Spiritual Practices for the Dark Night - Giving Thanks. Again.

This post transitions from a month dedicated to PsychiatricTimes.com  to a month dedicated to gratitude. In short, I am grateful for Psychiatric Times. When I needed to figure out what the hell happened to my brain and how do I fix it, this online magazine for psychiatrists and other mental health professionals began my slow, steady self-education with its research reports, book reviews, philosophical discussions and occasional rants.

Mmm, sort of like Prozac Monologues: information, provocation, entertainment, and an occasional rant. That's how Google describes this blog. What do you think?

In the month of November, I will write posts about other resources and people for whom I am grateful. Today I repeat a post from ten years ago, part of a series on Spiritual Practices for the Dark Night. Those were dark nights, indeed, for me. These days, I think they are dark nights for everybody. But I digress...

Spiritual Practices for the Dark Night -- Giving Thanks

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. They tend to be such cliches. Quit smoking. Exercise. Lose weight. Well, if you are serious about losing weight, you gather information, you set goals, you plot a course, you prepare your house, you find a buddy (just like in AA), you plan each day, you think a lot and you practice. It's worth doing, and I did. The point of all of the above is to change the way you eat. Permanently. So I did all of the above and I feel great (at least about the way I eat). I wish you all the success in the world.

Christians get a second shot at the diet thing in Lent, which begins sometime in the middle of February. It doesn't fare any better than New Year's diets, because so few people want to change their life. They want a quick fix for that swimming suit or class reunion. That's why Lent. It's time limited, forty days, with Sundays not counting. Sundays are free days, for all the bad habits you resume once Lent is over.

Me, I am interested in changing my life. You may be, too, if you too have peered into the dark abyss and something still holds you back from the edge. We are tired of living on that edge. It's just too scary. It wears us out.

So I take advantage of whatever reflecting you might be doing on your life this time of year to introduce some spiritual practices that could change it.

Now don't get twitchy because I use the word "spiritual." Yes, I am a priest; and yes, I have a charge on my life; and yes, I do my best to follow Jesus. It causes me pain that many of you do not have access to that most powerful juju, because of how badly Jesus is represented by some people who have such strange ideas about how to follow him. And I ask him and you also to forgive me for how little I ever do about that.

But give me a hearing. I even changed the title for you. I could have called it "spiritual disciplines," which is how I think of them, and which connects these practices to their deep roots in my own and other religious traditions that have been around a lot longer than you or I, so that you might give them a chance to find out why they have stuck around so long.

Anyway, "practices" gives the sense that if you mess up one day, well, that's what people who are practicing do. Then they practice some more.

Having spent so much space on the title, I can't get to all three practices today. For which I am glad, because I do better when I don't have to figure out what I will write about, and now I know for three weeks, because I have just created another series. I hope I will remember the second practice, which I don't right this minute.

I try, I don't always succeed, but I try to start each day with three things for which I am thankful. I am not particularly profound, nor even moved.  I just notice three things. Today I am thankful that the sun came up. It didn't come out, but I can cut it slack some mornings. I haven't been out yet either. But it came up. That's a start, for which I am thankful.

I am thankful that I have a psychiatrist who listens to me. Let's not spend any time on the one who didn't. Let's focus on the present, for which I am thankful, because she listens to me.

I am thankful that my sweet Mazie is still alive. She has renal failure, and every day we notice more signs. It began with weight loss, then bad breath. Now she needs to go out several times a day, instead of three. I am the one who takes her for two long walks, and that gets me out, as well as up, whether the sun is joining us or not. Which is good for my mental health and for my heart, and so I am thankful.

Three things for which to give thanks makes me mindful, makes me pay attention to the present, which is a gift, which is why it is called the "present." For those of us who have peered into the dark abyss, the present is indeed a gift. Because we can imagine not receiving it.

Sometimes I forget to practice this practice. But I almost always give thanks at mealtime. That covers me three times a day. I give thanks for the food, for the hands that prepared it, and sometimes for those who grew it and picked it, and those who packed and delivered it. When appropriate to the menu, I might thank the chicken or the pig, and while I am at it, I apologize to them that I am not yet a vegetarian.

When I am in Central America, I hear my friends giving their thanks in quiet and rapid Spanish, so rapid that I can barely pick out a few words. But I hear them pray for those who do not have food, and for a world in which everyone will have food every day, like we pray in the Lord's Prayer: Thy will be done. Another word for this kind of prayer is mindfulness.

I was at a restaurant once on "A Day Without Mexicans," when lots of people from Central America stayed home from work to demonstrate how much the rest of us depend on them. I overheard a woman ranting at this demonstration, and how "they should go back to where they came from." All the while, she was eating a big beautiful salad.

Since that day, sometimes I pray, "Bless this food and the hands that prepared it. May it bless us or curse us, according to how we treat those who brought it to us." That is mindfulness, too.

I treat this practice gently. Once in a while I wonder who I am thanking, and that reminds me how mad I still am at God about this disease. I don't know how to give thanks for that yet. Part of my dark night is this alienation from God. Even alienation is a relationship. But it's not one I want to press too hard.

Don't press it too hard.  Thankfulness will do its work over time.  Treat it as an experiment, to find out what it will work in you.

Happy New Year.

Spiritual Practices for the Dark Night -- Forgiveness

Okay -- one more in the spiritual practices series.

But I don't put forgiveness in the same category as thanksgiving and tithing, practices I keep and commend to my readers. I can't say that I practice forgiveness. When forgiveness happens, it comes as unbidden as a gracious gift in a time of desperation.

I can't tell you how to forgive. I never learned.

What I mean by forgiveness goes something like this: This person has a relationship with me, in which I can expect this person to treat me well, AND this person did me some harm, AND I forgive this person and will carry the burden of not forgiving no longer.

I never learned that kind of forgiveness. I learned BUT forgiveness: This person did me some harm, BUT it wasn't that big a deal. Or: This person did me harm BUT there were extenuating circumstances. Or: BUT I just haven't figured out the bigger picture yet. Or: BUT he/she couldn't help it. Or: BUT I am the better person, and will let it go.

But the BUTs don't work. They hide a wound that does not heal. They disrespect me and how I deserve to be treated. And they cover with a fig leaf my disrespect for the one who hurt me.

The "I just haven't figured it out yet" thing is especially problematic. There are certain statements that simply can't be reconciled unless something gives. In my case, my brain. Rehearsing and rehearsing the same event, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible, experiencing that pain over and over -- this is called rumination, the bad kind of rumination, perseveration even, my therapist would call it when she was trying to scare me out of it.

Spiritual Practices for the Dark Night -- Tithing

Yes, I'm serious.  Tithing.

I knew about tithing because I am a Christian.  The concept comes from the Old Testament. I used to think it was interesting -- from a distance. Like fasting. Of course nobody except the legalists actually did it. Still, I suspected I was missing something.

Then two things happened within two months. I left the person to whom I had turned over all decisions that mattered. And I attended a conference about what was called the "Alabama Plan." We did bible studies about money, about tithing, about abundance and God's promises. And then we were asked, What is preventing you from claiming God's promises? I realized my answer was -- nothing. Nothing prevented me.

So I became a tither.

Now remember the context. Having just moved out on the chief money maker of the family, my household income had plummeted to 40% of what it had been. It occurred to me -- this was the perfect time to begin tithing. Instead of 10% of what I was used to living on, now it would cost me just 4%. The difference between living on 40% and living on 36% didn't seem like that bit a deal.

I was so excited by my new resolution that I decided to tithe for the previous two months as well. So I sat down with my checkbook. That's when the magic happened.

Suddenly, I had $300 to give to whatever cause I wanted.

I had never had $300 to give to whatever cause I wanted.  I was rich!

And I have never looked back. In the years since, I have purchased honey bees, rabbits, trees, a pig, a llama, a sheep, and this year a goat from the Heifer Project. I have purchased mosquito nets from UNICEF. I have fought hate crimes and taught tolerance through the Southern Poverty Law Project. I am helping secure marriage equality through the Lambda Legal Defense Fund.

My most satisfying sense of wealth was the opportunity to purchase four chlorinators for $300 a pop. They provide four villages in Swaziland with clean drinking water. The last time our diocese sent a team to partner with the Anglican Church there, they sent back word, "One elder welcomed us with great thanks. He said, 'Ever since you came, we have not buried a child.' It's a much bigger project than my contribution. Now the Swazis are making the chlorinators themselves.

And I have given lots of money to old churches in small towns. I make no apologies for paying heating bills of drafty old buildings. Hearts starve as well as bodies; Give us bread, but give us roses. In out of the way places, stained glass windows are the only art most people see. So I am glad to support the furnace repairs of my church home. We are family. Paying the bills is part of belonging.

I couldn't do all this if I hadn't made a commitment -- 10% on the first line item of my budget. If I had to decide each month whether I could afford it, well, of course there are other things I "need." But with that money already allotted, my only decision is where I get to spend it. Frankly, it's almost the only discretionary money I have. That there is so much of it makes me feel rich.

And what on earth does this have to do with Prozac Monologues: reflections and research on the mind, the brain, depression and society?  This:

Regarding depression: those of us with mental illness experience loss piled on loss, often including financial loss. We live in a world so programmed for consumption that it consumes us. We are surrounded by images of things we don't have. It hurts to feel poor.

Regarding society: the "Crazy Delusion" consumes all the rest of us, as well. Do you realize that of the almost 7,000,000,000 people on the planet, most of them do not have cable?

Regarding the mind: think of tithing as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. First, pay attention to your feelings about money. Money is the quickest way into what we value. Examine the assumptions behind your feelings. Challenge your assumptions. Do they have a basis in reality? Explore and test options.

Nothing has ever matched the rush I got when I wrote those first checks. If you have to be careful about mania triggers, you might start slower. Figure out what you gave away last year. Calculate the percentage. Double it this year, and double it again next year, until you reach your goal. The trick is to make it a line item in your budget, as intentional as your light bill.

Tithing is a spiritual practice for the dark night, a way to push back your feelings of loss and your anxiety about the future. I am not going to promise that you will be rewarded by an unexpected windfall. Rather, it will occur to you that you already have enough.

So like thankfulness, tithing is a form of mindfulness, paying attention. The Torah has given us this great gift. Claim it. As Moses said, Choose life.

P.S.  I seem to have given a lot of advice lately. Too much.  There will be no third spiritual practice; the series ends here.

Sanity, the Serenity Prayer, and the Way of Love

Last week I just couldn't. Well, my laptop was dying. And then my printer wouldn't install. But all that within the context of everything that well, you know... So last week there was no new post.

This week, I still can't, not really. I can't find any new research that intrigues me. I can't bear the thought of yet another rant. I am determined not to spread any more pain.

But there's pain out there. There's pain in here. And this blog is about the things I can change. So this I will do.

I have a spiritual discipline that I am using to walk through these days. I am a Christian, and this is a Christian discipline, or series of ancient practices - though my guess is that nonChristians can find something of value here. I will do my best to do some translation.

It's called the Way of Love.

Mental Illness Awareness Week - Because We Are Really Good at Delusional

Imagine this -- Somebody from NAMI attends one of those campaign events and gets to the microphone.  Intending to ask about the candidate's views on funding for community mental health, this poor parent begins with a statement: 

People with severe mental illness die on average twenty-five years before everybody else.  They have the expected lifespan of Somalia. 

Nowadays the crowd will cheer.  But that particular youtube wouldn't go viral.

I am jaded about this Mental Illness Awareness thing.  It will not be subjected to any Best Practices evaluation.  NAMI and the pharmaceutical industry have been making us more aware of mental illness for decades now.  The numbers on prejudice have not budged.  They have not budged.

That negativity -- does it mean I am currently displaying symptoms or that I have done my research?  Both, actually.

I'll cop to the irony here.  I myself was a speaker at one of those Mental Illness Awareness Week events once, held on a Sunday night in a not-much-traveled portion of a university campus.

It was very moving, the candles and all that.  And it did raise awareness, in the sense that it made those of us who were there, people with mental illness and those who love us aware that we are not alone.  But did it increase funding for research and treatment?  Did it reduce prejudice?  I don't think so.

Let me answer that another way.  Did it increase funding for research and treatment?  Did it reduce prejudice?

Nope.

So symptoms, research, irony and all, my contribution to Mental Illness Awareness Week is a repost of what I think we ought to be doing this week.  And next.  And next. 

From Friday, March 11, 2011:

Ignore/Laugh/Fight/ -- Mental Health Advocacy That Wins

If they don't want to employ you, if they are afraid of you, if there are four times as many of you in jail as in the hospital, then it's not just stigma.  It is prejudice and it is oppression.

The twentieth century offered a whole degree program in prejudice and oppression.  Others have made progress against what beat them down.  Though we are now stalled and falling behind, we can move forward when we adopt their methods.

The Map to Liberation

Mahatma Gandhi was not the first freedom fighter.  But he is the great theoretician.  He gave us the map.

First they ignore you.
Then they laugh at you.
Then they fight you. 
Then you win. 

Four simple steps.  The good news -- we have already taken the first.  Got that one down pat.

Liberation 101: 

We are in charge of the map.  The oppressor doesn't decide that oppression will end.  It endures until the oppressed decide that it will end.

What we have to do is provoke the next step.

Then they laugh at you.

Well, that's where we are stuck, because we are unwilling to be laughed at.  Last month's NAMI meeting was about Iowa's upcoming budget cuts.  Somebody said, When we complain, they say we are crazy.  I think she is a therapist.  She has that therapist look, if you know what I mean.

Therapists say the funniest things.  When we complain about how we are treated, they say we are crazy.

But we are crazy!  We start off ahead of all the other liberation movements that had to get crazy to take it to Gandhi's next step.

Think Martin Luther King.  Think Nelson Mandela.  Freedom?  People called them communists.  Either that or just plain nuts. 

Like these other movements, we have to find a spiritual taproot deep enough that we can endure being laughed at.  Just like the tree, standing by the water... 

The spiritual work will be impossible if we expect our care providers to lead.  They get twitchy if we talk spirituality.  I will address that work another time.  Right now I will sketch out how we break beyond First they ignore you, and move to Then they laugh at you.

What that means more precisely is, we have to do things to make people think we are nuts.  Like, DEMAND that we receive funding for research and treatment, DEMAND that we have the same access to health care as anybody else, DEMAND that we receive our health care in health care facilities, not in jails.

It's all about budget cuts right now.  Corporate tax cuts -- that's a given.  Corporations spent good money for our current crop of legislators, and they expect a return on investment.

So who will pay for these tax cuts, the people with mental retardation or the people with mental illness?  The Iowa State legislature has a committee that has asked us to decide.  Well, isn't that special.

We have to DEMAND that they change the rules of this game.  We have to REFUSE to play Survivor.  We have to refuse LOUDLY.

How?  African Americans sat down.  That is when they moved off Step One, when they REFUSED to be ignored any more.

So how about we lie down?


Lie In/Die In

Picture this.  The next Loonie Lobby Day at the state legislature, we don't get all showered and neatly normaled up and go have sincere conversations with our legislators who are really sympathetic (their brother has depression, so they know what we are up against, but their hands are tied by that pesky deficit...)

Instead, we stand in the rotunda and read off the names of their constituents who have committed suicide.  Each time a name is read, somebody falls down.  They have to step over our bodies to get out of the building.

Mental Health "Parity"
 
The Mental Health Parity and Addiction Equity Act would be better called the Swiss Cheese Mental Health Act.

1) Only large employers are affected.

2) If they can demonstrate it causes them financial hardship, they can get an exemption.

3) Parity is a laugh anyhow, if reimbursement rates are so low you can't find a provider who accepts your insurance.

4) The provisions of even this piss poor legislation that address reimbursement rates are now the top of the list on Congress's chopping block.

So off we head to Washington.  There are 13,000,000 million of us with serious mental illnesses in the US, including 5.7 million with bipolar, 2.4 million with schizophrenia and 7.7 million with PTSD.  The numbers add up to more than 13,000,000, because some of us get to double dip.  Piece of cake to pull together 34,000 to do a die-in around the steps of Congress, representing one year's worth of the deaths by suicide in the US.  We will drape American flags over the bodies of the vets.

Yes, we are dying out here.  Let them step over us.

How nuts are we to think we can turn around this systemic discrimination?  In this political climate?

Progress Report

Remember, When we complain about how we are treated, they say we are crazy?  By now some of my readers seriously want me to reconsider Seroquel.  Others -- if you are still reading, your doc wants you to up your dose.  This means we are making progress.

At some point, laughter becomes a cover for scared.  Then it's time for the next step.

Then they fight you.

Remember, this is our map.  We are the ones who push it forward.  Nobody else will.  And if I am scaring you, look at it this way.  If we aren't scared already, we'd have to be crazy.

Until we change our advocacy, we will continue to lose psychiatrists.  We currently have less than half the psychiatrists we need to provide a even a shoddy level of token med checks.  In Iowa, we have one fourth.  While demand is going up (think Iraq, think Afghanistan), supply is going down, as retiring psychiatrists are not replaced by new doctors.  Why go that far in debt to get through med school and then choose a specialty with the lowest pay scale on the block?

Until we change our advocacy, we will continue to lose community mental health centers.  Remember community mental health centers?  The places we were supposed to go when they kicked us out of the hospital?  They are disappearing already.  Here are the Kansas numbers.  You can find the same story for any state you google.

Until we change our advocacy, we will lose what parity was promised.  Again, all employers have to do to avoid it is demonstrate that it costs them money to provide it.

Until we change our advocacy, we will lose even the programs that jails now provide.  Why should criminals be coddled?

Desperate Times Call For Futile Gestures

What were we thinking?  That public demonstrations would make a difference to cold hard facts?  Were we nuts?  (By the way, what have we been thinking, that talking would make a difference?)

After the strategies designed for Then they laugh at you prove futile, we up the ante.  In place of our bodies, we substitute urns full of ashes and dump them on the floor of the assembly halls.

In 1987 AIDS activists entered the New York Stock Exchange.  Seven people unobtrusively chained themselves and a banner to the rail overlooking the trading floor.  At the opening bell they unfurled their banner and blew fog horns.  They drowned out the opening bell, and prevented traders from trading, while they brought national attention to their demand that pharmaceutical companies stop profiteering at the cost of their lives.

Wall Street is our audience, too -- all the businesses that insure some of their employees but not us, all the health care companies that pay reasonable reimbursement to some doctors but not ours.  How about we bring ambulance sirens? 

A Day Without Mental Health Care 

Next we head to Main Street.

The 2004 film A Day Without A Mexican imagined what would happen if one day everybody in the US from Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, et al disappeared.  Economic havoc, that's what.  A few years later, the movie inspired a political demonstration.  Workers stayed home for a day.  In some places, restaurants simply closed for the day, unable to serve their customers.

So last week the Wall Street Journal reported a survey by Workplace Options.  The survey discovered that 41% of workers polled had taken 4-9 days off work in the previous year to care for their own, their friends', their coworkers' or family members' mental health issue.  Half work in offices with no benefits, support or services to deal with mental health issues.

They think they can't afford to provide services?  They haven't a clue how much it already costs them not to. 

There you have it, a National Day Without Mental Health Care.  Everybody who has a mental illness or loves somebody who does -- stay home.  I'm thinking Monday -- to make that moon connection, and maybe even disrupt Monday Night Football?

Going To Jail

At this point, we are littering, destroying property and generally disturbing the peace.  We are going to jail.

Everybody on a three-month wait list for an intake interview,

Everybody on a two-year wait list for the judicial review of an SSDI application,

Everybody on a four-year wait list for sheltered housing,

Everybody who had been doing okay, but stopped taking meds when the day program closed,

Everybody who can't afford the copay for that third tier prescription anyway,

Everybody who doesn't have health insurance at all,

Everybody who is homeless,

Go downtown and set a trash can on fire.

We Need Some Coordination Here

No, not everybody.  Jail is not a good place for people with OCD, PTSD, nor Borderline.  You all, your part is to run right down to the courthouse, legal brief in hand, to make sure the police department fulfills its obligation to get the rest of us our meds.

Prejudice And Oppression -- Some Observations

This post has been about fighting oppression, the institutional arrangements that support an unjust system.  Oppression is weighty.  It is fierce.  It does not respond to reason.  Power yields only to power.  The strategies and actions I have described are the power of anger that has been organized.

Our families and our care providers are just as scared as everybody else of our anger.  So they will not help us here.  They want to address prejudice, not oppression. 

Prejudice is the irrational thoughts and feelings of individuals.  Well, prejudice also needs to be addressed.  There is work enough for everybody.  Think of differential diagnoses as differential skill sets for the differential tasks of freedom-fighting.

That's coming next week...

banner from nami.org

image of prison bars from microsoft

photo of Mahatma Gandhi in public domain 

flair from facebook

forest photo by Maylene Thyssen used under the GNU Free Documentation license

sit in at Walgreen's in Nashville, Tennesee, March 25, 1960, in public domain

photo of die in casualties by Brendan Themes and used under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license

fist graphic in public domain

Souls in the Hands of a Tender God -- Again

A month's worth of travel + new medication = time for a rerun.

This one has something to do with my NAMI Convention reporting.  It's a book report on Souls in the Hands of a Tender God.  I met the author, Craig Rennebohm at the Convention's presentation on FaithNet. 

First we pause for a word about FaithNet:

NAMI FaithNet is a network composed of members and friends of NAMI. It was established for the purposes of (1) facilitating the development within the faith community of a non-threatening, supportive environment for those with mental illness and their families, (2) pointing out the value of one’s spirituality in the recovery process from mental illness and the need for spiritual strength for those who are caretakers, (3) educating clergy and faith communities concerning mental illness and (4) encouraging advocacy of the faith community to bring about hope and help for all who are affected by mental illness.

NAMI FaithNet is not a religious  network but rather an outreach to all religious organizations.  It has had significant success in doing so because all the major religions have the basic tenets of giving care and showing compassion to those in need.

Next year's NAMI Convention will be in Seattle, Craig's homebase.  He set himself a goal of enrolling 132 congregations in FaithNet as part of bringing NAMI there.

One bit of feedback to Craig, if he's reading:  Congregations have a particular skill set that would be very useful at a NAMI Convention -- ushers and greeters.  Just a thought...

Meanwhile, with a few images added, from January 6, 2010 --
 
Souls in The Hands of a Tender God

Rush Limbaugh says that he experienced the world's best health care in the United States of America, and it does not need fixing.  I am glad for Rush that he was staying at a resort near a world class hospital for coronary care last month.  I imagine he has insurance to pay for the hotel-like accommodations, the angiogram and several other tests that failed to find the cause of his chest pains.

Given his public platform and his wide influence on American opinion and public policy, I wish Rush would expand his experience of health care in the United States of America.  He could shadow Craig Rennebohm for a few days to find out how health care works for other people.  Craig is the pastor of Pilgrim Church (UCC) in Seattle and, as part of their ministry, "companions" persons who are homeless and mentally ill.  With David Paul, Craig describes their quite different experiences in Souls in the Hands of a Tender God: Stories of the Search for Home and Healing on the Streets.

One Nation, Two Health Care Systems

The emergency personnel got Rush to the emergency room like snap!

That's not what happened to Sterling

Over months Craig built the trust of this man who camped in the church courtyard, surrounding himself with trash to protect himself from the evil spirits.  Finally, when the trash included highly combustible materials, Craig convinced him to go to the hospital.  Winter was coming.  The mental health professionals (MHPs) who showed up said they couldn't take Sterling in, because he was a voluntary patient.  They only picked up involuntary patients.  Sterling accused Craig of betraying him and fled the scene.  Craig couldn't find him until a month later, when he read of a homeless John Doe who died of exposure.

Rush was examined for days, still hospitalized, after they already knew he was not having a heart attack and not in immanent danger.

That's not what happened to Shelly

Shelly was seven months pregnant, with bronchitis and in a state of euphoria and grandiosity.  Craig brought her to the ER.  But she wasn't a good faith voluntary patient.  They believed she would check herself out so she could go accomplish her mission.  She didn't qualify for involuntary admission, because she wasn't a danger to herself or others.  What about her baby?  What about her bronchitis?  Bring her back when she develops pneumonia.

Karl Is A Vet

Karl's story is the clearest example of how health care in the United States of America is not working just fine.  Karl is a vet.  He was arrested for resisting arrest for vagrancy.  He just remembers being attacked, and later that the people in prison were poisoning him.  He was transferred to the hospital for two years, then back to jail to be released, no money, no meds, nothing but the clothes on his back.

Craig had been alerted.  He was a total stranger when he met Karl at the jail that morning and took him to breakfast.  Karl couldn't compute the question, White or whole wheat?

They continued to a clinic, where Karl couldn't understand or fill out the two-page form.  Since he wasn't in immediate danger, they sent him to the Department of Social and Health Services to apply for SSI.  Craig helped him with the six-page form there.  The social worker discovered he once received benefits.  So he had to get a statement from Social Security.

Social Security noticed Karl was receiving veterans benefits.  Next stop, the Veteran's Administration.  But the counselor there said they were a PTSD program and didn't take walk-ins.  He sent them a mile away to the Federal Building.  His file was in another state, so they had to get it transferred.

Meanwhile, the file was on computer, and said he was getting 50 cents a month, which was going to the hospital. (They could look up the information, but couldn't give him a copy until the file was received in a few days.)  Craig said, He's homeless and needs medication right now.  So he was sent to the VA hospital, then to the outpatient clinic in the bowels of the hospital.  Several kind strangers helped Craig find the way.

To get help at the outpatient clinic, Karl had to be admitted through ER, where they determined his illness was not service-related.  The waiting list for outpatient treatment was six months, and he might not get in, because he had been hospitalized only once.  The social worker suggested they try the clinic where they had started the day.  By now it was 6:30 and the clinic was closed.  They covered miles that day.  Karl spent the night in a homeless shelter, still not able to remember Craig's name.

That's where I will end the saga, though it is still several days from completion.  Small wonder that 83% of psychiatrists want a national health insurance plan, a higher proportion than any other specialty.  So many of their patients are homeless.

At Least I Have Insurance
 

And I thought I was having a hard time.  I have boatloads of people to help, support and advocate for me.  My salary is continued while I fill out applications.  I have a roof over my head and continued health insurance.

Most of all I have Helen, who asked me all the repetitive questions over several days, monitored my capacity, and terminated the work each day, usually after twenty minutes when I was getting overwhelmed.  My phone has been set to mute the disability company whose questions put me over the edge.  She screens my messages.  This process turned me into a pill-popping wreck last fall, and though my memory is not what it used to be, I do know my helper's name.

Rush, the system works well for you.  But not for the rest of us who live in the United States of America.

A Different Way

I commend to your reading Souls in the Hands of a Tender God by Craig Rennebohm with David Paul.  Craig uses his stories to help us see the face of Christ in these abandoned ones, and to frame his theology of God and what it means to be a human being in the sight of God.

We cannot make the journey alone.  None of us.  We are made for life together, made for community.  Those of us blessed with health and wealth may be tempted to forget that.  We may want to believe that we are self-made and assume that we have succeeded through our individual merits alone...  Illness - and especially mental illness - confronts us with the unavoidable truth of our frailty and finitude.  Illness underscores our fundamental dependence on the love and help of others...

Companioning

Craig describes the work that his community is doing, "companioning" people who are mentally ill.  Companionship can be described in terms of four practices: offering hospitality, walking side by side, listening, and accompaniment.  Let's consider these in detail...

And he tells the astounding story of a very different kind of system in Gheel, Belgium.  I will tell you about The Miracle of Gheel next week.  There is a different way to do this.

photo of Rennebaum from http://mentalhealthchaplain.org

photo of toast by Ranier Zenz and used under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License

US-GSA-USAServices-Logo.svg Logo of the USAServices program, a program to help other government agencies with online communication, managed by the General Services Administration is in the public domain etching of Sysiphus by Max Klinger, 1914, in public domain book jacket from amazon.com  woodcut of Road to Emmaus by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld in public domain