How I Keep the Demons at Bay

By James Mullaney

Therapists, the Goddess and meds

I’ve found psychotherapists to be the only persons I can trust when talking about my mental issues, largely because I don’t feel rejected by them when I open up and describe my thoughts and feelings. It’s impossible to do this with nonprofessionals. My problems are aberrant and abnormal even by DSM-IV TR standards, and would be too disturbing to discuss with anyone other than a mental health professional. No one else is trained to handle it.

When a therapist is kind, open minded and nonjudgemental toward me, I internalize and assimilate her attitude toward myself, so that I’m not torturing myself with constant shame, feelings of inadequacy and deviancy, fear, self-loathing, and despair. This alone has been a lifesaver for me. My therapists have given me the courage and the confidence to face and embrace the part of me which Jung called “the Shadow”: The secret desperado lurking in the backalleys of everybody’s psyche, who happens to make inordinate demands on my conscious attention and who must be placated somehow in order for me to avoid ruining my life in a mad crescendo of violent self-destruction.

Psychotherapists “give me permission” if you will, to explore my own darkest feelings and desires, and to express them in a dialogue with the therapist, without having to act on them. This has been a safety valve for releasing pent-up psychic pressure and tension which otherwise would have exploded in some unthinkable act of self-harm.

For instance, with the moral support of my therapists I have learned to sublimate certain problematical and dangerous sexual fixations into a religious practice, e.g. worshipping the Goddess and practicing earth magic. In 1987, at the age of 24, I experienced a sudden, spontaneous, and involuntary vision of the Goddess, who appeared to me as a beautiful, wise, and omnipotent Witch, right in the middle of my bedroom, where I lay in darkness with the lights off. In Tantric Buddhism this is known as the “vision of Vajrayogini,” a rare and highly prized experience. A Jungian psychotherapist might explain it as an exteriorization of the unconscious Anima; for a Catholic, this might be a mystical vision of Saint Mary Magdalene. In any event, it was a major turning point in my life, really the most important one. I knew from that day forward that I must dedicate my life to worshipping and serving Her.

To me the Goddess represents both the deepest unconscious levels of the psyche and the vast expanse of the Universe; moreover, the two worlds, inner and outer, are mirror images. So to worship the Goddess I meditate in profound silence for one hour daily, as I have for 22 years, on the mystery of my inner being (Buddhist dharma helps with this); then, several times a week, weather permitting, I gaze into space and praise the Goddess in spontaneous, heartfelt prayers, in her incarnation as the constellations of the Milky Way Galaxy and every other galaxy in the Cosmos. Often I praise her as Diana, (the full moon) and as the planet Venus, the Morning and Evening Star. She is the intelligence underlying all life and space. The Earth is her incarnation as our Mother, the source of all life, so I honor her by keeping a small herb garden during the spring and summer months and by staying current on the ecological and environmental emergencies we face, such as deforestation, species extinction and global warming. The climate change conference recently concluded in Durban, South Africa was a time of special urgency.

All this has kept me grounded in an actually existing reality.

I often marvel at the endurance and resiliency of my therapists because I know it’s not easy to sit there and absorb this stuff. They offer me feedback and insights, reality checks, faith and encouragement, empathy and compassion. The way I often put it is this: A psychotherapist is a unique person in your life, because she isn’t a friend who you’d invite for dinner and a date, but she’s more than a casual acquaintance who’d be put off by taboo or eccentric disclosures. I can share my most naked emotional conflicts, fears and desires with my psychotherapist and know that she’ll still be there with a smile and a kind word the next time. That gives me the safe and secure feeling I need to carry on.

Now, psychotherapists have to pay bills just like everyone else, so they need to draw a salary. That’s why the neighborhood clinic where services can be paid for with Medicaid is so critical to the welfare of society and its less than affluent members. The clinic I attend is run by Catholic Charities. The care they offer is first rate, you don’t have to be a Catholic to belong, and they don’t proselytize. The staff are competent and courteous, the premises are clean and well maintained, and it’s a very pleasant experience to go there.

I’ve been to some other clinics that were run-down dumps, and the effect that that kind of environment creates on me is the depressing feeling that nobody cares how I feel here, nobody respects me. I’ve never been able to feel mentally well in places like those. So the environment where I’ve been receiving psychotherapy is also crucially important. There has to be a level of quality and decency to the place, or I’ll simply be too discouraged to continue attending therapy. Only Medicaid makes this kind of operation financially viable, so it’s imperative that our elected officials not decimate Medicaid spending in their current deficit reduction mania.

Finally, with antipsychotic medication, taken daily and for life, I’m not twisting in some bottomless pit of devils and chimeras, shouting obscenities at me, making dire threats and issuing prophecies terrifying enough to chase me wildly through the streets. But I’ve found that not every medication works for me. I’m fortunate in that I have an experienced and concerned psychiatrist at Catholic Charities who solicits my input and feedback regarding the medication and the effects it’s having on my mental and emotional equilibrium. If adjustments are needed, we make them. If the medication just doesn’t work for me, she prescribes something different. The important thing is that my doctor listens to me and partners with me in my treatment. My Medicaid insurance pays for the medication that helps keep me in reality. I could never afford to pay for it myself; another argument for buttressing Medicaid.

Mental illness is a cross. Mine doesn’t finally end in some cure:  It has to be managed for the rest of my life. With the help of a good psychotherapist at a neighborhood clinic that accepts Medicaid and provides psychiatric treatment so that I’m able to combine therapy with medicine, and express my religious longings without being made to feel like a heretic, I can wake up in the morning without the dread of being swallowed up in a wolvish maw of madness by noon.

A Prison of One: Another Look

By Larry Drain

A woman came recently to one of our support groups for the first time. She had never been to one before. More than anything she talked about isolation. In the midst of family and "friends" she had never—not once—opened up and talked about the issues she was struggling with. She talked about the fight to get out of bed. She talked about the pain of being alone in a crowd. She talked about the pool at her apartments and how she watched people go and wished she could go to. And she talked about how often she wanted to die.

She was alive because she thought her death might inconvenience other people. She talked about trying to find a month when no one had a birthday or there wasn’t a holiday or a special event. She didn’t want to make something good into something bad. She was thoughtful to the max, but didn’t think she was worth a thought.

She talked. Then she cried. Then she talked some more. I think she really surprised herself with how much she had to talk about. It is hard to have faith in yourself if no one around you has. It is hard to treat yourself as important if no one else does. Isolation isn’t always about how many people are around. Sometimes it’s about how you are around people.

We told her how she deserved more and how she was worth more and how much courage she had. She is not used to good news and although I think she liked what she heard I think it made her uncomfortable. She is sadly comfortable in the theater and feels awkward at the thought of being part of the movie.

I hope she comes back. I think she might. She at least said so. Mental illness for her has meant being alone. Always. She was married for a long time, but even then was alone. She talked about her husband for a while. "You know," she said, "We were together for years. I never even knew how much he made...."

Chronic isolation is a form of death before dying. For too many with mental health issues it is a death too easily found. Remember God gave us hands for reaching out to others. Say "hello" to someone today.

Larry Drain runs a blog for mental health recovery that can be found here: http://hopeworkscommunity.wordpress.com/

The World of Work

By Steve Duke, LCSW, CPRP, Director of Employment Services, Baltic Street AEH

Step 3: Goal Setting 

"'Tis the set of the sail that decides the goal, and not the storm of life." -Ella Wheeler Wilcox

So let me ask you a question, What is it that you would like to do for a living?

Ever since we were first asked “What do you want to be when you grow up?” We have all pondered this question at least a million times at different points of our lives. Being a grown-up does not mean that you can no longer have dreams, or “occupational day-dreams” as they have been called in the “biz”. It is never too late to find ways to earn money and be personally satisfied at the same time. So take some time and ask yourself what your dream job is. (Remember, keep it clean, legal and realistic!)  Start there and you are ready to begin the Goal Setting Process.

Setting a first rate and high quality goal takes a lot of time, patience, and thought. It can seem overwhelming and confusing at times and you may find yourself procrastinating about making important decisions because of uncertainty, conflicting values, negative past experiences, and feeling that you lack the skills, supports and resources you need to be confident.  

There will always be times when we need to make important decisions and making these important life decisions will always begin with a goal. The decisions you make will determine the course or direction your life will take. Sometimes, circumstances that are not in our control force us to make decisions that we would not necessarily make if we had a choice. For the most part, however, we are usually afforded the opportunity to make decisions that are born out of a desire to move forward, improve ourselves, and achieve greater satisfaction in our lives.

Setting a realistic employment goal is the most crucial phase of employment planning. A well thought-out goal will steer you true and set you in the right direction. It will help you stay focused on what you want despite the many turns and challenges that may arise along the way.

If you are currently seeking employment, regardless of whether you have a clear goal or not, it is at this point that I highly recommend you contact an employment program to assist you with professional support and guidance. That support will help you stay focused and structured, and assess and organize your thoughts and feelings in a way that will enable you make well informed decisions and begin working on your goals with planned strategies for taking action.

Although I do understand how dreams can sometimes be seen as goals, without a realistic action plan and a lot of hard work, they will simply amount to wishful thinking. "A goal without a plan is just a wish."—Larry Elder.

Remember that when you set a goal, set it based on your preferences and not on your skills. Once you decide what it is you want to accomplish, you can begin planning and getting the essential skills needed to achieve your goal as you go along. Getting to the end zone and attaining your goal will depend a lot more on planning and developing than it will on luck. People who set goals that are specific and realistic are usually the ones who succeed.

A professional employment specialist can guide you through a systematized process of making a goal decision and once you learn this major life-skill, the benefit will be that you can use this method whenever you have to make other important decisions in your life. This process involves exploration into the following areas:

Clarifying Values: Understanding and prioritizing what is most important to you;

Analyzing Past Experiences: Understanding the positive and negative aspects of your past work experiences;

Developing Personal Preferences: Identifying and prioritizing the main factors that will contribute to success and satisfaction;

Exploring Alternative Environments: Finding the best match for you; and

Formulating Your Goal Statement: Knowing what you intend to do, where you intend to do it and, when you intend to do it.

Let me end with some choice words from a Chinese fortune cookie: “If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.”  So follow your dreams and start setting goals that can make them come true.

Note: If you need referral assistance or if you have questions or comments about employment that you would like to discuss, contact us at Network Plus (718) 377-8568 and we will assess your situation and help you get the assistance you need.

Is Your House A Castle or a Toxic Dump?

By Chato B. Stewart

Discovering the Bible turned my life around

I grew up in a Toxic Dump! No, really, in the 50s, before the housing development, the area was a swamp and an illegal toxic dump site.

I grew up in an emotionally toxic environment as well. My father’s uncontrolled rage and anger issues stemmed from undiagnosed bipolar disorder (dad was diagnosed shortly before his death). Along with this undiagnosed mental disorder, he was also heavily medicated on painkillers from a work accident that happened when I was four years-old. Needless to say, this added more pain to an already volatile and toxic home environment.

My father had twisted ways of expressing love. During my childhood he called me stupid, retarded, worthless, and a host of other insults. Best of all he showed me that a belt wasn’t just for holding up your pants…it's a handy disciplinary tool.

I learned hate, rage, and prejudice as part of my toxic education. Escaping, fleeing that toxicity seemed insurmountable! Entering my teens, I already had a nickname in the projects: “Psycho Stew” with a troublemaker reputation during my grooming to be a thug. My lifesaver was Bible study.

When I say the Bible saved my life, I really mean it. Studying with a local religious group for the first time had a purpose and it made sense. Learning that stealing, lying, and hurting others physically and emotionally was wrong seemed foreign to me. Growing up I was taught “deny, deny, deny and lie, lie, lie!” That was part of my toxic education. Learning negative coping skills such as self-injury and violence was second nature. Even though I was studying the Bible, I wasn’t totally getting the concept that stealing was wrong. I think this is where the mental illness took over.

Believing that I was some type of modern-day Robin Hood, I stole and gave everything away. It was my delusion that I was doing something good by stealing. How wrong I was! Through what I learned from my Bible study, I gradually began detoxifying my life. I stopped getting high and stealing, found control for my violent temper and adjusted my attitude towards others, slowly detoxifying myself physically and mentally from my toxic childhood. I did a complete 180 from my old, troubled way of life. And at the age of 18, I dedicated myself to my new biblical training.

Leaving that toxic environment behind, I was on a new road that was cleansing my old ways. You see, my faith was a shield from the world’s toxicity and hate. My faith was the detoxification from my former hate and rage. I was able to keep my self-loathing and self-hatred controlled to some degree. My hypo-manic mood swings and even depression was appeased by my faith. I rely on it. My faith got me through my deteriorating sanity.

Moving forward to my thirties, I had what some would call a major psychotic episode. I totally lost touch with reality and my faith; my shield, was lost and many toxic emotions erupted like a volcano! I sank into a very deep depression with moments of psychosis and attempted suicide multiple times. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to detoxify and recover, making small steps forward on my continuing journey. I kept trying to “recapture” my faith, holding on to it with just my fingertips, often wanting to let go and end the suffering.

What pains me most is what my mental illness has done to my family. I re-created a toxic environment for my own children because, for part of their life, my symptoms went uncontrolled and un-medicated. I’m now working hard to better myself and create a loving, non-toxic home environment for my children.

“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” What worked when I was 14 was building an appreciation for the Bible and the practical, life-saving principles found therein. So, ever since July 2011, I implemented a family Bible-study once a week. I can’t tell you how much this has helped our family detoxify and build appreciation for God and spirituality!

Mentally, I continue to detoxify, recover and fortify my faith. Recently, a wave of depression engulfed me with suicidal ideation, negative thinking and self-loathing. After sharing my emotional turmoil with a trusted friend, he shared with me an encouraging biblical verse. I read it and cried tears of joy.

‘Do not be afraid, for I am with you. Do not gaze about, for I am your God. I will fortify you. I will really help you. I will really keep fast hold of you with my right hand of righteousness.’ (Isaiah 41:10)

Book Review: “The Fool” by Jeffrey V. Perry

By Kurt Sass

I must admit, I was a little bewildered for quite some time while reading “The Fool,” Jeffrey V. Perry’s book of, by the book cover’s own description, “Poetry and Other Works.”

The reason for my initial confusion was because the book was given to me to read to review for New York City Voices, and for the first 95 percent of it I saw practically no writings concerning mental health. Most of the poetry and essays had to do with the topics of God and love. While these writings were very well written, with a style showing engagement, fluidity, strength and insight, I still could not fathom how a review of this book would benefit New York City Voices readers.

That is until I read what Mr. Perry called his “Bonus Material.” Buried within the final 15 pages of the book are two essays about mental health peers, one in particular on the topic of the  peer as provider.

After reading the essay, I would have no qualms in stating that I feel that Mr. Perry is so well versed on the subject the he could pen an entire book on the subject alone. As a mental health peer provider, many of his points truly hit home and got me thinking about items I haven’t (but should) be thinking more about. He writes about the obligation and responsibilities we have as peer providers, and that we should not simply be satisfied in “getting in the door.” He adds that we should also critique ourselves and be very careful not to fall into the same traps as many non-peer providers, such as acting with our peers only in a “clinical” mode, or forgetting where we came from.

Mr. Perry went on to give an example of what helps him as a peer provider. He wrote that when he sees someone going through a trauma he goes back to his days on the Bowery and remembers that what worked best in his own recovery were those who did their job well and with an open mind.

To sum up, if you like good poetry about God and love, this book is for you. If you want to read a great essay about mental health peers, this book is for you.

How Alimony Payments Effect SSD and SSI

By Maro Constantinou, Staff Attorney, MFY Legal Services

Question: Do I have to report an award of alimony to the Social Security Administration if I receive Social Security Disability (SSD) or Supplemental Security Income (SSI) benefits?

Answer: The reporting requirements are different for SSD and SSI benefits. If you only receive SSD benefits then there is no obligation to report to Social Security because SSD is not a needs-based program.

If you receive SSI, you must report the amount of alimony you are receiving to Social Security. Since SSI is a needs-based benefit, Social Security looks at all sources of income to determine eligibility for SSI benefits. Alimony is considered income and will impact a beneficiary’s SSI payment.

You can notify Social Security orally or in writing, but it is better to do so in writing. You should send a letter by certified mail, return receipt requested, to your local Social Security Office. Keep a record of your letter and save proof of mailing. Include your name, social security number, the amount you received and the date you received it. You must report the receipt of alimony within 10 days after the close of the month in which you receive the monies. For example, if you receive an alimony payment on July 3^rd, you must report it to the Social Security by August 10^th. Social Security can impose a penalty and deduct money from your benefits if you do not make a timely report.

Question: How will receipt of alimony affect my SSI benefits?

Answer: Social Security considers alimony to be unearned income and will reduce your SSI benefits. The amount of the reduction depends on the amount of alimony you receive. Generally the first $20 is disregarded and then Social Security will deduct the amount of alimony from your SSI benefit dollar for dollar. For example, if you receive $60 per month in alimony, the first $20 may be disregarded (if no other income is disregarded) and the remaining $40 in alimony will reduce your SSI total amount by $40. If the alimony amount is high enough, you may cease to be eligible for SSI benefits all together.

I Have Been Through the Valley of Death

By Akash Chat

Coming out alive and now benefiting others

My older brother believed in me, and my mother smothered me (usually in a loving way), but others could see that I was a little “off.”  My father was a rage-aholic. I later realized that he loved me in his way and maybe his anger towards me was due to fear that I would suffer because of my awkwardness. I don’t know if it was his violent outbursts or just a fear of living that made me sink further into my inner fantasy world. My mom says I would tolerate other kids for a while and then go hide. In front of any authority figure, I would freeze in fright. I couldn’t get a haircut because I would tremble at the sight of the barber, afraid to ask for his services.

Because I was so helpless, my mom and brother would guess my needs and take care of me. I grew accustomed to this treatment and had even less of a desire to create normal relationships or assert myself. I was afraid to sleep because of the terrifying dreams that haunted me nightly.

My mom went to college, my brother got involved with girls, and I hit puberty. Confused by my newly discovered sexual impulses and the abandonment by my caretakers, my fantasies took a darker turn, and I turned to voyeurism. I also stared off into space for hours while my peers played, studied, and dated.

I won a full scholarship to college, where I blossomed into an alcoholic. I had run-ins with the police, hospitals, and mental institutions, either after cutting my wrists, breaking and entering, or committing arson.

Hard drugs took me to sordid places, and I caught many diseases from prostitutes, but when I was selling drugs, I felt like a man for the first time. People were coming to me and I had what they wanted. My brother died with a needle in his hand, bought by the money I had made selling drugs to others. I, myself, was beaten unconscious and left for dead on the street. Despite losing my sense of smell permanently, I recovered most of my brain function, and then I picked up a book on meditation.

I started attending spiritual and addiction recovery groups, where I was driven by terror, contempt, and infatuation towards the senior members. As a kid, I had a different personality for each family member. I still reverted to a child-like state in front of women and I froze up in front of male authority figures. I had tried therapy but it brought out a rage that I couldn’t contain. Some members of my religious community liked my dedication and wanted me to become a formally ordained member, while others were afraid I’d kill myself at any moment. Amid the chaos around my ordination, relationships shattered and before attacking myself or anyone else, I went to a trauma program at a mental institution.

I wrote down everything I could remember. Until then, I was juggling my memories and couldn’t see the whole picture at once. The doctors asked me if I ever played with other kids growing up, or if I ever dated anyone, and I cried when I realized I was different. I later learned that many people are different in some way, and each person has a unique beauty too.

I started seeing that in addition to all my pain, I was also loved more than I had realized. I learned to appreciate moments of connection with others, and to tolerate the persistent discomfort. People asked me to mentor them, which made me feel special, but after a while I realized that I was putting myself above others instead of making a real connection. I still mentor others, including prisoners, but I try not to take myself too seriously. When I do, someone usually knocks me down and reminds me to chuckle at myself.

I have some happiness today because I’m determined to tolerate the pain of being with others, for the modest benefits that come from it. It’s hard for me to get any help when I’m hurting, because I don’t relate well to people, even when we share the same experiences. But I pick up the phone, pray, attend groups, write, meditate, read, walk, and listen to music, and somehow the support seeps in, even though none of the above are as satisfying as I would like.

I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, schizoid personality disorder, major depression, generalized anxiety disorder, sexual disorder N.O.S., impulse control disorder, and chemical dependency; with “rule out” diagnoses for mood disorder N.O.S., dependent personality disorder, and antisocial personality disorder. I get overwhelmed easily and my mind turns to dark places. I’m also determined, caring, resourceful, and funny. I work as a research scientist. I write and perform skits and songs for kids and adults, which are amusing and educational. I make a difference.