If my city changed the way they think about mental illness and instituted long term programs and better family rights, the homeless problem would be reduced by eighty percent. It�s kind of infuriating. Recognizing the physical habits such as mouth-gnashing, I counted all the schizophrenics I saw begging along the boulevard that leads to the freeway. One, two, three, four�five� Six. Seven. Eight.
Not the best road trip game.
I devoted my weekend to research and found some books, a video, and a non profit organization that specializes in bipolar and schizophrenia. They offer a free class and group therapy for families of the mentally ill, which is nice. I�m much more interested in assisted housing, which of course involves a very long waiting list, giving preference to patients who have already committed murder and such. What usually happens to the involuntarily committed is a very brief stay in a hospital until the medicine takes effect. The vast majority are then sent home with pills, which they almost always stop taking, and become ill again. Since my mother�s illness has no cure, the cycle repeats and repeats, draining everyone, and helping no one.
My brother has already given up trying to help her and thinks I should follow suit. I agree, but it�s easier said than done. I keep picturing my mother being slowly eaten by a monster that has taken over her body, knowing that underneath the violent paranoia and delusions is a good human being that has been taken hostage against her will. I want to yell �Somebody DO something, that�s my MOM in there!�
Her lawyer quit this week, citing her instability.
I�ve decided to give myself a three week hiatus from trying to be a superhero. For safety, I recommended to my dad to request additional patrol in his neighborhood and acquire a new restraining order, which he did. Aside from that, all we can do is cross our fingers that no one gets hurt, and try to live our own lives.
3:23 p.m. - 2008-10-21