HE HAS SCHIZOPHRENIA, YOUR HONOR by Sandy Turner

Once upon a time, when Casey was very sick and demonstrating symptoms of his illness in the courtroom, his overwhelmed public defender started defending Casey by speaking out on an entirely different case.  I raised my hand and said, "He has the wrong file, Your Honor."

A large bailiff came near to me so I apologized and slunk down. When his defender began speaking again, it was as if he was speaking from a routine script with no sense of what was happening to this beautiful young man's life. My son was disappearing right before our eyes.

I raised my hand again and said, "He has schizophrenia, Your Honor."

The large bailiff came and stood in front of me again, this time with his arms crossed in front of him. I apologized a second time and watched as this amazing judge got it. The prosecutor finally got it, too, and came to speak with me. I asked, "Why do they prosecute patients for displaying symptoms of their illness?" He put his head down and shook it.

One day in our trip down behavioral lane. I remember every one of them.

Casey Alan Campbell Age 5

Casey Alan Campbell Age 5

  Casey Alan Campbell age 23

  Casey Alan Campbell age 23

October 29, 1985 - October 1, 2009

Those beautiful days!
Our fairytales did not end well.
But, oh Dede, the beautiful days we had with these amazing loves are forever.
So loving and aware of others.
I sometimes looked at Casey and thought to myself,
Where did you come from, you beautiful-hearted little soul? 💖

SORROW AND JOY - Anonymous

Your son-in-law's grilling steak for the family because we're celebrating the birth of our daughter's second child this past weekend. He looks for the missing steak knives in your cupboard because he knows there should be more. You quietly tell him those knives are impounded at the police station. 

Even though the moment passes and he graciously nods his head, the reminder that this is one more celebration your son cannot join in kind of puts that familiar weight on the joy. Sorrow and joy are constant company.

Photo credit: "I Miss You" by bubblegumgirlzflickr.com

Photo credit: "I Miss You" by bubblegumgirlz
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EGG IN MY BEER? by James Callner

So here's the deal.

It's baffled me, for over 35 years of OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder), why family members and even family doctors don't get this disorder. It seriously stumps me. How tough is this?

I understand research continues on the exact cause and cure of OCD, but can't people make the stretch of compassion about the anxiety and — yes, as we know and are truly self aware of — the odd rituals and obsessions? We are the first to say it.

I used to ask audiences and classes of mine, "Have any of you had a panic attack?"  Eighty to ninety percent or more would answer "Yes." 

"Okay, take that feeling and multiple it times three. Sometimes all day long".

They'd get that part but why all the shame, blame, and criticizing from family? Is it just too hard for them to see you in pain? Is it scary to them?

Bottom line: all we want is a daily reprieve and a little encouragement to get there. Even the smallest daily win, over any OCD behavior you challenge in yourself, should get a "good job!" Even if someone doesn't understand it. That's called basic compassion and kindness in the midst of struggle.

Or, am I'm asking for egg in my beer? (which I have no idea what that means)

Wikipedia: Egg in beer refers to the practice, literally or figuratively, of cracking a raw egg into a glass of beer. One Pennsylvania source refers to this as a "miner's breakfast". The term is also used metaphorically, commonly as "what do you want, egg in your beer?", implying that the listener already has something good but is asking for undeservedly more.

 

Photo credit: Keggs & Eggs- Williwaw

Photo credit: Keggs & Eggs- Williwaw

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I TOLD THEM ALL OF IT - Anonymous (A Mother Bear)

And then I stood up to speak. I was afraid I wouldn't find my voice due to the tears that I couldn't hold in all day whenever I approached anyone personally. But I held strong and the tears held back.

I spoke, folks. I shared our story and told them that our story isn't unique. It's the story of countless families who care and try to get help for their SMI (seriously mentally ill) loved ones but are told the only recourse is to call 911. Then, when they call 911, the police arrive and say, 'We can't do anything unless we actually witness threats of danger to self or others."

The family's left with two options — see their kid escorted off the property to become homeless and vulnerable; or wait it out until the next violent assault and hope they live through it so they can advocate for treatment. And then, when that assault happens, (for many it inevitably does), the police arrive and the parents beg them to take their kid to the ER. Now they can see the threat of danger to self or others, right? Instead, the police say, "No, we're sorry, but now your kid has committed a felony and we have to take him into custody."

So begin the weeks and months of jail time, and waiting for yet another psychiatric evaluation despite the years of documented medical reports and hospitalizations. Finally, the treatment starts along with the parole and the recovery while the court ordered medication lasts. Then the court order is over, the son or daughter goes off medication and it all begins again. Over and over, from ground zero, the same scenario.

I told them all of it, folks, and said, "Families need to be listened to when they know their kids need treatment."

Photo credit: Brigitte Eflickr.com

Photo credit: Brigitte E
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