BETWEEN NOW AND THE NEXT FULL MOON by Judy Waldo Bracken

Checking my calendar, I see that my next scheduled event is the full moon, over a week from today. Really? That seems impossible. Perhaps I’ve forgotten to write something down — an appointment, a phone call reminder, a volunteer commitment, or meeting. But no, it all seems to be in order. 

I’ve been trying to clear my calendar for months, years really, and I never actually thought it would happen. Trying to clear it so that I’d be open for the next crisis, the next call from the hospital, the alert from the police, the doctor visit, or the call from my son talking in nonsense statements. Whatever it was, I needed to be unscheduled to avoid the disappointment of having to cancel my plans due to that ever present possibility of a crisis. 

Why would I do this? Why do I feel I have to put my life on hold when someone in my family is not doing well? In looking deeper, I realize how unfair I’m being to myself. I am healthy and strong, independent, financially secure, with plenty of time on my hands. Instead of feeling free, I’m filled with a deep sense of emptiness. Empty nest, empty house, empty calendar. For some reason I’ve been conditioned to put my own sense of fulfillment aside until everyone in my family is happy and healthy. 

It’s time to put something new on my calendar. It’s time to take an “about face” in my thought patterns. It’s time to realize my own happiness is not so dependent on others. It’s time to accept the new family paradigm that includes my mentally ill son as he is or may be with the proper help. It’s time to realize that the challenges that turn our lives upside down and inside out can actually be experiences that strengthen and broaden us and our views of the world. It’s time to draw from my own strength and to continue to fight for my son. It’s time to be content with my life as things are right now. 

The fall leaf colors in my backyard are indescribably beautiful. The dog snuggling next to me is soft and warm. My muscles are exercised from a vigorous swim workout this morning. I’m breathing and my heart is steadily beating. My calendar is empty, but there is plenty to do and think about between now and the next full moon.

Judy and her sons, Cameron, Ryland, and Stewart with Shorty at the memorial tree for Judy's husband, Bryan, three years ago.

Judy and her sons, Cameron, Ryland, and Stewart with Shorty at the memorial tree for Judy's husband, Bryan, three years ago.

LORD, HAVE MERCY ON US ALL by Anne Schmidt Francisco

I've been scared a lot in life, but only one thing has left such fearful, indelible impressions on my mind. That is experiencing and living inside the third world reality that families like mine endure and fight against. Loving someone who is unaware of his broken brain, who lunges like a speeding train toward the horrors imposed by a society that is neglectful and uncaring. Today, and many days, I feel fearful and afraid. I can't erase the ugly nightmares along the road of losing Josh, nor the suffering of other families. Lord, have mercy on us all.

Anne & Josh

Anne & Josh

Anne writes: This is the last day I saw Josh smile. Delusions of grandeur prevailed in his mind. It was the next day that police took him into custody. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter of incarceration and solitary confinement that ended in his death in prison 19 months later.

#SHATTERINGSILENCE4SMI by Teresa Pasquini

Teresa's comments to 40 law enforcement officers from across the county at a NAMI Contra Costa Crisis Intervention Training (CIT): 10/24/17

Good afternoon, my name is Teresa Pasquini. I am a lifelong resident of West Contra Costa County, a former Contra Costa Mental Health Commissioner, a NAMI Contra Costa member and a state and national advocate. 

Today I speak as the proud mom of an adult child with schizoaffective disorder. He is also a former inmate No. 201202796 in Napa County. He became an inmate upon being arrested while a patient at Napa State Hospital. Contra Costa Mental Health had sent him to Napa State Hospital on a civil, not criminal, commitment because he was very sick. He has had all charges dropped after 5 years. Today he is doing very well at a rehab facility in Merced County. I spend my free time speaking out about our family journey because I want the world to know that he is more than an illness or a number. His name is Danny and he is a beloved son. 

Our son’s first involuntary hold was a suicide by cop type event. He was 16. I have had to call the police over 50 times in the past 19 years in order to get him medical care. He was 5150d every time, which is not easy. That usually meant that we were living on the edge, in fear of what he would do to himself or someone else. We knew that if we called too soon he wouldn’t be taken into the hospital. So we waited and, when the time was right, my husband would stand watch while I snuck into the back room and dialed 911 and said, “Please hurry.”

We have had to watch our son walk out of our front door in handcuffs to the waiting ambulance too many times. It is the same door that I carried him through as a baby. This illness and system were not included in the dreams for our newborn son and our family. But now that they are our reality, I have committed to partnering with anyone to fix what I call the system of luck and heroics. All of us in this room are part of that system and we need to join our voices and start shattering silence about the chaos of care. 

I believe in the power of public health and safety partnerships that include providers, law enforcement, detention staff, psychiatrists, judges, public defenders, DAs, nurses, case managers, peers, families and our neighbors. We are allies, not enemies, and we must help each other design a system of health and care, not luck and heroics. I am proud to be a founding member of the Behavioral Health Care Partnership at Contra Costa Regional Medical Center that was created in 2009. Under the leadership of the CEO, Anna Roth, we intentionally brought in law enforcement to work with us on the system redesign on our psychiatric units. 

Since 2010, I've sat on the Executive Team of our county hospital and health systems as a patient and family advisor and I have worked closely with Lieutenant Sheriff Jeff Moule. In October 2014, I joined Lt. Moule at the National Quality Forum in Washington DC to share the story of our partnership at the Contra Costa Regional Medical Center. The name of the conference was called Hardwiring Humanity into Healthcare. Our session was titled “ A Mom and a Sheriff Partner to Create a Safe, Humane Environment for People with Mental Illnesses.” What a concept!

We're all trying so hard to fix this system. We aren’t there yet but days like today will bring us closer to change. And, change must happen because too many people with serious mental illnesses are still dying on the streets, in solitary or with their rights on because we still haven't designed a system that will provide the right care at the right time and in the right place. We still need a right to treatment before tragedy. 

It must be noted that many families are afraid to call 911 when their loved one is in a psychiatric crisis and they should be. People with untreated mental illness are 16 times more likely to be killed during a police encounter than other civilians approached or stopped by law enforcement, according to a study released by the Treatment Advocacy Center. “By dismantling the mental illness treatment system, we have turned mental health crisis from a medical issue into a police matter,” said John Snook, executive director and a co-author of the study. “This is patently unfair, illogical and is proving harmful both to the individual in desperate need of care and the officer who is forced to respond.”

This Treatment Advocacy Center Report, “Overlooked in the Undercounted: The Role of Mental Illness in Fatal Law Enforcement Encounters," urges lawmakers to reduce loss of life and the many social costs associated with police shootings by enacting public policies that will:
• Restore the mental health system so that individuals with severe mental illness are not left to deteriorate until their actions provoke a police response;
• Fund reliable federal tracking and reporting of all incidents involving the use of deadly force by law enforcement, whether lethal or not; and
• Assure that the role of mental illness in fatal police shootings is identified and reported in government data collection.”

Today, I call myself a recovering angry mom. I try hard not to blame and shame because I know that people don’t go to work each day to do harm. And, I want you all to know that my husband and I have done everything in our power to prevent harm, and protect our son and our community. We made those 911 calls knowing that things could go wrong but knowing we had no choice but to call for help. We are so grateful that when we needed you, you were there. 

It's been the Sheriff deputies, not the health system, who've sent help to my home for the past 19 years during a mental health crisis. It's the deputies who've sat with my husband and me and comforted us when our son was placed in handcuffs and walked to an ambulance. It's often law enforcement that's on the front line and leading the way. But, it's time to lead together. 

We've been waiting 50 years for a system of hospital-based and community services to be complete in order to prevent failing and jailing. We can’t keep waiting. So, I thank you for being here today learning together, because, really, we're all on the front line and together is the only way forward.

Please share Teresa's comments with those who have no experience with serious mental illness (SMI). We need public support in order to change our criminal mental health system. We need a mental illness system that recognizes SMI as a physical brain illness and doesn't "jail and fail" those with SMI.

A "Danny Collage." Teresa says, "Someday I hope that Danny and I can tell our story together."

A "Danny Collage." Teresa says, "Someday I hope that Danny and I can tell our story together."

DEPRESSION by Donna Hairston

Two weeks ago, I ended up in a difficult situation. At the time I thought I handled it pretty well. Even when I went to therapy that Monday, I was convinced that I wasn’t bothered.

The next day, I didn’t leave the bed. The bathroom and kitchen were my only destinations. The day after that the same. Since I’ve been through this a million times, I knew what was coming.

A visit from The Monster.

You would think that I’d be able to fight him off by now. That I would have his death planned out. Nope. He’s a crafty bastard. He sneaks up on me. He wears nice clothes most times. Whispers sweet nothings. I drop my guard thinking he’s a friend. And then….

The bed is my bestie. Pajamas and ratty t-shirts become my uniforms. My hair is styled into a matted afro. Hygiene is basic and quick.

Mirrors avoided. Conversations muted.

Insomnia. Staring at the TV. Reading is limited to medicine bottles and commercials.

It’s like drowning. You’re paddling. People are screaming “STAND UP! JUST STAND UP!” They don’t know that the monster is holding your legs. The only thing you can do is lift your chin a little bit above the water.

Exhaustion. Sleep 12 hours and wake up exhausted. Sleep 3 hours and wake up zombie like.
Days run together. Time means nothing. Appointments are ignored. Parenthood is suspended. “Thank God my kids are older,” is what I whisper. I remember the days when they were younger and the monster visited. #sigh How am I still living?

“Get out of the house.“ Come by for a visit.“ Call a friend." Don’t they understand that all of those things are painful? That walking to the next room takes all of my strength?

No, I won’t tell them. “I’m doing ok. Thanks.” That’s my standard reply. “I’ll see you soon.” Yeah, right.

On the 11th day I left the house. Alone. I had to squint because the light shocked me. Maybe this is the beginning of his departure. Hope?

Nah. 30 minutes. He came with me. Followed me everywhere. I think he even drove me back home.

We’re back in the bed. Staring at the TV. Wearing our uniforms. Praying for sleep. Or maybe even death. It’s hard to tell some days.

I hope he goes home soon. I have a birthday coming up. They expect me to be semi-sociable. #sigh

Donna

Donna

MY LIFE HAS CHANGED by Andrea Turner

I have to say my life has changed so much.

I'll admit, I was really bad when I was younger. Drank alcohol everyday. But since my diagnosis of schizo-affective disorder back in 2007, I don't drink anymore. I don't know that much about meds, but once I was put on meds and had a clear mind, my thinking changed altogether.

I do have a social drink now and then, but not like I used to. Now, I really don't care for alcohol. I drink a lot of coffee and I know that's not good either. I don't use drugs  — only the ones prescribed. I understand about serious mental illness and remember what I went through. It's hell for the person hearing the voices. Well, for me, anyway.

I like the life I'm living today and never want to go back to my old life again. I know too many people who've passed away because they were living the kind of life I was living.

Andrea, her dad, Howard and Duke

Andrea, her dad, Howard and Duke