one of America's saddest secrets...

“I want to see firsthand the mental health unit”

She was involved in an argument, her body language yelled intensity, anger

She moves her hands to illustrate the point

She doesn't notice me or the sweat that drips from my forehead

I watch quietly, she gets louder and more animated.

There is no denying the importance of her position.

A tear dripped from the corner of my eye and mixed with the sweat running down the side of my face.

She never noticed me 

and her wall never told its side of the story

My undershirt stuck to my back. The heat was sweltering and the air was still and stale.

Coloring book pages hung on the walls like fliers for lost daughters, mothers, sisters.

  I left the unit with a level of discomfort, sadness and anger. I am not naive to the understanding that some of these women have possibly done things which warrant their removal from society, however housing the mentally ill in a prison has unfortunately become acceptable practice. I have heard and understand both sides of the argument. I know with out a doubt they are in an environment which is possibly safer than the one they came from; safer for others and most importantly safer for them. As society continues to slash funding for community based mental health services, more and more individuals with mental health disorders are being processed into jails and prisons.

How are we providing appropriate treatment and services?

Or does anyone care?   

The Mentally Ill in Jail: Whose Problem Is It Anyway? [Satellite/Internet Broadcast]

for my friend Sheri and all the treatment professionals who work inside prisons and jails...thank you for everything you do!
B

That “thing” and why I hate it, sometimes

That “thing” and why I hate it, sometimes

So the past week has been somewhat turbulent for me, which really means I have beat myself up over some things I have no control over. I tend to take some things very hard and feel they are somehow a critique of my character. My tendency is to really internalize these types of feelings and let them grow and rot inside my head. I call this processing; which is really using a clinical excuse to continue to beat myself up.  Luckily I am aware of this cycle and can call it like I see (feel) it. So the process for me looks like this, something happens, I get upset, I internalize it, I don’t tell anyone how upset I am, It’s constantly  on my mind (that’s that processing thing), I begin to lose sleep, I become more irritable, I quit eating, I isolate myself more from others, and within days, I feel like a disaster. I have a good set of tools for which I have learned and practiced throughout my recovery. Of all those tools is one for which I despise when in this cycle of self-inflicted misery. The Serenity Prayer. I really despise that short, well versed prayer! We who are in recovery have been beaten over the head time and again by counselors, therapists, mental health workers, 12 step members, sponsors, family members,  and everyone who knows when we are struggling reminds us to remember, recite, chant, yell to the heavens, this simple prayer. I hate it sometimes! (I feel like I should have it tattooed on my forehead, so every time I look in the mirror, I am reminded of its inherent power.)

That’s right… I said that I hate the Serenity Prayer.

How could I hate a prayer? This prayer really unlocks the one of the mysteries of my personal defects. If you look at the process at this beginning of my post, you will see that something has triggered a chain of events that has led me into a process of self-destruction. This event really is beyond my control. I have taken something, which affects me but is not my doing, and I turned it, spun it, and used it to feel bad about myself. That’s weird. Why would I do that? This is one of the “great” mysteries of addiction (and for another post and or profession to examine and unlock the “great” mysteries). For me it has a whole lot to do with mental health issues I deal with on a daily basis (which can be addressed another time). I have to focus on how I could hate a prayer!   So I know it’s there, I think about it whether I want to or not, and suddenly everything begins to become less cloudy. I begin to understand and more importantly feel that all of this really was out of my control and I can begin to rid myself of all the negativity I have created from it. I have developed tools that help me get myself back together; these include walking, making art, spending time with my kids and wife, and writing.

Today I feel better about last week. I still have some reservations about my love/hate relationship with The 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.

B