Former first lady Rosalynn Carter has always made mental health part of her platform, and continues to educate. Check out this video and her latest book, Within Our Reach.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/mpd/permalink/m3Q34F82H33GZK
People with mental illness deserve respect. Their courage is enormous, the obstacles often beyond comprehension for those who don't understand. Ben earned another six college credits this semester, and is on the Dean's list. Amazing! He's getting his life back in small steps. Never, never compare his progress to someone else his age whose brain functions without illness. There are other yardsticks to use.
When I cleaned out my son Ben’s apartment seven years ago, I found a little metal box.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Bring Change 2 Mind
Want a wonderful site to learn more about advocacy and acceptance? Check out http://www.bringchange2mind.org/. Glenn Close, co-founder, will speak to neuroscientists in November. Also, as always, check out NAMI for education, support, info - national at http://www.nami.org/ or your state affiliate.
Ben received an evaluation from his drama professor, who has no idea he has schizophrenia. Evaluated him against professional acting standards. Effort? An A. Acting skills? B- or C+, maybe (and the acting skills grade in the one that he will probably get in the course).
My own inner voice is shouting "not fair!!!" Would a physical education professor penalize a runner with an arthritic knee for not being able to win the race? Ben is devastated. For him, memorizing and delivering his monologue, knowing and executing all his blocking and lines, being a reliable cast member - he thinks he did a wonderful job. So do I. Every class attended, every assignment in on time -- is it fair to grade according to these exacting acting skills alone? Especially when Ben's scholarship depends on his grades?
If he hadn't tried, I'd leave it alone. But his commitment and hard work were never in question.
The dilemma: do I tell the professor about how hard Ben struggles sometimes just to follow a conversation, much less remain focused for an entire play? Does he know what a miracle it was that Ben completed this? Do I, as Ben's conservator, step in and give the professor this info? It soesn't seem fair that, now that Ben can "hide" his symptoms with the help of meds that also dull much of his energy, for him to be graded on a lack of physical energy on stage.
Dilemma. I so want to Bring Change 2 the Mind of that professor....
Ben received an evaluation from his drama professor, who has no idea he has schizophrenia. Evaluated him against professional acting standards. Effort? An A. Acting skills? B- or C+, maybe (and the acting skills grade in the one that he will probably get in the course).
My own inner voice is shouting "not fair!!!" Would a physical education professor penalize a runner with an arthritic knee for not being able to win the race? Ben is devastated. For him, memorizing and delivering his monologue, knowing and executing all his blocking and lines, being a reliable cast member - he thinks he did a wonderful job. So do I. Every class attended, every assignment in on time -- is it fair to grade according to these exacting acting skills alone? Especially when Ben's scholarship depends on his grades?
If he hadn't tried, I'd leave it alone. But his commitment and hard work were never in question.
The dilemma: do I tell the professor about how hard Ben struggles sometimes just to follow a conversation, much less remain focused for an entire play? Does he know what a miracle it was that Ben completed this? Do I, as Ben's conservator, step in and give the professor this info? It soesn't seem fair that, now that Ben can "hide" his symptoms with the help of meds that also dull much of his energy, for him to be graded on a lack of physical energy on stage.
Dilemma. I so want to Bring Change 2 the Mind of that professor....
Saturday, May 8, 2010
"Schizo!!!"
Last night, 7 PM. Place: our local community college. Event: theatre department's performance of Lanford Wilson's play, Book of Days. Ben has a nice size role in this, including a page-long monologue he worked hard to memorize. Ben, who has been hospitalized seven times in his lifetime for various degress of psychosis, has come far enough to be in this, his second play in one year. He may major in theatre. No future in it? I do not care. Ben is completing six credits each semester, and is not cracking under the pressure. A miracle.
Few know how much of a miracle it really is. Certainly not the 20-something girl seated in front of us, head to head with her boyfriend. They're looking at the program before the house lights dim for the start of the play. "Ben Kaye," says the boyfriend. "I know him." "Me, too." says the girl. She rolls her eyes and adds, "more like - Ben schizo!", her tone a schoolgirl taunt.
I am schocked. I am shocked at how shocked I actually am. And hurt. Here I sit, so proud of Ben, so thrilled to be attending this play that he has worked to memorize and perform. He is part of something, my child whose illness adds countless obstacles to socialization, to caring, to focus, to belonging somewhere. And this - this ignorant girl. How dare she! I want to grab her by the wrist, take her out into the hall, and educate her as to how brave my son really is. I want to make her sit down and read about schizophrenia. I want the stigma to stop.
I share my thoughts with my husband and daughter. Ali looks at this girl, my Cruella de Ville, and takes in her appearance: fishnet stockings, too-short skirt, heavy make-up, superior sneer. "Mom," she says, "all I can say is - consider the source."
Later I will see that Cruella will behave without manners throughout the play: whispering to her neighbors, texting, leaving and re-entering the theatre many times while the play is in progress. Sacrilige. Consider the source, indeed. I don't want to hate this girl, but I do. She has insulted my son.
After the curtain call (and Ben has performed really well, thank you very much), Cruella runs up to Ben and gives him a big hug. Hypocrite or friend? I don't know, I don't ask. But it softens my heart a bit toward her. She can't help her own ignorance. But I want to wipe this stigma away with the truth. I want Ben to have the respect he deserves. I want this for every brave person coping with mental illness.
Few know how much of a miracle it really is. Certainly not the 20-something girl seated in front of us, head to head with her boyfriend. They're looking at the program before the house lights dim for the start of the play. "Ben Kaye," says the boyfriend. "I know him." "Me, too." says the girl. She rolls her eyes and adds, "more like - Ben schizo!", her tone a schoolgirl taunt.
I am schocked. I am shocked at how shocked I actually am. And hurt. Here I sit, so proud of Ben, so thrilled to be attending this play that he has worked to memorize and perform. He is part of something, my child whose illness adds countless obstacles to socialization, to caring, to focus, to belonging somewhere. And this - this ignorant girl. How dare she! I want to grab her by the wrist, take her out into the hall, and educate her as to how brave my son really is. I want to make her sit down and read about schizophrenia. I want the stigma to stop.
I share my thoughts with my husband and daughter. Ali looks at this girl, my Cruella de Ville, and takes in her appearance: fishnet stockings, too-short skirt, heavy make-up, superior sneer. "Mom," she says, "all I can say is - consider the source."
Later I will see that Cruella will behave without manners throughout the play: whispering to her neighbors, texting, leaving and re-entering the theatre many times while the play is in progress. Sacrilige. Consider the source, indeed. I don't want to hate this girl, but I do. She has insulted my son.
After the curtain call (and Ben has performed really well, thank you very much), Cruella runs up to Ben and gives him a big hug. Hypocrite or friend? I don't know, I don't ask. But it softens my heart a bit toward her. She can't help her own ignorance. But I want to wipe this stigma away with the truth. I want Ben to have the respect he deserves. I want this for every brave person coping with mental illness.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)