. Well, I was the Corporate Safety Manager of a large international R & D facility. A lot of responsibility and pressures at the facility. I was in charge of not only the employees but of their client's safety procedures when we did their pilot plant activities. The perception of the directors was that I would not be able to handle the stress and pressures of my role in the facility. I do not blame them, because here is a point that I have been making all along, the general public is not informed and integrated with the affect of mental illness. They have the perception of "One Flew Over the Coo Coo Nest." In addition to this, I was not spending the right amount of effort at work and was very distracted in my personal life. Consequently, a infra-structure restructuring left me without a position.

My doctor, Dr. Kimmel at the time, proposed to me that it was time for me to explore and go onto disability. It came as a total shock to me. I wasn't prepared for this type of turning onto green pastures. I had worked hard all my life and my identity was centered around my career. I had become the Chairman of the Health care Section of the National Safety Council. My career was who I was.

After the initial shock of being told, "You can't work any longer!" I went into a tailspin. I was depressed and anxious, I started blaming myself for everything. I went away from all the support that I had. I simply didn't want to exist any longer. Remember, I was in my mid 30's not in my sixties and this wasn't suppose to happen. I damn everyone; friends and colleagues started disappearing. Another point to support the problem of awareness of mental illness and its impact. People in general just ran away from the fact that a vibrant man had a mental illness. People can accept an illness of anything below the head, but when it has to do with the head forget it; they are scared of it. I personally believe that this blog and other mediums that help address this problem of awareness and education will eventually, hopefully in my lifetime, bring the support needed for those impacted with mental illness.

The battle with social security was a long, one and half year battle. Even though I had enough documentation to choke a horse they kept insisting that I could work. I can only imagine the problems other people had with less documentation of their illness. Eventually, they came around and I was placed on social security. My savings were depleted and I now went from a 60K salary to almost poverty level. What an adjustment I had to make. I am not an extravagant man, but I had child support and alimony to also pay at that time. So you can imagine what a meager existence I was having. I remarried and that helped in the economics of things, but I remarried for the wrong reasons which ended up in divorce, to be explained in a later post.

The impact of disability on me was to provide some sort of income to exist, but it didn't provide me with a livelihood. My identity had been stolen. I searched for years and asked myself the question, "Who are you?" Counselors and therapist would tell me, look beyond your career. In part, I would agree with them but a man in his 30's was having a hard time identifying with this simple statement. Had they gone through the same situation. Damn they had a job, hectic as it may be, they went to work in the mornings and came home. All I could do was take my meds, watch television and of course relax. Some people would think that this was heaven, but for me it was hell. I tried volunteering but had limitations as to what I could do. I even became a Master Gardener for Lee County, Florida. Still no satisfaction. Besides I kept getting sick and hospitalized every year. As I mentioned, I had 20+ hospitalizations.

The point that I am trying to make is that when you are on social security disability, yes it is a form of income, however, what about your livelihood? Some enjoy this form of security, but for me it is still a hindrance to my identity and journey in life. I look at this as being a stepping stone and a security blanket. I am teaching now, part time, and see that also as a stepping stone. I have many good years ahead of me as long as I don't take a Forrest Gump III. I will discuss the Forrest Gump II in a later post.

Thank you for reading.

Aftermath of Forrest Gump I

Well, were does one begin to explain the guilt and humility that comes out of an experience of Forrest Gump I walkabout. Remember that I had walked from OH to FL and was found by my family in a hospital. Instead of being joyous of finding me the family unit was taken aback. They still blamed each other for the episode, none willing to look at the situation as being caused by the illness. Instead, they became over-protective and uninformed.

Fear ruled in their lives that I would take another walkabout at any moment. My identity had been stolen from me. Simple tasks, such as writing in a checkbook was taken from me. What was I to do? I was totally humiliated by the actions that had happened. My pleads to let me breathe were falling to the wayside. Their inability to grasp, why this happened led me to further depression and anxiety.

I remember being brought home and placed in front of a television set with videos to watch. Why wouldn't they discuss with me what had happened. Were they a totally dysfunctional family unit. Wars broke out at anytime regarding who was to blame and how we would repair my financial situation. I was married a second time and my x-wife, was somewhat supportive but she too had fears of me running away again. My keys to the car were taken away from me. I couldn't go the store without someone following me. Let alone go to the bathroom which was constantly interrupted with, "Are you OK in there?" My meds were dispensed like I was an idiot and didn't know how to administer them.

I look back now and realize that they were so scared that they were clutching to my every move to make sure that I didn't run away again. Here is point that I wish to make, where were the health care professionals in all of this process? I am sure that they discussed the after care with them, but did they give them parameters on how to deal with an intelligent person? Did they assure them that treatment now was to give him space to breathe? I don't know the answer to these pointed questions. I only know that the true hell came after the walkabout. Did I have the walkabout because of their actions? No one will ever know the answer to this question, but I feel that when a loved one comes back from such an "adventure" the family unit NEEDS to be educated on how to support him/her. Without that support he/she may just encapsulate and isolate himself for his own sanity.

Life in the fishbowl was terrible. As I mentioned every action/word was scrutinized by the family unit without any clarification by myself. Misinterpretations were quickly brought to the doctor with the statement, "He is going crazy again!" I remember on numerous occasions trying to convince the doctors or clinicians that I wasn't going to do anything stupid again. In their minds the lack of taking the magic pills was the cause of this illness. How do you explain to them and have the emotions stripped from their reality so that they would see the light. One doctor that I had, said your brother is stating that you are getting ill again. It took me months to prove to the doctor that I was taking my medication and not getting ill.

The point of this post is every family unit is different but similar. Family units need to be fully educated and integrated with the true interpretations of signs of mental illness. I leave this to the health care professionals, however, if I ever have an opportunity to discuss my "adventure" with the families affected by mental illness, I most definitely will. I believe education is the key, but integrations into the families understanding is of the utmost importance.

I diverge at this point, however, I remember one doctor who told my ex-wife to shut up and I want to hear from Tony's point of view. It is the fear that has to be conquered and the understanding of the illness not a tug-of-war in whose interpretation of the facts are real. If I could speak to the AMA I would implore them to use their skills in discerning the reality of the patient from the reality of the family units. This friction only causes more problems than solve. In addition, though we ask the family unit to be the eyes of the physician, the information needs to weighed with the reality of the psychological impact the illness is having on the family units.

Thank you for reading.

Forrest Gump I

In the movie, Forrest Gump, the actor starts walking and walks throughout the United States with a purpose. What if there is no purpose to the walking? Well, this is what has happened to me.

Let me set the stage. I have just come out of a divorce with my x-wife losing everything that I cherished so much - my children. I fought like crazy for joint custody but got less than that and my children were still living the episodes of my illness. My illness had gone from a depression to full blown mania. I was hearing voices, though I wouldn't admit to them, my body contorted and I was seeing things which were not there in reality. I had my bags packed in the car, and would take long walks with my dog Lacy preparing for something I wasn't sure of.

My ex-wife came over one night and we made arrangements for me to drive to Detroit with the children to see her dying father. I cherished him so much that I cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning, I awoke and went to work as usual. However, this would be a different day. I gave an in service orientation to new employees and went to the Mac Donald's for a lunch...then the episode started.

I drove, without any map or anything, headed East to Washington DC. I would stop at each radio antenna on the way crying and singing to the music which was full blast in the car. Why I will never know, but I did know that it was as if I was crying out to the world that my life had fallen apart. I made it to DC that night and stayed in a Holiday Inn. I told them that I was a new government official therefore I needed a government discount. I, for whatever reason, was positive that I would be working for the government on Hazardous Waste Management. This is a point that I wish to make, during Forrest Gump episode, it appeared that I was drawing on past thoughts of my life and would continue to do so throughout the next 6 weeks. I was reliving each thought but in a distorted fashion.

I continued my episode in DC as I purchased clothes and a $1,500.00 watch because I believed that I would be working as a Liaison for then President George Bush, Sr. At one point, I was spending so fast that my family back in FL and MI couldn't believe what I was doing. Note to take is that one of the clues that a person is in mania is uncontrolled spending. My credit cards afforded me an opportunity to do so. However, it does not mean that you take all credit cards away from the patient, you may want to put a manageable ceiling on them.

When the police came to find me at the Lowe's Hotel I told them that I was taking my meds and that I had a new position as the Liaison for the President. Had they intervened then, my journey would have stopped. A note to the police, maybe they should be trained in identifying mental illness episodes. After the encounter with the police, I got in my car and drove non-stop to Key West, Florida.

At Key West, I had run out of money and became one of the homeless of the streets. I walked now without medications for weeks. I continued to get worse but managed to survive by eating out of garbage containers, drinking water out of hoses and you can imagine what condition I became. I lost 50 lbs and my feet were down to the bones. I wandered the streets, talking to myself and avoiding all danger. How I avoided danger is through the Grace of God, I believe. There were many times that I could have been killed but I managed to get away from the situation. People would always look at me strangely but NO ONE stopped and said, "What can I do to help you?" Here is a point that I will address in one of my future posts, the Plight of the Homeless, because this was the first of two walkabouts which I had in my lifetime.

It had been 6 weeks and I had been living on the streets all that time. At one point, I took my wallet and discard all my pictures, identification, and what little money I had, leaving just $5.00. Why I did this I will never ever know, but at this point I was totally psychotic. In my mind, I had lost everything that I could think of which was important to me. Loss to me is a trigger, I don't do well with loss. Even today I become depressed when I encounter loss. I don't mean loss of a job, but when I lose all that is important to me, such as my family, a future post, I now become depressed only because I am managing my illness.

I was eventually found in Key West after I had gone to the police department at 2:00am stating, "I don't know who I am or where I am." I was hospitalized at De Poo Hospital, Key West and a long process of regaining who, where and what happened started. I was diagnosed with psychotic amnesia. My family did eventually find me but it took weeks to track me down.

Here is note that I wish to make, if your family member is exhibiting an episode, keep an eye out for them. Are they saying strange things? Have they packed their bags? Are they talking about going to a far-a-way place? ABOVE all things don't accuse them of starting an episode but let the health care professionals know what is going on. Your perception may be wrong but it is better to be safe than sorry. Educate yourself on the moods and changes in their personality that may come about by another episode of your loved one. HOWEVER, don't confront with, "You're manic again we are putting you back in the hospital!" It will only serve to frighten and alienate your loved one. Leave the assessment process to the professionals! Your job is too observe and report to the health care professionals.

It took many years for my family to get over the episode and any move which I took was observed like a hawk. Over protection is not the answer. Educate yourself is the answer to the problem. Joining support groups, talk with the patient's health care providers and above all things BE patient with your loved one. He/She is probably humiliated by what has or will happen. Don't add additional coals onto the burden they are carrying.

Thank you for reading.

I Can't Live Like This

Support is a word that we use when someone is ill and we want to support them through the hard times, but what does it really mean to go through the ups and downs of mental illness? During my illness, my wife and family tried to support me as best that they could, however, they saw the transformation of a virile, gregarious man turn into a non-rational human being. When I look back at those times I can realize what they were going through.

As I mentioned before, my body was not attached to my brain at all. I would contort, talk in strange voices and came up with all types of conclusions which were not rational. I would tell them that, "I feel like pieces and parts that someone has put together. My body is not my own." They would have to sit there and try to understand what was going on with little advice from the health care professionals. All the education in the world from various sources didn't help them. They were living through a virtual hell just like me. They tried to internalize the education, but how do you separate the illness from the person? How do you look at the person and say, I know this is not Tony it is just the illness? You can't and this lead to much problems. There was of course, blame setting among the family members and opinions as to "how" to handle the situation. The were going through a "crash" course in mental illness.

What could they draw upon for their information base? Perceptions and observations were all they knew. NAMI is a good support group for them, but it only gives the perspective of managing the illness from a clinical point of view. In all my experience with them, NAMI had not taken the point of view from the patient to explain to the families the experiences they were going through. I am not here to slam NAMI, because I believe they do much good for the families but I would like to see an enhancement of their emphasis to include the patient's point of view for the sake of the families.

Ultimately, just like in many other crisis situations the marriage broke apart because of the illness and my refusal to accept the illness. There is one point that I wish to make, however, mental illness is not a choice. If I was an alcoholic, I could chose not to drink. With mental illness it doesn't mean that if you take your meds all will go well. (refer back to Chemical Soup) Time and time again the family members would state,"If you take your meds all will be well." The problem is finding the right meds that work at the right time. I don't fault them for their perception, however, I would like to plead to the patient/family educators to emphasize medication problems and the separation of the illness from the patient. Possibly by doing this, more family units will not be broken and the support that is needed will come from this.

One concluding remark is that the family members also need a break from the patient. Give the family members time to absorb the illness and be distracted to recharge themselves from the constant stress. It is a problem in all support situations, be it cancer or mental illness. The family members need a break to regain and absorb what is going on. This is a very stressful situation an it is long term. I have seen many people whose loved ones have mental illness and they are exhausted. This illness effects both the patient and the family.

Thank you for reading.

Chemical Soup

We take medication to get well and in most cases they work with little or no side effects. There is a direct link between the medication and the ailment. If you have a headache, you take aspirin and it is relieve and so on. However, this is not the case with psychotropic medication. It is like taking a shot in the dark sometimes. It is true that there are specific types of medication to take for depression, moods and etc. But the right combination does not come so easily.

In my case, which I guess I was so so special, whatever the docs prescribed for me would have the opposite effect. At one time, I had gone through 25 different medications to get relief. The only thing left was to get medication from Canada which was experimental at best. What a pain in arse it was. The doctors would say that this medication is going to work and it wouldn't. If it was suppose to get me out of depression it would instead put me in a deeper depression and so forth.

Finally, one day we tried seroquel and it worked. The side effects of the medication were terrible for me. I gained weight at the rate of 2 pounds a week. I kept dieting but nothing seemed to work. The doctor would tell me walk, exercise etc... NOTHING on this green earth worked at all. I ballooned to 350 lbs and had complications with other medical conditions such as high blood pressure and diabetes. Those in turn lead to other meds which meant I was a walking chemical soup.

Let's not talk about the side effects from the drugs: no libido, dry mouth, constipation, constant drowsiness, restless leg syndrome and parkinsonian syndrome to mention just a few. All these lead to more medications to combat the side effects. Remember I didn't want to take the meds in the first place so you can imagine how much I would justify not taking after experiencing the side effects. In many of my hospital stays, I would ask fellow patients, "Why didn't you take your meds?" The answer was always the same....Would you like to have all the side effects and then it doesn't work.

Family members please be symphatic to your loved ones. This is a balancing act to find the right medication that doesn't have as many, noticed I didn't mention none, side effects. Seroquel worked only for a short time and then we went onto a new type of med: abilify. It has been working and the side effect are minimal. If there are an pharmaceutical companies reading this blog I hope that you can find medication that continues or reduces the side effects. I for number one, would love to be your guinea pig to test the drugs for side effects.

In closing today's post, psychotropic drugs are NOT regular meds they are sometimes a shot in the dark until you can find the silver bullet that works. Even it works you still don't know for how long. BE PATIENT and learn as much as you can about the side effects. TALK to your doctor and be frank.

Denial - I AIN'T sick

On the path to acceptance the first phase is always denial and disbelief. Such was my journey with mental illness. No matter how much information that came into this thick skull of mine I denied that there was mental illness to blame. Even though I had a genetic background and the health care professionals tried their damnest to convince me with genetics since my mother had the so called "nervous breakdown" that I too was ill, I wouldn't listen.

They tried everything possible to convince me that this illness was manageable and that I would recover but I simply would not listen. I had prided myself on my intellect and was damn if I was going to give in to an illness that impacted my brain. All my life, I believed that it was "brains" not "brawn" that won the race of life. Here I was at my mid-thirties, nationally recognized as a leader in my field and to be stricken by a disease of the brain...NO WAY.

Thankfully, for my tenaciousness, which meant I was a survivor not throwing in the towel I started learning about the illness through the school of hard knocks. I lost everything in the process of taking the hard, long way; my family, friends and colleagues. All went there separate ways as I simply refused to accept the illness. Now 22years later, I have accepted the illness and now that it is manageable as seen by my recovery to sanity.

The point that I am trying to make in this short post is that when your loved one is confronted with the prospect of having mental illness try as you may to persuade them to see the short road instead of arguing with them. Take the time to become fully educated in the illness and using that information try, try and try to persuade your loved one of the fact they have an illness that is manageable. Seek out support groups such as NAMI to help educate yourself and your loved one.

Before parting from this point, I would like to discuss with you how, unsuccessfully I may add, my family tried to convince me to take the medication. When I first was diagnosed with severe depression, the physician prescribed Ativan. My family tried every attempt for me to take the medication even to the point of insulting my intelligence and saying," look there is an A on the medication. It has been made especially for you." Readers please be aware that you are not talking to a two year old when you are trying to give the medication. Instead, try to sympathize with them and maybe you will get somewhere. This becomes an important part of the therapy of the patient. Many, not just myself, patients DO NOT want to take the medication.

Is it because the side-effects of the medicine does seem to validate the taking of the medication? Oh, yes talk to any patient who is on psychotropic medicine and you fine that the side effects somewhat outweigh the perceived benefits. No libido, indigestion, constipation and the list goes on and on. However, I for one now have accepted the medication as being a saving grace for me. I take it regularly and even fight the pharmacy to give my meds on time. There was a time when I took 25 different medicines, some for side effects and others for the disease. This will be covered in a post called, "Chemical Soup"

In closing, sympathize with your patient or loved one in accepting the illness for whatever reason they may have; seek assistance like you have never have before; educate yourself in both the side effects of the medications and above all the illness. Thanks for reading.

Life in the Coo Coo Factory

What the hell is this that I am experiencing. I am in a mental hospital and there is no one familiar to me. I had been a Senior Consultant for a major Trade Association and had done walk-throughs of these types of facilities but nothing was going to prepare me for the over 20+ hospitalization that I would have over the next 22 years.

My initial response, as I mentioned earlier, was to pull back and analyze the situation. What the hell, I had been a scientist before and was disciplined in observing so let me see if I can figure what is going on. The first nite was the worse, you can't imagine the howlings, crying and rushing around during the nite of patients and staff. I stayed in my bed and cryed myself to sleep. About 2am I smelt something like cologne near me and the sensation that someone was watching me. I awoke to find no one there but the lingering of cologne.

Then Magilla the Gorilla, the staff orderly, came by and said,"Anthony, you shouldn't get out of bed and bother the other patients." Hell I was still in my bed what was he talking about. Well it seems that one of the patients was going room to room trying to molest patients and he thought it was me! How insane, I hadn't moved at all. Try explaining to a staff person, that you hadn't moved from your bed...they look at you as "sure, you are the insane one not I!" This brings up a point that I want to bring to all healthcare professionals, DO NOT discount the patients feelings or words. Instead validate them. How do you know what they are feeling, you are observing them but can't possibly be them at that moment.

Over the 20+ hospitalizations, I observed all types of behaviors; adults sucking fingers, slamming their heads against the wall, yelling and talking to no one that was there just like the movie "One Flew Over the Coo Coo Nest." I am not saying that as I became progressively ill that I didn't exhibit the same behavior as my fellow patients but I always felt that I was on the outside and looking in at me. When I would try to explain my observations to family and healthcare professionals they really thought I was crazy. Moral to the story: Listen with intent to the person because they are experiencing it not you.

At one point, when the illness had progressed and no longer was depression, but definately was bi-polar disorder with schzephrenia on top of it, I was told that the only treatment that would work was ECT. ECT is where they place electrodes on your scalp passing an electrical current through them in hopes of realigning your neurons. In the pass they were called, shock treatment. Luckily we have advanced through the dark ages and the patients is asleep during the treatment. I had 6 treatment at one time to bring me back from the abiss.

At one of my hospitalizations, I would talk in strange voices sort of like the exhorsist and my body would contort in all different directions. It was sad because I knew exactly what was going on but the medication and hospitalization wasn't working at all. Every time I was hospitalized, I would walk the halls in circles staying away from the "true" patients. In a way, I was lucky I kept my scientific mind in tact through observations I would attempt to make friends with the ones that weren't that sick. My point being, when you observe a patient, try to go deep into what they are feeling because, hell they are as scared as you are. Their bodies are doing things and they are thinking things that they would never have thought of.

One doctor told me that my thinking was off. It took me years to explain to the health care professionals that my observations were correct the conclusions were off not the thinking. The sensations to my body are still unexplainable, where I would feel hot and cold, smell things that weren't there and all sorts of peculiar sensations. I tried explaining them to my family and health care professionals and the most that I would get was disbelief. So, my point once again, LISTEN, VALIDATE, SYMPATHESIZE and above all DON'T JUDGE. What is the saying, Walk a MILE in my shoes.

During all of my hospitalizations, patient education was a must in all areas of life management, however do we ever train the family in the same sort of thinking. It became evident that I was absorbing the information and learning life management thinking process but my family wasn't. Then when I would try to put into practice the methods I learned it just would work. For example, we were taught how to avoid conflict by saying, When you do such and such, I feel the following. That is assuming that the other party understands and validates your feelings. If they haven't been trained in this area you can forget the vailidation and it will end up as a full blown argument instead. Message to healthcare professionals, GET the family members involved in the same training as the patient.

So the next time one of your loved ones, is going through a manic episode, to be discussed in greater depth later, listen intently and try to put yourself in their shoes. Thank you for reading!

In the Beginning

Well where does one start to discuss the journey that I have taken with mental health. I believe the best starting part would be in the beginning...

In 1987, I had just accepted a position with a Teaching Hospital in Northeast Ohio. I had come from a non-profit Trade Association for Hospitals in Michigan and wanted to get my feet wet from consulting to actually dealing with the issues on a day to day basis. Though I do not regret the move, IT was a learning experience to be in the trenches and deal with the budgetary and compliance issues of a large teaching facility.

The first month or so, went fine at the facility. Then I began to uncover non-compliance issues that would put the facility into jeopardy. I relayed that information to my boss, but he was from the old school and felt that it wasn't a concern. This pressure and the pressures from my old state, where my wife and children were began to cause problems for me. I had handled the pressures from being in a trade association and also being nationally recognized for my field but this was something new for me. The pressure began to mount to a point that I couldn't sleep at night, I became emotional and was losing weight fast.

What the hell was this... I couldn't understand until finally one day I thought of taking my life. The employee physician at the facility confronted me and I just broke down crying and said, "the pressure is too much for me." The next thing that I knew, I was rushed to a mental health facility to be hospitalized. I had all my faculties and here I was in a mental health insitution. Can you imagine living through this situation where it reminds you of the movie, "One Flew Over The CooCoo Nest." Well that is exactly the way I felt. Who were all these people, screaming and yelling, talking to themselves and here I am "sane"? Who put me in this hell hole?

Meanwhile, at the homefront each person was blaming the other for the situation. What a freckin mess. Instead of joining together and trying to figure an intelligent process of understanding what had happened, there was finger pointing and blaming each other for causing this situation. Who was taking the brunt of this was my ex-wife.

I remembered what the doctor was saying as she was talking to the employee health physician, "a mind is a terrible thing to waste!" So here I am surrounded with people that definately needed help and why was I here. Can you imagine being placed in a facility and still not know why. Where your every move is watched and analyzed. My reaction was to retreat and analyze what the hell was going on. This was the first exposure that I had to the mental health system and field. I read much about and took several psych classes in college, but here I was actually experiencing all of the patients with their maladies.

I was diagnosed then as having severe depression and put on a anti-depressant pill. The diagnosis was wrong as we would find out almost 9 years later, but that is the intent of these postings. WE always address mental health from a clinical point of view and from the medical field's perspective. I am planning of giving you an inside to outside point of view of what happened to me. The medical field and family try to look into the situation, they are subjectively or objectively trying to assess, with the best of their abilities what is happening. I was lucky that I retained all of my faculties. My goal is to help families, clinicians and those affected by this illness understand from one point of view what it is like to have mental illness. An important issue to remember is MENTAL HEALTH does NOT equal MENTAL RETARDATION!