Story is here

Trouble

by Alice Woodrome

"Let me in," said the Traveler, knocking on my door."

"Who's there?" I answered back.

"Trouble," came the reply.

"Go away," said I. "I want no trouble here."

"But I bring gifts," the traveler said. "Empathy and Patience can be yours."

"Things are fine the way they are," I said. "Go away and leave me in peace."

Then trouble went away.

How clever of me, I thought, to stop trouble at my door. If other folks were as smart as I, they'd never let him in.

In time I heard another knock, and asked, "Who is it that disturbs my rest?"

"It's me again," said Trouble, "and Pain is with me now."

"I don't want either of you," said I. "Go find somebody else to pester."

"You can't escape us," Pain replied, and they beat on my door till it rattled. "We'll give you Grace if you open the door."

"I can do without your Grace," I said, as I leaned heavy against the door. "I don't need you. I watch out for myself."

"We'll give you Wisdom," they said, "and Depth of Spirit; but first we must become acquainted."

"No, no," I insisted. "I don't want to know you. I'm contented without your Wisdom."

At length they took their leave and I congratulated myself again for being the captian of my fate. I'll never yield to Trouble or compromise with Pain, I told myself.

Next time Trouble came round my door, he brought a fearful pair. Not only Pain was with him now, but Tragedy led the way. They did not knock, they did not call -- Just Bang - my door was down and all three of them were in.

I screamed, I prayed, I bargained; but all to no avail. They unpacked their bags, they settled in, and occupied my life.

True to their word, they brought their gifts. I was given Patience, then Wisdom, and Grace. And if you asked me now if I would I let the Travelers in? I'd have to tell it straight, my friend. It's true the gifts are precious, and I'm glad I have them now, but pound for pound, if the truth is told, they were not worth the freight.

 I heard it again yesterday. A friend, whose daughter has schizophrenia like mine, told me, "I’m not going to talk about her anymore. People just don’t understand."

Most of us with mentally ill family members know the feeling. We are tired of hearing advice from people who don’t begin to know the situation, people who think that our loved ones are being rebellious, lazy, or that they are lacking in morals.

We’ve been tacitly accused of contributing to the problem by being over protective or indulgent and advised to break off the relationship. Worse yet, we might even be suspected of causing the illness by bad parenting or outright abuse. Some of us have had friends back away when it became known that there was mental illness in our family.

The stigma we feel as parents of a mentally ill person is minor compared to the humiliation our loved ones must endure. They are treated with disdain and too often like lepers. The mentally ill truly become outcasts of society. Their illness and plight is usually ignored until society feels threatened, and then they are blamed and treated like criminals.

Stigma is real. Since it is based on ignorance, we all know education is the answer. Those of us who love someone with a serious mental illness long for the day when the public understands that our loved ones have a biological brain disorder and that no one is to blame for their illness. We pray for a day when those with mental illnesses are embraced by an informed and caring community instead of shunned and ignored. We yearn for a time when mental illness is spoken of in the same way that diabetes is.

We have a long way to go before the stigma of mental illness is erased. And we may feel that there is little one person can do to make a difference. But there is something we can do besides hope and pray. We can talk.

When friends inquire about our family, we can honestly share with them like there was nothing shameful about mental illness. We can call the disease by its first name -- schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. When a co-worker makes an ignorant remark about someone who is mentally ill, we can shed some light on the subject, perhaps using our own experiences as an example. If our tone is not confrontational, we can have a powerful influence on those who are listening

There may be those in the family who will caution us against "airing our dirty laundry in public." If we heed that timeworn counsel, then the truth that is hiding in the closet continues to smell like a "dirty little secret." It will take courage to be so open because we may encounter those who make life more difficult because the truth has been spoken. That is the nature of the beast we are battling. But we may find, as I have, that there are many people with mental illness in the family who are just waiting for someone else to speak first. Our example emboldens them to finally talk openly about their own family’s experience.

We don’t have to make speeches or write articles to effect a change in society. We only need to let a little light into our own closets and, one person at a time, our circle of acquaintances will become educated. All some people know of mental illness is what they see on the news when another "mentally disturbed" individual goes off the deep end with tragic consequences.

But when we have shared our understanding of mental illness and our experiences with our friends, they will begin to understand that such tragedies can be prevented if those suffering with mental illness receive proper and timely treatment. They will know that mental illness can and does happen in normal loving families. They will learn that most mentally ill people are not dangerous and can function well if they get appropriate treatment and are given respect. And we may even catch a glimpse of the world without stigma for which we have been praying. We can make it happen -- one person at a time.

Alice Woodrome

                                                                          Index of articles, stories, and poems by Alice Woodrome

Once there were two women who were both named Katy. They lived in different apartments a mile from one another and never met, though their stories are similar. Each worked as a waitress, loved her independence, and owned a cat. They liked to read and tended their little gardens on the balconies of their separate apartments. They were both well liked by their neighbors and appeared neat and friendly to all that knew them.

The most striking similarity, however, was yet to come. A sinister disease began to manifest itself in both of their lives. It started when they began to make mistakes at work, and eventually lost their jobs. Some days they were fine, but there were times when the things they imagined seemed more real than the world around them. It frightened them and they worried that they were losing their minds. They were. They were often disorientated and important things were overlooked, like bathing. They sometimes forgot to feed their cats or clean the litter boxes, and their little gardens died of neglect.

They had difficulty sleeping and were occasionally seen wandering the neighborhood after midnight. Other times they sat for long periods in their apartments and stared at the walls. Neither could concentrate enough to read, anymore. They forgot to fix meals or eat, even when food was brought to them. Their families worried and suggested they shouldn’t be living alone; but both women resisted help, and imagined that those who tried were conspiring against them. Still, when it became obvious to everyone that they could no longer care for themselves, each Katy went to live with family. It didn’t work out for either of them. The Katys became more stubborn and irritable, and very impulsive. Occasionally they struck out violently at those who cared the most for them. No one could handle them anymore. Their families took them to see doctors, where each was diagnosed with a severe mental illness and treatment was started.

This is where their stories take very different turns. One Katy was moved to a nursing home where she is today. A full-time staff makes sure that she is cared for. She is treated with dignity even when her mind is far away and her actions inappropriate. Medicaid began to pay for her needs when her own meager funds were depleted. When she tries to leave the home, as she often does, a nurse gently guides her back to her room or the solarium where other patients gather to pass the time. It is understood that Katy no longer knows what is best for her, and no one questions her need to be cared for in a restricted and safe environment. There are activities, programs, nourishing meals and snacks. Someone combs her hair, does her nails, and makes sure she takes her medications. There are conferences where her caregivers compare notes and plan her treatment. Katy is not free -- but she is safe, and she is cared for.

Our second Katy was hospitalized immediately, where her treatment began. She was prescribed medications and after three weeks she was released from the hospital though she was far from rational or capable of caring for herself. Her family protested, saying it was too early. After she took her pills for a while, though, she got better. Katy thought more clearly and functioned on a limited level.

The side effects were troublesome, however, and she began to wonder if she needed the medication. When she went without them for a couple days, she felt more alert and so Katy decided to throw them away. Her family tried to reason with her, but Katy would not accept that she was ill. Conflicts arose that became worse as her symptoms reemerged. She began to hallucinate and sank deeper into her delusions. Her family tried to get her into a group home, but there were none available for someone not taking their medications. When she became unmanageable they called the crisis center to have her readmitted to the hospital.

They were told that, since Katy was not suicidal or threatening anyone, she could not be committed against her will. She has a right to do as she will, they said, as long as she is not hurting anyone else. When her family reasoned that she could not take care of herself, they were told that, since she had food and shelter, no matter who provides it, she was not in danger. Katy’s family tried again to make her take her medications, but it was no use. The pressures of the situation finally erupted in a family argument and Katy left, convinced that they were her enemies.

She had no where to go but the streets and that is where she is today. Though Social Security sends modest disability checks, Katy can’t gather the wit to find an apartment, so she sleeps at a shelter at night and eats her meals at a downtown mission. She drinks to deal with the hallucinations and lives in fear that alcohol will be taken away from her. Her family doesn’t know where she is most of the time, and when they do make contact, their intentions are suspect. Katy is alone, haunted by the voices she hears and held captive by her delusions.

She is afraid of the streets, but more afraid to go home. There is no staff to care for her – no activities and programs, no one to see that her hair is combed and certainly no one to make sure she takes her medications. No caregiver conferences comparing notes and planning treatment. The vagrants on the street are Katy’s companions. There is no dignity in the way she lives, and no respect afforded her. Katy’s inappropriate words and actions are met with judgmental stares or a turned head, and no one wants to get close to her unwashed body. No nurse gently guides her back to safety. She has the right to be crazy.

Both Katys have a severe brain disorders and neither understands the nature of her illness or its implications. They both deserve to be cared for in a restricted and safe facility by people who understand their illness and who treat them with dignity. The only difference is in society’s perception. The first Katy is 67 and has Alzheimer’s disease. We associate Alzheimer’s with the vulnerability of age and so we appreciate the fragile nature of her disability and provide for her with our tax dollars.

Our second Katy is 31 and suffers from schizophrenia. She is no less vulnerable and her suffering is a national disgrace. She is being discarded by a society that is offended by the pitiful human wreckage that we allow to waste away before our eyes.

Alice Woodrome ©

Go to Alice's Literary Index

How can one have peace in the face of loss?

This is not an easy question, but it is one I've pondered often. And it is because I have struggled with the question personally that you can be sure the answers I offer for your consideration are not merely theoretical. I am not parroting pat answers that come packaged with any particular religion or philosophical persuasion. I don't profess to have discovered anything new, but I am speaking from experience and suggesting what works for me.

I suppose presenting some credentials would be in order at this point, which in this case requires at least a cursory recital of loss. I'll mention two biggies, though there are lesser losses that spring from these two heartbreaks. I lost my only son to suicide in 1987 and then there is the continuing loss of my only daughter to schizophrenia. Perhaps she will not stay lost to me forever, but at the moment, she has chosen to cut off all contact with me and I have no way of knowing how she is doing, and will not know if she slips into psychosis.

Among the lesser losses mentioned is living in a society with the prevailing notion that a mother is somehow to blame for such tragedies. There are many mistaken attitudes surrounding mental illness and few people bother to learn the facts unless it devastates in their own family. But whether you have an enlightened view of mental illness or not, you perhaps can see that there could be a lot standing between peace and me.

I do not offer something that removes the pain of loss or even lays it to rest forever, but I have found a way to be reasonably happy even though my situation is light years from ideal. Much of what I've learned is contained in the simple serenity prayer. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference." Simple words, but when one truly endeavors to live the words, it can indeed generate a level of serenity.

We can't change the past. Whether we are to blame for anything is a moot point, because we cannot go back to correct mistakes or do it all differently hoping for a better outcome. The past is what it is, and that is something that must be accepted. Nothing helpful can be gained by dwelling on the past, nor can anything be gained from living in the future. Goals are good, but investing our emotions in things turning out a certain way is not a recipe for happiness. We have very little control over our lives, no matter how much we wish to or think we do. In a situation that is ongoing, all one can do is practice courage and be ready to help when an opportunity presents.

Not a day goes by that I do not have to remind myself of this when worry or sorrow creeps into my consciousness. It helps me tremendously to focus on today, to enjoy the blessings and opportunities for happiness that each new sunrise brings. We have a choice whether to focus on the negatives or the positive aspects of any particular day.

If we are wise we will heed the advice given in Philippians, "whatever things are true, whatever things are honorable, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report; if there is any virtue, and if there is any praise, think about these things." I've often heard it said that we can't help how we feel, but I don't believe that is totally true. Our emotions often follow an act of our will. If we choose to be happy, we are half way there.

There is a metaphor that has helped me that I'll pass along for what it is worth. I think of the heartaches in my life as an ocean. It is deep and it is wide but I don't have to drown in the pain. I can live above it in a beautiful little boat just big enough for today. I can drift through my life a day at a time, looking to the clouds and the sparkles on the surface of the waters. I know the pain is down there, but I am wise enough to not jump in and let it overwhelm me.

Please help me decide which design is the best. Chris and I are working on the new church directory and we cannot decide what the cover should look like. They are in decending order, #8 being first. Please vote in your comments for which design you like the best. Any other input is also welcome. Thanks a bunch to everyone who considers the question.
 

design 8	design 7
design 6	design 5
design 4	design 3
design 2	design 1

This is food for thought...HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Today we have bigger houses, but smaller families. More conveniences, but less time.
We have more degrees, but less common sense. More knowledge, but less judgment.
We have more experts, but more problems. More medicine, but less wellness.
We spend too recklessly, Laugh too little, Drive too fast, Get angry too quickly,
Stay up too late, Read too little, Watch TV too much, and ponder too little.

We've multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too little, and lie too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life.
We've added years to our lives, but not life to our years.
We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers. Wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.

We spend more, but have less. We buy more , but enjoy it less.
We've been all the way to the moon and back, But have trouble crossing the street to meet our neighbors.
We've conquered outer space, But not inner space.
We've split the atom, But not our prejudices.
We write more, learn less, plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We have higher incomes, but lower morals.
We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies.
But have less communication. We are long on quantity, But short on Quality.

These are the times of fast food and slow digestion. Tall people, and short character.
More leisure, but less fun. More kinds of foods, but less nutrition.
Two incomes, but more divorce. Fancier houses, but more broken homes.

That's why I propose that, as of today, you do not keep anything for special occasions,
because every day you live is a special occasion.
Search for knowledge, read more, sit on your front porch and admire the view without paying attention to the time.
Spend more time with your family and friends, eat your favorite foods, and visit the places you love.
Use your crystal goblets, do not save your best perfume for last, throw a party for no good reason.

Life isn't only about survival. It's about joy.
Do not delay anything that adds laughter and joy to your life.
Remove from your vocabulary phrases like "one of these days" and "someday."
Let's write that letter we thought of writing "one of these days."
Let's tell our families and friends how much we love them.

                                                                                 author unknown 

It has been a good 4 days since our Christmas Eve blizzard, and even with sunny days since then, we still have a lot of snow on the ground. I took this out the back window today.

Pardon Me is the name of the daylily below. I took the picture TODAY... yes, in November. What a great daylily!