My Experience Has a Name
By Donald Wayne
Doctor “P” Came Along to Name It
Help came in fits and starts over a lifetime of mental illness, which began in the 1960s while in my middle grades. It has been a journey marked by compassionate people and stunning luck. Understanding my illness came over decades of having to piece it all together. Looking back over the years, I can see the evolution of my life narrative.
I'm not sure what my age or grade in school was. The time period is hazy for me to determine. Perhaps it was sixth or seventh grade. I was having a terrible time at school and was miserable. When lunchtime came around I would be my own company, separating myself from the other children. I was anxious. People called it my “nerve problem.” I felt as if I were all alone. Indeed, nobody seemed to comprehend my situation. No one thought it was anything but nerves, at the very least an illness.
My mother was my first advocate. She came to wake me for school one morning and found me lying in bed, as stiff as a piece of lumber, with the sheet stretched taut between my teeth. Many years later, my mother told me she could slip her hand easily beneath the arch of my back.
Something was clearly wrong. She phoned my father at work. “There’s nothing wrong with Wayne,” Dad said. That wasn’t acceptable. Mother called our physician, Doctor “E,” who recommended a psychiatrist in a city fifty miles away.
My sessions went on for years with diminishing returns for the amount of time spent with Doctor “M,” my psychiatrist. Medicine was prescribed, but with no understanding of my condition. He had told my parents that I would have a family, but would never make it through college.
I started college in the late 1970s and did well. Away from the stress of parents and bullies in school, I thrived. I transferred to a university in the piney woods of Texas, a place which I loved, and still do. I had been taking courses in photography, which I later majored in. I remember that day well.
It was a slightly chilly but clear cobalt blue day as I arrived on campus. I was beside the white stone four-story library when a “thought” came, telling me terrible things about myself again and again. I could not make it stop. I lived with these voices and the increasing paranoia until one lucky break.
I was to go see Doctor “F” to have my medicine refilled, but for some reason he couldn’t make it to my appointment. That’s when Doctor “P” entered my life. Talking to this kind physician with his big eyes and tall frame who asked me leading questions, I had the courage to ask about the “thoughts” that were torturing me, which I did not understand.
Consequently, I learned Doctor “P” had once been an army doctor with special training in the area of schizophrenia, which he thought I had. I was not expecting help, and certainly not this. But I was relieved, if somewhat bewildered, at discovering my situation had a name.
Doctor “P” helped me deal with my schizophrenia for a decade. Tragically, for many people, this man who meant so much to so many of us, died in an accident. I then became the patient of physician Doctor “R” for the next decade. In him, I would find a man, distinguished, knowledgeable and a friend.
Doctor “R” would spend plenty of time with me, allowing room to ask questions unhurriedly, a contrast from the several minutes people in my situation typically get. He once offered to take me to a good Dallas restaurant and buy me a steak if I lost weight. I didn’t, though I wished that I had, if just to spend time with Doctor “R,” for he would leave my town after a decade or so. I think he was in the military guard.
Receiving assistance from the Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation was the last piece of the puzzle. I had lost my job and needed help. Since then, I have had several therapists, all very good. After six years, I am getting to the bottom of my severe anxiety.
Along with the concern and helpfulness of these medical professionals, it seems that there has been an element of luck with me throughout the years. My doctors and family all stepped in when they could help, combined with my own initiative, as well. I thank God for them all.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Healing Voices Film Event
Healing Voices Film Event
By Lisa Roma, Reginald Coleman and Dan Frey
Informed Decisions to be Made by The Individual
Note: The film here reviewed deals in part with the subject of coming off of psychiatric medications. This is a controversial subject as, on the one hand, psych meds can do harm to the body. On the other, being without them can lead to poor judgment, psychological pain and dangerous situations. The staff and volunteers at City Voices strongly encourage you to do the research, talk to your doctors, your family and friends before deciding about whether to stay on meds. Do not attempt to get off meds on your own. This action requires a strong support system to buffer you in case of crisis. You have the human right to choose what goes into your body. However, we do not live in a supportive and understanding society. In the U.S. people who have shown signs of mental illness have been marginalized, feared, incarcerated and basic human rights have been taken away. If you do decide to ween off of medications, do it slowly under careful supervision even if it takes years. Maybe you will find that remaining on the medication is best, perhaps at a more comfortable dose.
On April 29, 2016 we viewed Healing Voices, a documentary about people who experience extreme states of consciousness usually labeled as “psychosis” or “mental illness” by the medical establishment and the effort to preserve their human rights and dignity.
For many people hearing voices is a part of their life experience. The film offers a fresh perspective, exploring how to accept and love people who experience extreme states, rather than stigmatize, label, and medicate them, which can do more harm than good. Hearing voices is a normal human experience, a “dangerous gift” that many of history's movers and shakers experienced. It is how people respond to the voices that brings them into contact with services and not the fact that they hear voices.
“Mad in America” author Robert Whitaker chronicled society's shifts in perspective of people diagnosed as mentally ill. Each shift led to a different type of treatment. In the colonial days of the late 1700s, the Age of Reason, those who lost their reason were seen as less than human, abused, and treated like animals. Then came reforms in treatment led by the Quakers who viewed the mentally ill as brethren and were compassionate with their care-giving. In the late 1800s there were eugenic attitudes, forced sterilization, marriage prevention and long-term hospital stays. In 1950, Thorazine was introduced, which was essentially a straight-jacket in pill form. Today, pharmaceutical drugs dominate treatment. Mr. Whitaker said, “What we are really treating is our own desire to be safe. Madness is a mystery. If you conceive of people as brethren, that's a great starting point.”
The film follows three subjects over a five-year period—Oryx, Jen and Dan—each of whom are learning to live with extreme states of consciousness, hearing voices, etc. without psychiatric medications. They all belong to loving families and have steadfast friends in their support systems. Oryx and Jen are both married with children and have been there for one another through times of crisis. Dan's mother and friends have been his constant support. Dan said he feels more alive and vibrant without psych meds.
In 2013, the director of the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), Thomas Insel, M.D., concluded that people diagnosed with schizophrenia and other psychoses are a diverse group who need diverse approaches. Dr. Insel acknowledged in his Director's Blog, “For some people, remaining on medication long-term might impede a full return to wellness.”
Healing Voices declares that psychiatric survivors have the right to choose what is best for themselves in their own recovery, encourages people to share their stories and support one another. Judi Chamberlin, mental health advocate and activist, says, “People have a story to tell. Support each other by listening to these stories. Trauma exists. People should have a choice in their recovery.”
There are significant cultural factors that influence one's decision to stop taking psychiatric medications (and society's response to this decision) that are not adequately explored in the film. However, projects like Healing Voices are needed to push boundaries and create opportunities for ongoing dialogues.
DVDs or streaming video can be purchased at healingvoicesmovie.com/store. Other online resources include www.facebook.com/alternativesconference, www.mindfreedom.org, and to find a hearing voices group: www.hearingvoicesusa.org/find-a-group.
By Lisa Roma, Reginald Coleman and Dan Frey
Informed Decisions to be Made by The Individual
Note: The film here reviewed deals in part with the subject of coming off of psychiatric medications. This is a controversial subject as, on the one hand, psych meds can do harm to the body. On the other, being without them can lead to poor judgment, psychological pain and dangerous situations. The staff and volunteers at City Voices strongly encourage you to do the research, talk to your doctors, your family and friends before deciding about whether to stay on meds. Do not attempt to get off meds on your own. This action requires a strong support system to buffer you in case of crisis. You have the human right to choose what goes into your body. However, we do not live in a supportive and understanding society. In the U.S. people who have shown signs of mental illness have been marginalized, feared, incarcerated and basic human rights have been taken away. If you do decide to ween off of medications, do it slowly under careful supervision even if it takes years. Maybe you will find that remaining on the medication is best, perhaps at a more comfortable dose.
On April 29, 2016 we viewed Healing Voices, a documentary about people who experience extreme states of consciousness usually labeled as “psychosis” or “mental illness” by the medical establishment and the effort to preserve their human rights and dignity.
For many people hearing voices is a part of their life experience. The film offers a fresh perspective, exploring how to accept and love people who experience extreme states, rather than stigmatize, label, and medicate them, which can do more harm than good. Hearing voices is a normal human experience, a “dangerous gift” that many of history's movers and shakers experienced. It is how people respond to the voices that brings them into contact with services and not the fact that they hear voices.
“Mad in America” author Robert Whitaker chronicled society's shifts in perspective of people diagnosed as mentally ill. Each shift led to a different type of treatment. In the colonial days of the late 1700s, the Age of Reason, those who lost their reason were seen as less than human, abused, and treated like animals. Then came reforms in treatment led by the Quakers who viewed the mentally ill as brethren and were compassionate with their care-giving. In the late 1800s there were eugenic attitudes, forced sterilization, marriage prevention and long-term hospital stays. In 1950, Thorazine was introduced, which was essentially a straight-jacket in pill form. Today, pharmaceutical drugs dominate treatment. Mr. Whitaker said, “What we are really treating is our own desire to be safe. Madness is a mystery. If you conceive of people as brethren, that's a great starting point.”
The film follows three subjects over a five-year period—Oryx, Jen and Dan—each of whom are learning to live with extreme states of consciousness, hearing voices, etc. without psychiatric medications. They all belong to loving families and have steadfast friends in their support systems. Oryx and Jen are both married with children and have been there for one another through times of crisis. Dan's mother and friends have been his constant support. Dan said he feels more alive and vibrant without psych meds.
In 2013, the director of the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), Thomas Insel, M.D., concluded that people diagnosed with schizophrenia and other psychoses are a diverse group who need diverse approaches. Dr. Insel acknowledged in his Director's Blog, “For some people, remaining on medication long-term might impede a full return to wellness.”
Healing Voices declares that psychiatric survivors have the right to choose what is best for themselves in their own recovery, encourages people to share their stories and support one another. Judi Chamberlin, mental health advocate and activist, says, “People have a story to tell. Support each other by listening to these stories. Trauma exists. People should have a choice in their recovery.”
There are significant cultural factors that influence one's decision to stop taking psychiatric medications (and society's response to this decision) that are not adequately explored in the film. However, projects like Healing Voices are needed to push boundaries and create opportunities for ongoing dialogues.
DVDs or streaming video can be purchased at healingvoicesmovie.com/store. Other online resources include www.facebook.com/alternativesconference, www.mindfreedom.org, and to find a hearing voices group: www.hearingvoicesusa.org/find-a-group.
Fond Memories of Marvin Spieler
Fond Memories of Marvin Spieler
Photos of Marvin Spieler courtesy of David Gonzalez
“I had heard of Marvin’s work with the Speakers Bureau long before he and I ever met face to face. When we did meet, I was taken with his gentle nature and genuine interest in helping others, including me. He was a natural listener and often gave me advice on both personal matters and systems advocacy. He was also a fierce advocate. Although we did not speak often, whenever we did, it felt like I was reuniting with an old friend. Thank you Marvin for all you did to help improve the quality of life for so many in the recovery community. You will be truly missed and always remembered.”--Carlton Whitmore, Director, Office of Consumer Affairs, NYC Dept. of Health and Mental Hygiene
“I first met Marvin at a support group in the year 2000. I was in the beginning stages of recovery from a deep depression in which I literally lay in bed for almost a year with next to no human contact. Marvin suggested I try presenting my story at his Consumers Speakers bureau. Through his guidance and positive support I eventually tried (and loved) public speaking. But I am just one of many people that Marvin has mentored, guided and supported. Very few people on this planet can honestly say they have changed so many lives for the better than Marvin.”--Kurt Sass, Administrative Coordinator, Community Access, Inc.
“Marvin, was an unforgettable character. He was always advocating for a cause, usually mental health related. I knew marvin for about 20 years and rarely heard him complain even when his health was not the best. He devoted over 20 years to serving on the BSAEH, Inc. Board of Directors and along with Dan Frey was one of the driving forces behind City Voices. I always admired Marvin for his tenacity and his moral compass. He will be missed by many. May his memory be a Blessing.”--Isaac Brown, President/CEO, Baltic Street AEH, Inc.
“Marvin, you saved City Voices newspaper from the brink of disaster. For that, in addition to your friendship, I am grateful. It was cute seeing you and Sharon both ordering shrimp with lobster sauce. Who says all Jews have to keep kosher? God, probably. But you were an atheist, so who cares?! Rest in peace, Uncle Marvey.”--Dan Frey, Editor in Chief, City Voices: A Peer Journal for Mental Health
“Marvin was a staunch advocate who rarely minced words, but also one of the kindest souls I’ve ever known. It was my pleasure to attend Marvin’s wedding reception a few years ago. We spoke briefly during the reception and he shared how happy he was and assured me that it was never too late to find happiness and meaning in life. I was struggling with my own recovery at the time and needed to hear this! Marvin had a way of reminding you of what really mattered. I will miss his candor and kindness.”--Teena Brooks, LMSW, Assistant Director, Office of Consumer Affairs, NYC Dept. Health and Mental Hygiene
“Marvin was one of the very first employees here at MHA-NYC when I started almost 30 years ago. In his role as a consumer leader and spokesman his impact on mental wellness and recovery was immense. To me personally, Marvin was a cherished personal friend who helped my through my my daughter’s illness and gave me hope in my darkest days.”--Giselle Stolper, Executive Director, Mental Health Association of New York City
“I was saddened by Marvin's sudden passing, and will always remember his kindness and generosity and enthusiasm for the community he represented with such dignity. I remember how happy he was when he told me he had gotten married. He was like a young man again. He encouraged me always. He always tried to help and offer useful information, and he was a good person. He will be missed. I hope he is enjoying the spirit world. Peace now, angel Marvin. No pain and no meds needed in heaven.”--Lisa Roma Wacholder, Associate Editor, City Voices: A Peer Journal for Mental Health
“Marvin was a great friend. He always worried about me being sick, and, here he was, sicker than I was. I thought that was very nice of him. Sometimes he would take me for ice cream or lunch. He wanted me to do the Speaker's Bureau, but I never got around to it. Now I wish I had because he could have helped me out of my depression. He will always be missed. At least he is not suffering anymore. May he rest in peace and be in a better place.”--Sandy Brower, Peer Advocate
“Marvin was warm; intelligent; and wise. He was instrumental to me, both at my last position as a peer specialist at a home for adults, when he supplied me with speakers recruited from his Speakers Bureau, to present at our popular Peer Led Socials; and when he arranged for me to go out and speak as well. I knew him for over five years. I was so happy when he confided in me about his marriage to Sharon. I wished him a hearty 'mazel tov' and I could see how great his relationship to her was and how much it helped him overcome his overwhelming medical struggles. Now the pain is completely gone, and I’m sure he is happy, looking down on us with his trademark compassion. As the poet Shelley put it, 'Hail to thee, blithe spirit!'”--Joel Simonds, Peer Specialist, South Beach Psychiatric Center
“Marvin spoke with a quiet presence that was as masterful as it was plain humble. Sometimes, there are those who just do what is needed, going about the business at hand.”--Jeffrey V. Perry, CPRP, Program Manager, Baltic Street AEH, Inc.
“I met Marvin Spieler many times at Baltic Street. I discussed many issues with him when he made the time to speak to me. I found I could relate to him regarding recovery, empowerment, and the basic fundamentals of wellness. We spoke mainly about the current events that were happening then. I wished him all the best when he married. We had moments of laughter and were saddened by events that were happening in the news. I deeply express my sympathy to his wife and family. I am so saddened, we will miss him dearly.”--Anthony Sgarlato, Program Manager, Baltic Street AEH, Inc
As I See it: My Friends are Dying Like Flies
As I See it: My Friends are Dying Like
Flies
By Marvin Spieler, Editor at Large
Columnist
Try to Stay Healthy
Note: This article is reprinted from
the fall 2003 edition of City Voices. Marvin's sentiments here
reflect how a lot of us feel about losing the friends we have made in
the mental health community; people who have touched our lives as the
late Marvin Spieler had.
What does the title mean? It means very
dear loved ones, friends, mental health advocates and acquaintances
are dying like flies. Obviously they weren't flies. Not by any means
would I ever think that. However, they are dying so regularly. So
many are now gone I can't imagine who will be next. They are dying so
often, in a sense they are dying like flies. My memory of who died
and when is beginning to be a continuous blur of images. Dead
acquaintances bother me a great deal. I knew them or admired their
work as advocates and I miss them dearly.
I'm mourning the memory of my wife who
passed more than three years ago. I knew Reta since 1975 and was
married for a dozen years. All I can feel now is pain. Six months
later, Ken Steele, a close friend, contemporary and mental health
advocate of incredible achievement thanks to the right medication
after thirty years lost in hospitals, also died. My mother left earth
that year too. She is still in every one of my bones. The avalanche
of deaths started with the great advocate Howie the Harp. The Peer
Advocacy Center in Harlem, busy training consumers to become peer
advocates, now functions in his memory and in his name.
Quincy Boykin, New York City's
Department of Heath and Mental Hygiene's citywide consumer advocate's
death scared the hell out of me. He had a stroke, which he survived.
Months to a year later he died. Whether it was another stroke or a
rumor he had a heart attack doesn't matter. He meant a lot to me,
fought for us all, gained the respect of providers for all of us and
empowered many consumers.
Dr. Aquila of St. Lukes/Roosevelt
Hospital stated at a June 27, 2003 conference sponsored by the
Manhattan Mental Health Council that consumers die ten years younger
than the greater population. It was pointed out that suicide factored
in.
The body doesn't age faster because of
mental illness does it? If not, why the disparity? Two ideas
immediately occur: we generally are overweight due to the psychiatric
medicines and those who smoke or have smoked for many years are at
risk.
I would ask, are we getting the quality
healthcare we need?
Our diets are generally poor due to
lack of knowledge and low incomes as well. A poor man's diet makes
you overweight.
All this comes to mind yesterday with a
phone call. I learned a friend had a clot in his lung. He was lucky
to get to a hospital in time.
What can you do? 1) Stop smoking; 2)
exercise on a regular basis; 3) improve your diet; and 4) consult
your psychiatrist about your medicines.
I personally have stopped smoking
recently. It's a big start. Believe me, it isn't easy. I crave a
cigarette whenever I see a person with one, but resist smoking. It's
a step in the right direction.
It's a start for me. However, how far
has my body deteriorated? How much at risk am I? The younger you are
the greater chance for changing old habits. Time is on your side. Use
it wisely.
Memories of My Late Husband Marvin Spieler
Memories of My Late Husband Marvin Spieler
By Sharon Spieler
Meeting My Soulmate at the Age of 51
What can I say about the most wonderful man I ever met? I called him “my sweet man” and he called me his “wifey.” He had a heart of gold. Marvin was kind, gentle, caring and intelligent.
Marvin came into my life as a surprise. I did not make dating easy for him because I was not looking for a relationship. I had three very disappointing relationships with men in my youth and had given up on any possibility of finding Mr. Right. I did not pick up on any of Marvin's signals, being clueless that he was interested in me.
We met at an empowerment meeting run by my psychiatrist in January 2003 where we were given the chance to talk. I found out that we had a lot in common. He had an emotionally disabled mother and I had a physically disabled mother. He grew up in the projects as did I. We both liked to write and we both liked history and politics.
Marvin said he was very impressed with me because he thought that I was intelligent and expressed myself well. He came to the February and March meetings just to see me again, but I did not show. I came back to a meeting in April and afterward, Marvin asked if I would drive him to the train station. I agreed. The business card he gave me said, “Marvin Spieler, Director of Consumer Speakers' Bureau, Mental Health Association of New York City.” He told me to call him any time. However, I am from the old school and will not make the first call to a man no matter how much I liked him.
In May we met again at the empowerment meeting. He was taking no chances this time and asked me for my telephone number. He called me that week and we arranged our first date at Battery Park. I had a great time.
At the age of 51, I finally met the man I was looking for my entire life, a man I admired, and who shared my interests. This man was clearly my soulmate as he was easy to talk to and we had a lot in common. We became inseparable for the next thirteen years until his passing on March 23, 2016.
I was aware of Marvin's existence even before I met him. It was the year 1999 or 2000 and I was in treatment for depression. I mentioned to my psychiatrist that I always wanted to write for a newspaper. She told me about City Voices, the newspaper written by and published for mental health consumers. My doctor happened to have copies of City Voices in her waiting room and I read Marvin's column “As I See It” and noted his title “Editor at Large.”
I was very proud of Marvin and impressed with him because of his accomplishments despite having a psychiatric disability to contend with. Marvin taught me so much. He was my own personal peer specialist. He helped me not only by being my boyfriend and later my husband, he introduced me to his friends in the mental health community and the recovery movement, which I never knew existed. I did not know that recovery from mental illness was even possible. He knew so many people, was on so many boards, and was constantly looking for ways to spread the word about recovery.
His favorite slogan was that a person needed, at the very least, “a home, a job and a friend” in order to lead a satisfying life. He certainly helped me to achieve these things. He turned my apartment into a home when he married me. I held three jobs with him: wife; administrative assistant as I typed his speeches, his column in City Voices and his monthly statistics for his Speakers' Bureau; and circulation manager in charge of the bulk subscriptions for City Voices. He served as City Voices' business manager in addition to being a columnist. Lastly, Marvin was my best friend, husband, and soulmate. I will keep him in my heart forever. May he rest in peace.
Note: You can read Marvin's many columns in City Voices here: http://www.nycvoices.org/marvin_spieler_column.php
By Sharon Spieler
Meeting My Soulmate at the Age of 51
What can I say about the most wonderful man I ever met? I called him “my sweet man” and he called me his “wifey.” He had a heart of gold. Marvin was kind, gentle, caring and intelligent.
Marvin came into my life as a surprise. I did not make dating easy for him because I was not looking for a relationship. I had three very disappointing relationships with men in my youth and had given up on any possibility of finding Mr. Right. I did not pick up on any of Marvin's signals, being clueless that he was interested in me.
We met at an empowerment meeting run by my psychiatrist in January 2003 where we were given the chance to talk. I found out that we had a lot in common. He had an emotionally disabled mother and I had a physically disabled mother. He grew up in the projects as did I. We both liked to write and we both liked history and politics.
Marvin said he was very impressed with me because he thought that I was intelligent and expressed myself well. He came to the February and March meetings just to see me again, but I did not show. I came back to a meeting in April and afterward, Marvin asked if I would drive him to the train station. I agreed. The business card he gave me said, “Marvin Spieler, Director of Consumer Speakers' Bureau, Mental Health Association of New York City.” He told me to call him any time. However, I am from the old school and will not make the first call to a man no matter how much I liked him.
In May we met again at the empowerment meeting. He was taking no chances this time and asked me for my telephone number. He called me that week and we arranged our first date at Battery Park. I had a great time.
At the age of 51, I finally met the man I was looking for my entire life, a man I admired, and who shared my interests. This man was clearly my soulmate as he was easy to talk to and we had a lot in common. We became inseparable for the next thirteen years until his passing on March 23, 2016.
I was aware of Marvin's existence even before I met him. It was the year 1999 or 2000 and I was in treatment for depression. I mentioned to my psychiatrist that I always wanted to write for a newspaper. She told me about City Voices, the newspaper written by and published for mental health consumers. My doctor happened to have copies of City Voices in her waiting room and I read Marvin's column “As I See It” and noted his title “Editor at Large.”
I was very proud of Marvin and impressed with him because of his accomplishments despite having a psychiatric disability to contend with. Marvin taught me so much. He was my own personal peer specialist. He helped me not only by being my boyfriend and later my husband, he introduced me to his friends in the mental health community and the recovery movement, which I never knew existed. I did not know that recovery from mental illness was even possible. He knew so many people, was on so many boards, and was constantly looking for ways to spread the word about recovery.
His favorite slogan was that a person needed, at the very least, “a home, a job and a friend” in order to lead a satisfying life. He certainly helped me to achieve these things. He turned my apartment into a home when he married me. I held three jobs with him: wife; administrative assistant as I typed his speeches, his column in City Voices and his monthly statistics for his Speakers' Bureau; and circulation manager in charge of the bulk subscriptions for City Voices. He served as City Voices' business manager in addition to being a columnist. Lastly, Marvin was my best friend, husband, and soulmate. I will keep him in my heart forever. May he rest in peace.
Note: You can read Marvin's many columns in City Voices here: http://www.nycvoices.org/marvin_spieler_column.php
The Clubhouse Brought Out the Best in Me
The Clubhouse Brought Out the Best in Me
By Arturo Soto
Though It Was a Struggle to Get There
I was but a small lad of ten feeling the pull of changing hormones, with puberty fast approaching, when I first started showing signs of schizophrenia. The outgoing, happy little boy who spent his summer days hunting praying mantises and grasshoppers in a huge abandoned lot near home was withdrawing more and more. No one paid any mind since I was always alone and aloof, even with my own room in a family of five children.
No one noticed my staying indoors for days on end during the hot summer months or staying up all hours of the night. Eventually, my disconnecting from the outside world led to hallucinations. Suicidal thoughts were developing in my mind, as I longed to be released from the growing dark solitude taking over my life. All of this was in sharp contrast to the brilliant summer sun illuminating my bed near the window where I found myself sleeping more and more. During the final week of July 1979 things came to a serious conclusion when I attempted suicide.
Over the following two years I did well, fueled by the thrill of starting high school and getting some nice female attention in a school that specialized in music and art. Unfortunately, I got involved with a religious group near my home. This may have triggered my disconnecting. I transferred from my current high school to one closer to home to be near the people in the religious group.
Eventually, the “religious” people who I thought were my friends changed on me as they looked upon the things I enjoyed as sinful. Next thing I knew I was being treated as an outcast. I started feeling more isolated, keeping to myself, skipping out on school, spending more time alone in my room.
Around 1986, I started seeing a psychiatrist on a regular basis who put me on medication. He also emphasized my strengths, specifically my artistic skills. He was impressed by my bizarre Lovecraftian-style drawings, which I created while attending the High School of Music and Art.
In 1989, I met my sister’s future husband who introduced me to computers.
It was another miraculous life-changing moment as I sat in front of my Commodore Amiga 500 home computer. I found myself instinctively getting into computers with the help of my ever-present brother-in-law. It was an amazing thing to be able to do pretty much anything I wanted on a computer from creating music, drawing, doing some coding with AMOS, writing short stories and poetry, to working on 3D renderings and CAD programs.
Eventually, my mother helped me find an apartment in the projects, but my stay there was brief due to my mental illness and the bad neighborhood. Thanks to my therapist, I was moved out of that negative setting and into a housing program for the mentally ill called GEEL Community Services. It was like the doors of my dreams had finally opened and anything I wanted to do in life felt possible.
Where I was once shunned, I was now welcomed. Where I once felt the only place I could exist happily was in my room, now I knew there was a place in the world for me. Thanks to GEEL Community Services, I found my way into the welcoming clubhouse circuit. The GEEL clubhouse eventually changed hands about ten years later becoming Fountain House.
Fountain House has given me a sense of groundedness which caused me to realize and utilize my strengths. Thanks to Fountain House, I have once more begun to write on a regular basis beyond just using the Internet when at home, and computers for a new enjoyable hobby. It’s a good feeling to be praised and thanked outside of gaming forums for my writing skills. It is as if my presence has expanded in a more positive way, being face-to-face with people rather than facing a computer monitor.
Fountain House, along with my housing program GEEL, has taught me what a valuable and enriching gift being proactive is, where I can act on what I know instead of waiting for it to happen on its own. They have shown and instilled in me the confidence that I’m capable of pulling my own weight and living a fuller, more productive and comfortable life. All I need is to just get out there and do it.
Trauma: A Deeply Disturbing Experience that Won’t Go Away
Trauma: A Deeply Disturbing Experience that Won’t Go Away
By Jeffrey V. Perry, CPRP, Program Manager, Baltic Street AEH, Inc.
Transforming the Negative Effects of Traumatic Experiences
Let's discuss trauma from a deeply personal viewpoint and without going into the gory details of each moment of duress that a human being may encounter. Let us speak of this from our knowledge-base as we recount in a general way what goes on.
To begin with, this is my personal experience and not part of a paid study of anonymous subjects. Trauma is always that untold story. Regarding myself, I admit to going through traumas on several levels, from very physical, just physical, and very emotional to just emotional.
Trauma is finally entering the minds of those who should care, say they care, or those who are working in vocations of care at every level. More studies are being done with trauma in mind.
Trauma is an unexplained or unlawful hurt that occurs that becomes unspoken, or whose voice becomes muted. Trauma seems to own a place in your mind and takes residence there. It pays no rent, but cannot be evicted since it owns that space. Trauma is also physical and may be a reoccurring pain that causes someone to relive an accident or abuse of some kind.
I learned at a “trauma-informed care training” for peer advocates that there are very high rates of trauma experienced by prison inmates prior to entering prison, which includes witnessing shootings, beatings, robbery, rape and other crimes, participating in crimes, or being the victim of said crimes. Many are imprisoned for repeating abuses on others that they had experienced themselves. They would be the first to tell you that abusing someone was the last thing they wanted to do. Research “trauma-informed care” to learn about trauma and that it occurs for people not only in jails or mental hospitals, but as a veiled or cloaked experience for everyone.
I regard my personal trauma sorrowfully as a badge of courage, not unlike those who now speak from a survivor’s standpoint, thus freeing themselves from whatever pains they have endured. Trauma, as I define, is not exposed, but is just lived with.
Some of the greatest role-models are those who live with physical trauma daily, as indicated by the wheelchairs that transport them or the braces they wear on their bodies. This is what emotional trauma looks like on the inside.
If we can discover how to transform the negative effects into more positive ones, maybe traumas can be reversed to help us to cope. For me, writing about trauma is a way of reversing its effects. Human beings learn to cope with adversity, for whatever reason, eventually.
It is now our task to accelerate a positive process; to do more than just be informed about trauma, but to learn in what ways we can achieve positive conclusions. Let's learn more about trauma so we can stop blaming and stigmatizing those dealing with it. If we can nurture positive attitudes against negative effects, maybe there will be more hope on the horizon. Let's bring trauma out of the shadows to help people assume a productive lifestyle.
Note: This essay was written in memory of my good friend Marvin Spieler, who, in addition to many benevolent activities, ran a support group for many years for survivors of trauma and abuse.
By Jeffrey V. Perry, CPRP, Program Manager, Baltic Street AEH, Inc.
Transforming the Negative Effects of Traumatic Experiences
Let's discuss trauma from a deeply personal viewpoint and without going into the gory details of each moment of duress that a human being may encounter. Let us speak of this from our knowledge-base as we recount in a general way what goes on.
To begin with, this is my personal experience and not part of a paid study of anonymous subjects. Trauma is always that untold story. Regarding myself, I admit to going through traumas on several levels, from very physical, just physical, and very emotional to just emotional.
Trauma is finally entering the minds of those who should care, say they care, or those who are working in vocations of care at every level. More studies are being done with trauma in mind.
Trauma is an unexplained or unlawful hurt that occurs that becomes unspoken, or whose voice becomes muted. Trauma seems to own a place in your mind and takes residence there. It pays no rent, but cannot be evicted since it owns that space. Trauma is also physical and may be a reoccurring pain that causes someone to relive an accident or abuse of some kind.
I learned at a “trauma-informed care training” for peer advocates that there are very high rates of trauma experienced by prison inmates prior to entering prison, which includes witnessing shootings, beatings, robbery, rape and other crimes, participating in crimes, or being the victim of said crimes. Many are imprisoned for repeating abuses on others that they had experienced themselves. They would be the first to tell you that abusing someone was the last thing they wanted to do. Research “trauma-informed care” to learn about trauma and that it occurs for people not only in jails or mental hospitals, but as a veiled or cloaked experience for everyone.
I regard my personal trauma sorrowfully as a badge of courage, not unlike those who now speak from a survivor’s standpoint, thus freeing themselves from whatever pains they have endured. Trauma, as I define, is not exposed, but is just lived with.
Some of the greatest role-models are those who live with physical trauma daily, as indicated by the wheelchairs that transport them or the braces they wear on their bodies. This is what emotional trauma looks like on the inside.
If we can discover how to transform the negative effects into more positive ones, maybe traumas can be reversed to help us to cope. For me, writing about trauma is a way of reversing its effects. Human beings learn to cope with adversity, for whatever reason, eventually.
It is now our task to accelerate a positive process; to do more than just be informed about trauma, but to learn in what ways we can achieve positive conclusions. Let's learn more about trauma so we can stop blaming and stigmatizing those dealing with it. If we can nurture positive attitudes against negative effects, maybe there will be more hope on the horizon. Let's bring trauma out of the shadows to help people assume a productive lifestyle.
Note: This essay was written in memory of my good friend Marvin Spieler, who, in addition to many benevolent activities, ran a support group for many years for survivors of trauma and abuse.
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