I Can't Help It

I see so many people who claim they or their children "can't help it" because they are ill or disabled.  Yes, there are things we can't help. My own illness means I have a whispering demon in my head.  It used to be a shouting demon, but my medicine turns the volume down considerably, and I take steps to actively ignore it.

I've got other health problems, too...  I'm diabetic.  I have a lazy thyroid and too much fat in my blood.  I'm overweight.  But none of these gives me the right to disregard my fellow human beings.  Depression is, obviously, the worst of my illnesses.  Because of it, I often do - or want to do - things that compound the others.  I sometimes don't eat, or eat stuff I shouldn't.  I don't get enough exercise.  Checking my blood sugar is too much work.  On the surface, none of that seems like I'm hurting anyone but myself.  But what happens if I pass out or have a heart attack?

There are smaller issues, too.  My few responsibilities to others sometimes are not met.  These people are correct in calling me on it. To claim others should let me get away with slacking off because I "can't help it" is wrong. Just today, I cleaned the litter box and forgot to sweep up the scattered litter around it.  When I was reminded, I did it.  Sometimes, I'm so down I don't even want to bathe.  Should I walk around all stinky and expect everyone else to deal with it because I "can't help" it?

I do ask for help - my family and friends are known to take a cookie right out of my hand or remind me that I have to pick the boy up from school.  Some of them are more tactful than others, but that's okay.  There is no shame in admitting you need help.

There are, and will be, times that the problem gets out of control.  The goal is to minimize those times - so that when they come, others will not ignore my need for extra help or simply for patience.  I minimize those times by controlling my actions.

I see kids today getting away with murder (not literally) because they have one of those Alphabet Soup illnesses.  This is counter-productive.  These kids should be getting taught to work around and deal with the problem, not to hide behind it.  They need to learn how to ask for help, not how to demand subservience. The parents in question think they are helping, but they really aren't.  The real world is not going to accept the excuse.

Second Mom

Well, that day is upon us once again. Social media is overflowing with "Repost this if you love your mother" and "God couldn't be everywhere, so he made Mothers".  Advertisers tell me my mother wants jewelry and chocolates and flowers on her special day. We should always appreciate, but often that becomes taking for granted, so we have a holiday to remind us.

I did not have one of those mothers.  My mother did a lot of things very wrong.  She did have good qualities. It was from her I learned to respect other cultures (Specifically, American Indians, but one thing leads to another.)  She struck terror into the hearts of teachers she felt were dealing unfairly with her children. But the fact is, she should never have been a mother. She simply was not equipped for motherhood.

She did, however, have one of those mothers.  Mamma (pronounced Mam-ma) filled in the gaps to the best of her ability and I worship the ground she walked on.  And there was another, the woman I call my Second Mom.  Not a stepmother (I was never allowed to like her) but the mother of a friend from school.  After over twenty years, that friendship imploded, but Second Mom never turned her back on me.

Both Mamma and Mother are dead now, but every year Second Mom gets a card for Mother's Day.  Even though I was past puberty when I entered her life, she did for me the things a mom should do.  The things Mother didn't do. She helped me through where Mother didn't.  I wish I could see her more often, but circumstances prevent that.

Please, if you comment publicly on this blog, refrain from spewing venom in Mother's direction. This isn't really about her.  It's about Second Mom and how much she still means to me, nearly a decade after I had to walk out of her life for all intents and purposes.

Ancestors

If you could see your ancestors,
All standing in a row, 
There might be some of them, perhaps,
You wouldn't care to know.
But, here's a question which requires a different view: 
If you could meet your ancestors...
 Would they be proud of you?

Someone posted this little ditty in my genealogy group and it set me to thinking.  Would my ancestors be proud of me?  Ashamed?  Indifferent?  So, from what I know of my ancestors, I attempt a reply.  

My ancestors were common folk, mostly farmers and the like.  From what I've heard of them, and the ones I actually have memory of, I don't think my financial status would be of much concern.  They would be more concerned with my work ethic and how I treated people in general.  

My work ethic may not please them.  When I was working, I started out in a job with an excellent ethic.  I'd come in on my days off, work late, clock in early, and do the dirty work.  Yet my spirit would flag quickly, after slights both real and perceived.  Most of the ancestors would, I think, take into account that I have "Nerves".  I'm not sure how I feel about that...  I've always tried not to use my disability as an excuse.  I do stand by my belief that employers need to appreciate those they pay.  To be condescending, to bully, and to exploit are counterproductive.  Often, though, the problem was not nearly as bad as my perception of it.  My ancestors took pride in a days' work well done, and phooey on those who looked down on them.  I somehow am not capable of that.  

I know the fact that I'm 47 and never married (but not a virgin) would alarm many of them.  Either they would see me as a tramp or as the victim of male trickery.   No husband AND no career - some of them would surely see me as someone to pity.  

I've always made it a point to treat others with respect.  I give people the benefit of the doubt.  I become very upset if someone thinks I'm being hateful to them.  If you need ten bucks and I have it, it's yours.  Pay me back when and if you can.  Some of my ancestors might see me as naive or even stupid (plenty of living people do) but I think most of them would be proud of me for that.  

But when it comes down to it, even if they weren't proud, I think they'd find me acceptable.  I've never married or had children, but I'm so good at the Aunt thing I was moved in by a nephew to help with the next generation!  My sister likes to say her son handed his favorite toy (me) down to his son. I've always tried to live by the Golden Rule. I've never been able to keep a job, and there are people I've hurt, but I tried.  And not one of my ancestors is a Jedi named Yoda.

The Lives They Left Behind

"The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases from a State Hospital Attic" is a group of case studies.  Willard Psychiatric Center in New York closed in 1995, after over 100 years in operation.  A large collection of patient belongings, mostly in the still-packed suitcases they had brought with them, was found in an attic.
The authors of this book chose ten of these patients to research, as a representative sample of the half-million patients Willard had treated.

Being a mental patient myself, and a history buff, I was eager to see what the book had to say.  I expected to walk away with a "Thank God we don't get that treatment anymore" but I was sadly wrong.   On one hand, the book details treatments that are mercifully no longer in use and issues that would be today dealt with on an outpatient basis.  On the other hand, I identified very strongly with the plights of these people.

One of them was a nun, unsure if she'd been defrocked after her Mother Superior was, who simply wanted answers.  Her pleas were ignored by the local diocese and she was committed because she could not cope with life outside the Church.  Had the hospital pushed the diocese for her answers or taught her coping techniques, she could have been 'cured' (in my opinion) within a year.  As it was, the poor woman regressed to childhood and even created her own reality.

Too many of the ten reminded me of my own history.  Not the 'causes' of their problems, but the way in which the world treated them and, in effect, drove them into further madness.  The first signs were ignored or resulted in punishment.  When the patients asked for help, they were hypochondriacs or even just jonesing for attention.(Which begs the question, how bad is it if we must go to those lengths for a little attention?)

One of them was a veteran who was getting the run-around from the military about his pension.  They wanted him to see a psychiatrist.  The psychiatrist told him not to come in until he had the man's records. From what I can tell, he simply lost his temper in public and was institutionalized.  He died at Willard, some forty years later.

These are similar to many of the problems I faced.  From early childhood, I went to those who were supposed to help me and they did not.  My mother blamed me for being molested.  School Faculty did nothing about bullying or about signs that I was, at best, neglected at home. When I lashed out in anger, I was punished.  When as an adult, I went to the boss or even the UFCW, I had an attitude problem.  Even after I was diagnosed depressive, this was the pattern.

Like many of the patients in the book, I eventually found a place were I felt safe and could function.  Unlike them, I have the freedom to come and go as I please.  Society has come a long way towards how we treat the mentally ill, but I'm sad to say it seems not much progress in being made in the area of prevention.  Still we 'mind our own business' or brush aside what we see as trivial concerns.  Still we let the seeds of mental illness take root and grow.  Worse, we fertilize them with propaganda and empty promises.

I recommend "The Lives They Left Behind" for no other reason than this:  It serves as a guide.  It will show the reader what they should NOT do when someone comes to them for help. Like forest fires, I honestly believe that you can prevent madness.  If you can't prevent it, you can at least keep it from reaching catastrophic proportions.

The Evolution of Language

There was many years ago a hoax that someone won an election with the following speech: "Are you aware that Claude Pepper is known all over Washington as a shameless extrovert? Not only that, but this man is reliably reported to practice nepotism with his sister-in-law, he has a brother who is a known homo sapiens, and he has a sister who was once a thespian in wicked New York. Worst of all, it is an established fact that Mr. Pepper, before his marriage, habitually practiced celibacy." 

The mindless masses did not bother to find a definition for these words, according to the story, but simply believed they must be something vile.  The saddest part of all this is the fact that it could happen.  Currently, the politicians and the media are tossing around the word "entitlement" as if it is something a freeloader gets.  That is not the definition of the word.  An entitlement is something you have earned, something you are entitled to.  Freeloaders are not entitled.  The SSDI check I get each month is an entitlement.  The welfare check you get temporarily while between jobs is an entitlement - you paid your taxes, didn't you?  

There is a phenomenon called Cultural Language Shift, which I've heard used to excuse this misuse of the word.  Cultural Language Shift is the way in which languages evolve.  For example, the word celibate originally meant unmarried.  Usually, the unmarried were chaste.  The two words - chaste and celibate - came to be seen as synonyms.  However!  This is brought about by the proper usage of the words in question and takes decades, if not centuries.  

The use of "entitlement" is not a case of Cultural Language Shift.  It is a case of mindless masses believing an extrovert is someone harmful to society.  It is the linguistic version of passing on an urban legend.  "This is the what was meant" is no different from "That's what I heard".   

And while I'm at it, literally does not mean what most of y'all think it does.  

Climate Change

This Polar Vortex that keeps jumping out of the Arctic Circle has fired up a lot of talk about that old chestnut Global Warning, or as they now call it, Climate Change.  My opinion on the subject is pretty simple - humans once again show their conceit by blaming themselves for it.  We have only been crawling around Mother Earth for moments in her time and we've been keeping track of weather patterns for less than a relative second.  It is presumptuous of us to think we've impacted anything.

We have polluted the planet, no doubt, but we don't need to worry about saving the planet.  She was around long before we were and will outlast us by eons.  What we have done to this planet is a flea bite or maybe a bad rash.  We need to become aware that the damage we're doing to the planet is going to hurt us - possibly even kill us.  The things we have caused are nothing more than the planet's immune system trying to wipe out an infection.  We need to worry about saving us.

We can't and never will control nature.  We likely didn't cause and can't stop a polar vortex.  We need to accept that we are not the boss of Mother Earth.  We need to adapt, to evolve, to become a part of her systems and cycles.  Or those same systems and cycles will kill us as surely as they did the dinosaurs.

It won't happen tomorrow, and it won't happen quickly, at least not by our reckoning.  By hers, maybe, but not by ours.  And if we smarten up, it may not happen at all.

Basic Truths About Disability That Are Lies

Basic Truths About Disability That Are Lies:

That disabled person looks fine, therefore they are a fraud.   There are many disabilities that are not easily seen.  My own is a mental problem and I don't "look crazy".  A guy with a slipped disk in his back is not going to look like Quasimodo.  He's gonna look like a guy...  and yes, it can be bad enough to keep him from working, especially if he is uneducated and/or untrained.  My own problem is made worse by job stress...  in fact, the Social Security office told me I can work if I can find a job without a boss, co-workers, or public dealings.  They didn't word it that way, but that's what it came down to.

Anyone can apply and get it real easy. I applied several times, over many years, before I got it.  My successful attempt took three years and I still view it as some kind of miracle.  If you have worked with your 'disability', prepare for a battle.  If your doctor says you can work, you may as well not apply.  

The disabled person has no commitments.   I do light housework every day, I drive a third grader to and from school, I drive an adult to and from work, I have doctor appointments, and I sometimes even socialize.  Do not assume I can do whatever it is you want me to do - be it meet you for lunch or act as Primary Care Giver to an elderly relative.

Disability Income is generous.  I get less than 700 dollars a month.  Granted, my job history was mostly part-time and minimum wage, but even if you've worked decades in a high-paying job, what you are entitled to from Social Security is a pretty low percentage of that income. Your standard of living is not going to remain the same.

It is easy to defraud them.   I've already covered this under the first one, but I want to add something.  If anyone has managed to get through the application and screening procedures without actually having some sort of disability, I applaud them.  He or she is a genius.

Being Disabled is a cakewalk.  Whether your disability is physical or mental, it is not fun or easy to live with.  I spend my days with a freakin' demon inside my head, whispering to me constantly.  The slipped-disc guy can't even take out his trash without pain, or fear of pain.  The lady in a wheelchair is all kinds of inconvenienced.   The very idea of needing to count on others is bad for self-esteem.