Mental Health - what to do?
Copying this article below so that I can find it again.
I think a lot about what I want my "second career" to be, at such time as I can afford to no longer work in the litigation industry. How do I want to engage my intelligence, dedication, and passion in a way to make the world a better place? Figuring out some way to make a difference to our society, and in the process to provide compassionate and capable care to individuals in need is a goal.
Food for thought. . .
From http://www.sfgate.com/opinion/openforum/article/I-am-Adam-Lanza-s-mother-4125542.php
Friday's horrific national tragedy - the murder of 20 children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School
in Newtown, Conn. - has ignited a new discussion on violence in
America. In kitchens and coffee shops across the country, we tearfully
debate the many faces of violence in America: gun culture, media
violence, lack of mental health services, overt and covert wars abroad,
religion, politics and the way we raise our children. Liza Long, a writer in Boise, Idaho, says it's easy to talk about guns. But it's time to talk about mental illness.
- The Blue Review
Three days before 20-year-old Adam Lanza
killed his mother, then opened fire on a classroom full of Connecticut
first-graders, my 13-year-old son, Michael (not his name), missed his
bus because he was wearing the wrong color pants.
"I can wear these pants," he said, his tone increasingly belligerent, the black-hole
pupils of his eyes swallowing the blue irises.
"They are navy blue," I told him. "Your school's dress code says black or khaki pants only."
"They told me I could wear these," he insisted. "You're a stupid bitch. I can
wear whatever pants I want to. This is America. I have rights!"
"You can't wear whatever pants you want to," I said, my tone affable,
reasonable. "And you definitely cannot call me a stupid bitch. You're
grounded from electronics for the rest of the day. Now get in the car,
and I will take you to school."
I live with a son who is mentally ill. I love my son. But he terrifies me.
A few weeks ago, Michael pulled a knife and threatened to kill me and
then himself after I asked him to return his overdue library books. His
7- and 9-year-old siblings knew the safety plan - they ran to the car
and locked the doors before I even asked them to. I managed to get the
knife from Michael, then methodically collected all the sharp objects in
the house into a single Tupperware container that now travels with me.
Through it all, he continued to scream insults at me and threaten to
kill or hurt me.
That conflict ended with three burly police officers and a paramedic wrestling my son onto a gurney for an expensive
ambulance ride to the local emergency room. The mental hospital didn't
have any beds that day, and Michael calmed down nicely in the ER, so
they sent us home with a prescription for Zyprexa and a follow-up visit with a local pediatric psychiatrist.
We still don't know what's wrong with Michael. Autism spectrum, ADHD,
oppositional defiant or intermittent explosive disorder have all been
tossed around at various meetings with probation officers and social
workers and counselors and teachers and school administrators. He's been
on a slew of antipsychotic and mood-altering pharmaceuticals, a Russian
novel of behavioral plans. Nothing seems to work.
At the start of seventh grade, Michael was accepted to an accelerated program for
highly gifted math and science students. His IQ is off the charts. When
he's in a good mood, he will gladly bend your ear on subjects ranging
from Greek mythology to the differences between Einsteinian and
Newtonian physics to "Doctor Who." He's in a good mood most of the time.
But when he's not, watch out. And it's impossible to predict what will
set him off.
Several weeks into the term at his new junior high school, Michael began exhibiting increasingly odd and threatening
behaviors at school. We decided to transfer him to the district's most
restrictive behavioral program, a contained school environment where
children who can't function in normal classrooms can access their right
to free public babysitting from 7:30 a.m. to 1:50 p.m. Monday through
Friday until they turn 18.
The morning of the pants incident, Michael continued to argue with me on the drive. He occasionally would
apologize and seem remorseful. Right before we were to turn into his
school parking lot, he said, "Look, Mom, I'm really sorry. Can I have
video games back today?"
"No way," I told him. "You cannot act the way you acted this morning and
think you can get your electronic privileges back that quickly."
His face turned cold, and his eyes were full of calculated rage. "Then I'm
going to kill myself," he said. "I'm going to jump out of this car right
now and kill myself."
That was it. After the knife incident, I told him that if he ever said those words again, I would take him
straight to the mental hospital, no ifs, ands or buts. I did not
respond, except to pull the car into the opposite lane, turning left
instead of right.
"Where are you taking me?" he said, suddenly worried. "Where are we going?"
"You know where we are going," I replied.
"No! You can't do that to me! You're sending me to hell! You're sending me straight to hell!"
I pulled up in front of the hospital, frantically waving for one of the
clinicians who happened to be standing outside. "Call the police," I
said. "Hurry."
Michael was in a full-blown fit by then, screaming
and hitting. I hugged him close so he couldn't escape from the car. He
bit me several times and repeatedly jabbed his elbows into my rib cage.
I'm still stronger than he is, but I won't be for much longer.
The police came quickly and carried my son screaming and kicking into the
bowels of the hospital. I started to shake, and tears filled my eyes as I
filled out the paperwork - "Were there any difficulties with ... at
what age did your child ... were there any problems with ... has your
child ever experienced ... does your child have ..."
At least we have health insurance now. I recently accepted a position with a local college,
giving up my freelance career because when you have a kid like this,
you need benefits. You'll do anything for benefits. No individual
insurance plan will cover this kind of thing.
For days, my son insisted that I was lying - that I made the whole thing up so that I
could get rid of him. The first day, when I called to check up on him,
he said, "I hate you. And I'm going to get my revenge as soon as I get
out of here."
By day three, he was my calm, sweet boy again, all
apologies and promises to get better. I've heard those promises for
years. I don't believe them anymore.
On the intake form, under the question, "What are your expectations for treatment?" I wrote, "I need help."
And I do. This problem is too big for me to handle on my own. Sometimes
there are no good options. So you just pray for grace and trust that in
hindsight, it will all make sense.
I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza's mother. I am Dylan Klebold's and Eric Harris' mothers. I am James Holmes' mother. I am Jared Loughner's mother. I am Seung-Hui Cho's
mother. And these boys - and their mothers - need help. In the wake of
another horrific national tragedy, it's easy to talk about guns. But
it's time to talk about mental illness.
According to Mother Jones magazine, since 1982, 61 mass murders involving firearms have occurred throughout
the country. Of these, 43 of the killers were white males, and only one
was a woman. Mother Jones focused on whether the killers obtained their
guns legally (most did). But this highly visible sign of mental illness
should lead us to consider how many people in the United States live in
fear, as I do.
When I asked my son's social worker about my
options, he said that the only thing I could do was to get Michael
charged with a crime. "If he's back in the system, they'll create a
paper trail," he said. "That's the only way you're ever going to get
anything done. No one will pay attention to you unless you've
got charges."
I don't believe my son belongs in jail. A chaotic
environment exacerbates Michael's sensitivity to sensory stimuli and
doesn't deal with the underlying pathology. But it seems as if the
United States is using prison as the solution of choice for mentally ill
people. According to Human Rights Watch, the number of mentally ill
inmates in U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and it continues
to rise - in fact, the rate of inmate mental illness is five times
greater (56 percent) than in the non-incarcerated population.
With state-run treatment centers and hospitals shuttered, prison is now the
last resort for the mentally ill - Rikers Island in New York, the L.A.
County Jail in California and Cook County Jail in Illinois housed the
nation's largest treatment centers in 2011.
No one wants to send a 13-year-old genius who loves Harry Potter and his snuggle animal
collection to jail. But our society, with its stigma on mental illness
and its broken health care system, does not provide us with other
options. Then another tortured soul shoots up a fast-food restaurant. A
mall. A first-grade classroom. And we wring our hands and say,
"Something must be done."
I agree that something must be done. It's time for a meaningful, nationwide conversation about mental health.
That's the only way our nation can ever truly heal.
God help me. God help Michael. God help us all.
Reprinted with permission from the Blue Review, a publication of the College of Social Sciences and Public Affairs at Boise State University. thebluereview.org
Liza Long is an author and single mother of four children. She lives in Boise, Idaho.
Read more: http://www.sfgate.com/opinion/openforum/article/I-am-Adam-Lanza-s-mother-4125542.php#ixzz2FQHQw8AY