Searching For Light In The Darkness Of Insanity
I've been in a funk lately, alternately frustrated and depressed about my son's mental illness. Some days I think my emotions are scrambled, irrational and contradictive. I worry about my son's future, especially the years after I'm gone, and I worry about his present, the fact he has no life beyond these walls, no friends.
In early 2012 he applied for Social Security Disability Income. I have mixed feelings on this. On one hand he certainly qualifies for assistance but on the other hand it will become another crutch preventing him from getting off his crazy-lazy ass. The fact I support and protect him from himself and the outside world makes me feel like an enabler, his safety net. A steady income on the backs of the taxpayers would only make matter worse. James will never need to work, produce, achieve or even think about doing something with his life.
In July he was given nutrition assistance, the P.C. term for food stamps. In August he recieved word that he was approved for SSDI and will start receiving a few hundred dollars per month. He also has AHCCSS, state medical coverage. I didn't think he would get any of this with the severe budget cuts, but there it is, his free ride. I'm sickened by the handout, which is a direct contradiction to my concerns for his future well being. I suspect his mental illness is making me crazy. I can't help but feel this is dirty money, unearned, taken from the system. Less abled people should be getting this.
A few weeks back I was in Safeway picking up a some groceries. A mentally handicapped young man was bagging. He inspected each item as he placed it in the bag. "PEANUT BUTTER! I love Jiffy. Peanut butter is good." He mentally processed the next item. "EGGS. I like mine scrambled." It was hilarious to watch, and a little heart warming. If he didn't recognize the item he quietly bagged it. "Brocolli." He made a scrunchy face. "Brocolli is gross. Blech" The cashier could barely contain herself. His handicap was obvious, as was his joy. He seemed quite happy working at Safeway and I imagined his parents/care givers are thrilled that he has this job, a place to go, people to interact with. He has no college degree like my son, is not likely highly intelligent or particularly articulate, but here he is living his life with some level of pride and productivity. He's doing the best he can. I wanted to hug him.
This is what depresses me about my son, his aimless existence, inability to get up and do something, and the prospect of a lonely life after I'm gone. I don't see his SSDI and food stamps as a blessing. I see them as a curse. I know this is worngheaded, but I cannot help what I feel inside.
Once a month he goes shopping with Cheryl and pays for that weeks groceries, his contribution to the household. I have not asked him for any of his new found income. I don't want that money. I want nothing to do with his handouts. His mom and Cheryl expect him to pay something towards our household expenses but I cannot bring myself to make that decision. I realize he'll just blow that money on something he doesn't need, like fast food or ballgame tickets. He's already talking about Christmas shopping as if Social Security is meant for whatever the hell he feels like spending it on.
I don't know what to do. I'm searching for the bright side of this, but all I feel is dark, brooding angst and depression over what my son's life has become. There was so much promise and now there seems little to be hopeful for. I have these phases of unhappiness over his lot. I'll be down for a few days, maybe a week, then I snap out of it. I'm hoping this writing exercise helps the darkness pass.
In early 2012 he applied for Social Security Disability Income. I have mixed feelings on this. On one hand he certainly qualifies for assistance but on the other hand it will become another crutch preventing him from getting off his crazy-lazy ass. The fact I support and protect him from himself and the outside world makes me feel like an enabler, his safety net. A steady income on the backs of the taxpayers would only make matter worse. James will never need to work, produce, achieve or even think about doing something with his life.
In July he was given nutrition assistance, the P.C. term for food stamps. In August he recieved word that he was approved for SSDI and will start receiving a few hundred dollars per month. He also has AHCCSS, state medical coverage. I didn't think he would get any of this with the severe budget cuts, but there it is, his free ride. I'm sickened by the handout, which is a direct contradiction to my concerns for his future well being. I suspect his mental illness is making me crazy. I can't help but feel this is dirty money, unearned, taken from the system. Less abled people should be getting this.
A few weeks back I was in Safeway picking up a some groceries. A mentally handicapped young man was bagging. He inspected each item as he placed it in the bag. "PEANUT BUTTER! I love Jiffy. Peanut butter is good." He mentally processed the next item. "EGGS. I like mine scrambled." It was hilarious to watch, and a little heart warming. If he didn't recognize the item he quietly bagged it. "Brocolli." He made a scrunchy face. "Brocolli is gross. Blech" The cashier could barely contain herself. His handicap was obvious, as was his joy. He seemed quite happy working at Safeway and I imagined his parents/care givers are thrilled that he has this job, a place to go, people to interact with. He has no college degree like my son, is not likely highly intelligent or particularly articulate, but here he is living his life with some level of pride and productivity. He's doing the best he can. I wanted to hug him.
This is what depresses me about my son, his aimless existence, inability to get up and do something, and the prospect of a lonely life after I'm gone. I don't see his SSDI and food stamps as a blessing. I see them as a curse. I know this is worngheaded, but I cannot help what I feel inside.
Once a month he goes shopping with Cheryl and pays for that weeks groceries, his contribution to the household. I have not asked him for any of his new found income. I don't want that money. I want nothing to do with his handouts. His mom and Cheryl expect him to pay something towards our household expenses but I cannot bring myself to make that decision. I realize he'll just blow that money on something he doesn't need, like fast food or ballgame tickets. He's already talking about Christmas shopping as if Social Security is meant for whatever the hell he feels like spending it on.
I don't know what to do. I'm searching for the bright side of this, but all I feel is dark, brooding angst and depression over what my son's life has become. There was so much promise and now there seems little to be hopeful for. I have these phases of unhappiness over his lot. I'll be down for a few days, maybe a week, then I snap out of it. I'm hoping this writing exercise helps the darkness pass.