Lets train

Memaw gave me this framed picture for Christmas. I believe she has this print in her house because it already reminded me of her before she gifted it to me.



With it came a typed note to explain that when Truman hit his head on my parents' foosball table over Thanksgiving, she immediately thought about how someone must have been watching over my little boy during that incident. It still boggles my mind to think about how badly he could have been injured because I still hear the loud SMACK ringing in my ears months later. How did he not smash his eyeball, losing his vision? What about the bridge of his little nose? Or all of his front teeth? How is it possible that he fell 'perfectly' into the table and only got a small cut on the outside of his eye that didn't need stitches, along with a wicked shiner? I have to agree with Memaw on this one. An angel must have prevented a horrible injury in my parents' basement.

I don't know how you feel about God and faith and angels. Obviously all three of these concepts are fairly abstract and difficult to 'prove', which is why so many people can't accept them for reality. I'm not sure about a floating spirit with wings in the literal sense, but I do believe that there are times when we have God or something else very kind and loving watching out for us. Guiding us through dark times. Even though God doesn't stop all awful things from happening to us, I do believe he wants the best for us and has our backs in most cases.

This post wasn't supposed to be a debate about religion and angels, so I hope I didn't just open up the proverbial can of worms. But I wanted to tell you a story about Truman and his discovery of this picture Memaw gave to me.

On Good Friday, the kids were in my bedroom with me as I got dressed after a shower. Truman was running around the room like a mad man, as always and suddenly he noticed this picture sitting on the bottom shelf of my side table.

'Who is that, Mommy?' he asked me.

'Oh, that's a picture Memaw gave to me. It's an angel watching over a little boy and girl as they cross a bridge. I think the angel is protecting the kids while they are walking,' I replied, holding my breath that he wouldn't be too freaked out about the idea of a giant, winged person hovering over children. But he was shockingly silent for minutes. Let's remember that he is three and therefore he is NEVER silent for minutes. Heck, nothing holds his attention for longer than 1 minute so it was a pretty big deal to see him quietly staring at the picture. I wish I could have peeked into his little brain as the wheels were turning.

I asked him, 'Do you like that picture, buddy?'

'Yeah. I do. Can I take it with me into the hallway?' he wanted to know, because I told him I was moving into the bathroom next, to fix my hair.

'Sure you can, buddy,' I told him and I started getting a little choked up. My precious boy---who loves to push my buttons when the mood suits him---was really attached to this image of an angel watching over two children. There was just something kind of surreal and 'stop everything and pay attention' about that moment for me. Which is why I'm blogging about it now.

He ended up laying on the ground, looking at the picture even longer and then asked to move it into Cecelia's room with us. I didn't know what to ask him at this point but I hoped he would ask me his questions about it.

Next thing I knew, he pointed right at the angel and said, 'That's you, mommy.' (Heart melted). (Gulp).

I told him that I loved the idea of mommy watching over a little boy and girl, which could be Truman and Cecelia. One of each, holding hands and crossing the bridge together--venturing out on their own, or perhaps 'growing up' and becoming more independent. Moving away from constant care from their parents and out into the huge world before them. I mean, talk about some symbolism. Let's not focus on the fact that Truman said I looked angelic (and ghostly pale, and a little eerie, with enormous black eyebrows).

He seemed to like my explanation of these three characters, so I went on to say that any time I have to leave Truman I always think of him. Lately we've been talking about how we miss each other when we are apart. On our drive back home from Lori's he will usually tell me, 'I missed you today, mommy.' It's really amazing--my tender-hearted boy. I'd like to promise I can watch over him and protect him from anything scary but of course, but wouldn't we all wish for that superpower in this frightening world?

As a mom, I think that is the hardest part of parenting: knowing you cannot protect them from pain. They will have to make mistakes, have broken hearts, and have their innocence revoked at some point. Oh, it hurts my heart just to think of anyone being cruel to my kids. It makes me angry, actually, but it's also sad to think about bullies and peer pressure and having to navigate our society. I suppose that is all apart of growing up and our parents survived us going through each stage, and we will survive, too. All the more reason to savor their innocence now---even when Truman is being downright naughty, the whiny/needy stuff is still probably easier to tolerate than the heavy emotional fatigue that comes with parenting a middle-schooler/high-schooler and beyond. I'm tired as heck right now and parenting small kids is ridiculously hard; physically hard. But I can't even imagine the emotions that will come with parenting a teenager. And I won't even talk about parenting a teenage girl in this post---we'll keep it mostly about my son for now;)

I told Truman that God and maybe even angels are always with him and his sister even if mommy can't be right there. Then I told him that I love him more than he will ever know and I miss him when we are apart. I didn't tell him that I also crave my time alone in order to maintain my sanity. It's all about balance and on the days I feel well-balanced, I feel like I can conquer the world. Just wish those balanced days happened more often but I'll take those rare beauties any time they pop up.

Not only did Truman tell me I was the angel in the painting, but he is now also telling me (without being asked): "Mommy, you are my best friend." Sigh.

I don't think there is anything sweeter in the entire world than that statement right there. So I shall video tape it and watch it every night when he is 16 and hates his lame/overbearing/annoying/dorky mom. And I will probably cry in the corner, while watching my precious three year old say I'm his best friend. Because I kind of want to cry now just thinking about it. Let's hope he is a mama's boy forever and his future wife not only understands, but adores me. One can hope, right? ;)

Thank you God for this precious boy of mine. Help me to be patient with him. And help me create more time for myself so I can be a better mother to him when we are together. Thank you for those moments when the world stops and becomes very clear--remind me to slow down and appreciate them more often.

Anger. Fury. Frustration.

Just a few words to describe my viewpoint towards the nature of care that the mentally ill receive in this country. While in some ways America has made progress in the civil rights and treatment of our mentally ill (we are no longer locking them up in scary, sub-standard facilities with a minimum of three signatures to be subjected to heavy medication and electro-shock therapy), however I feel that we have now allowed the pendulum to swing too far the other way. In my opinion, the mentally ill are now quite literally suffering and dying from their own freedoms and with it, so suffer the people and families around them.

While the movie "A Beautiful Mind," starring Russel Crowe, which tells the true story of an academic suffering from schizophrenia, ended in a more or less happy ending with the character coming to terms with his affliction and living a productive life, not all individuals suffering from mental illness in America will be so lucky.

This blog is supposed to be about issues affecting families and in my opinion this is a major one. Not to mention it is highly personal at this exact moment considering the drama that is currently unfolding on the street that I live on. At the end of my street a very nice gentleman about my same age is living alone with only his pets for company. This same man, when we moved in, was very kind and always stopped when walking his dogs past our house and chatted whenever we were in the front yard. I knew him to be a bit quirky, but never anything but rational and considerate. Then about a year and a half to two years ago he lost his job. People stopped coming to the house not long after that. I still saw him walk his dogs and we talked about him looking for work. Then, within the last six months I started seeing him less and less until one day I realized I hadn't seen him out in quite a while. That is about the time the reports from neighbors started coming in. Strange sightings of him in his front yard arguing with no one. Knocks on peoples doors asking them who he was and why the government was trying to trick him about his identity with false and illegal birth certificates.

Then the police started coming.

The police have been to our street many, many, many times. Sometimes they come in unmarked cars with one or two officers. Sometimes they come with four or five marked SUVs. One particularly alarming day I arrived home to find our street blocked off, no one could come in or out. There were police, fire trucks, ambulances, and animal control vehicles. The result, they knocked on his door, checked that he seemed lucid and left. Another fun weekend night I looked out my living room window to see police in my front yard using bushes and cars on our street as cover and aiming rifles at the house in question. My friend called just then to ask if we were still having dinner since she was stuck at the end of our street unable to get through. Again, nothing happened. They were "just checking on him and there is nothing to worry about." Umm...if there is nothing to worry about, then why do you have multiple rifles trained on the house?

In all fairness, I think they are most likely correct. I had a visit one night shortly after dark. I heard a knock at my door and it was my neighbor. I greeted him and asked if he was ok. He was standing there with a bucket and he asked if he could borrow some water from our front faucet, his had been shut off. He was so polite and lucid I thought maybe he was back on his meds (he told another neighbor he was off of them because he could no longer afford them since he lost his insurance). No such luck though. I told him to please help himself whenever he needed it and that he didn't need to ask each time. He seemed fine right up until I said I was sorry his water was shut off and he started raving about government conspiracies, mind control devices, illegal birth certificates and how his family was behind it all. At no time did I ever get the sense that I was in any danger, but it made me profoundly sad. Then he came by a week or so later and he seemed much more agitated, and much more delusional. He was seemingly unaware of me after a moment and instead was heatedly arguing with the moon. I found it to be unsettling and made me feel a little more uneasy.

WHY, when he so clearly needs assistance are the police doing nothing? I thought, if they are here every other day checking on him, why can't they do something to help?

Being the person that I am, I immediately took to the Internet and began a full-scale search of mental health laws and services in this country, hoping I could find some way to help my neighbor who has never been anything but nice to us. What I found was highly alarming. There have been recent stories in the news, horrifying stories about similar issues with individuals suffering from mental illness. These stories have one thing in common, which is that the family was trying to get the individuals help, but were hand-cuffed by civil rights laws protecting the freedoms of the individual. I found an article here, that discusses neighbors unable to get help for a woman down the street who was holding the entire neighborhood hostage. I found examples just recently in my home state where we have had a 24 year old man who is suspected of killing his mother who tried to get help for him and feared for her life, or the largest mass shooting in American history this year when James Eagan Holmes opened fire in the premiere of the new Batman movie and who apparently had seen a psychiatrist on the CU campus where he attended school who specialized in schizophrenia. There are many more across the United States.

In researching what I might be able to do, I stumbled on to a wonderful article on the history of mental illness treatment in America, "Law Creates Barriers to Getting Care For Mentally Ill", which referenced a database, started in Virginia, called the "Preventable Tragedies Database." (you can search it's contents here) It is compiled by Dr. E. Fuller Torrey. The purpose of this collection is to record and track all tragic events that might have been avoided if only the laws existed to allow for state intervention for mentally ill individuals who are refusing treatment. The importance of this lies in the fact that until an individual shows the potential for imminent harm, or has committed a crime, they cannot be the subject of any state intervention with out their expressed consent and compliance. The downside of this law is that with many mentally ill individuals, there appears to be no identifiable escalation but merely a moment when they finally snap in some fashion.

So, in a horrifying Catch-22, my neighbor who lost his job in a crappy economy and was quirky enough not to immediately get re-hired, is now off of his meds and most likely unable to secure employment at this point. He can not get the assistance he needs because he is refusing to comply and is over 18. As a result of his job loss he has no money to get help, even if he wanted to, and is so far gone that it is doubtful he even understands he needs help. The authorities can do nothing because as long as he seems lucid enough, and has not done harm or is in imminent danger of doing harm, they cannot intervene if he is refusing treatment. Now he is living in a house where he has no water, and possibly no heat or electricity (although I thought I saw his lights on yesterday) with winter coming. It doesn't take a brain scientist to see how this story is going to end. It is going to end one of a few ways. He is finally going to commit harm to others resulting in his getting help through the criminal system, or help will be rendered unnecessary because he commits harm to himself. The other possibility is that he is going end up homeless with nowhere to go and will only be taken in by the state if he commits grievous harm (see previous statement). Either way I think it is deplorable that this story doesn't seem like it has any chance of a happy ending. He is a kind-hearted soul who is devoted to his furry (and scaly) friends and deserves a chance to get back on his feet.

In my opinion, which is hardly an island, America desperately needs to revise the laws to provide law enforcement a greater latitude to intervene when it becomes clear that the individual needs to be forced to continue treatment. In my opinion we need some sort of stepping stone system. It needs to be something that allows someone to maintain their freedoms as much as possible while still allowing the state more latitude in intervention in order to protect its citizens. It should be allowed, if enough community members or family members file complaints or concerns, that the court could issue a mandate of evaluation. It could be sort of a, "Hey your neighbors think you might be mentally unstable, please report to a shrink immediately and let's find out." The psychiatrist could evaluate the patient and decide if treatment is warranted. If it is found to be unjustified, or the neighbors are found to be making baseless accusations, there could be consequences for malicious reporting. But, if the individual is found needing medication, such as in the case of clear-cut hallucinations and they refuse to comply with treatment after three warnings, or if they never report to the initial visit, it could be mandated that they be taken in for a 72 hour treatment and evaluation. If the individual refuses at that point to follow a treatment program, they could then be taken into state custody unless a family member steps up to take responsibility for maintaining their required treatment. We mandate treatment for drug addicts and alcoholics who drive under the influence whether or not they commit harm to someone else. Couldn't we extend the same courtesy to mentally ill patients who desperately need help if they are disturbing the peace or threatening neighbors?

I am praying that I will have a blog post coming sometime in the future where we can celebrate the recovery and assistance that peacefully resolves the situation, but I am far from optimistic. His neighbors are helping as best we can when he will let us (one even offered to pay his water bill if he paid to have it turned back on), but we are a poor offering compared to what he needs; medication, psychiatric care and a social worker/family member who can check up on him.


Update:
You can read the outcome in my post "Failed to Death"

Can I vent a little bit, please? It's been awhile since I whined to the internets and I need to get this off my chest.

This morning was one of 'those' mornings that really sucked. Nothing out of the norm, really, and some mornings have been even worse. But for whatever reason, this morning was just difficult on all fronts.

The kids went back to daycare today after being away for a week, since Lori was off for vacation days, so that in itself was a huge adjustment. I absolutely despise the hurried hustle and bustle of work day mornings---'Come on, Truman---we have to get dressed. Hurry up and eat your breakfast. We need to get going or we are going to be late. Please put on your coat/shoes/hat. And Cecelia, did you REALLY just poop your pants as we are walking out the door?! Ugh.'

Except she isn't pooping in her pants right now and is pretty backed up, making her extra cranky and disgruntled. AND I'm certain that her top teeth are hurting her more than ever, all swollen and seemingly ready to pop through the gums (finally). She is just not herself, she's tired, woke up three times last night (10:30, 1:00, and up for the day at 5:00) and she is NOT liking daycare drop offs. For about three weeks now she will literally lose.her.mind when we get to Lori's. Crying real tears within an instant of walking in the door, then looking at me like I'm abandoning her. It's so sad and I know it's just a phase but it's hard. I will hold her and calm her down but then when I have to go she cries again. Lori says Cecelia is fine by the time I pull away but it's still really difficult to see my baby upset before we are apart for 8 hours.

Also, it's freaking 7 degrees outside. Seven. I hate getting the kids bundled up to get out the door in the mornings. I much preferred the last week when we could just take our merry little time waking up, getting dressed, and starting our day without time restraints. I normally love my job but I haven't seen patients in five days and I'm just not feeling it today. I'm sure once I get going the day will fly by, my kids will be fine at daycare, and I will enjoy helping others. But right now, as I pump for the first of many times today, I am just in a funk. Don't even get me started on how much I hate this darn pump right now. Over it, and I know it's a good thing to keep my supply up, to allow me the ability to nurse. I wouldn't trade that part of it but the time commitment of pumping three times during the day, once before bed, washing pump parts and bottles, preparing milk----it's all so annoying to me now.

Have I unloaded on you enough yet?

I have to get started on my work day and don't have time to read this post for errors, or to lessen the whiny-ness. I have a feeling a lot of other mamas out there have mornings/days/weeks like this, too----when everything is just hard and annoying and tiring. I'm tired. I'm cold. I'm ready for spring and ready to sleep again.

But I do have really cute kids (who I will miss dearly today, I'm sure) and I have a great, flexible job that I enjoy. So that is how I'm going to tie up this downer post---searching for the positive. And with some cute pictures. (That you've probably already seen on IG but I like them enough to post here, too).













Come on, day. Let's get this thing started so I can see my babes again.

Much better now, thanks.