How to Find Disability-Friendly Jobs on Craigslist.org

How to Find Disability-Friendly Jobs on Craigslist.org
There is a way to find jobs on Craigslist where people with disabilities are encouraged to apply. First, visit Craigslist for the city in which you want to work. Under Jobs, click the appropriate sector where you want to find jobs (for example: admin/office or nonprofit sector). In the search box at top of the next page, type the word “disabilities.” You will get a list of job openings by date. Select one and scroll to the bottom of the page where you will see a number of bulleted items. Look for a bulleted item that says: “OK to highlight this job opening for persons with disabilities.” Although this does not guarantee a friendly work atmosphere for people with psychiatric disabilities or that the employer will provide “reasonable accommodations” to ensure that you are comfortable there—it is more likely that the employer will be sensitive to those issues than those postings that lack said bulleted item.
If you are still not sure how to go about this, send an email to newyorkcityvoices@gmail.com and someone will walk you through it. Thank you Craig, founder of Craigslist, for allowing employers to specify that they welcome disabled applicants. Good luck in your job search. Let us know how it goes.

Our Experience at the NYC Creating Wellness Fair

Our Experience at the NYC Creating Wellness Fair
By Jen Cohn, BS, CPRP and Christina Serrano, BS, CPRP, Wellness Trainers, CSPNJ Institute for Wellness and Recovery Initiatives
On Tuesday, June 25, 2013 we attended the first annual Wellness Fair at the Harlem YMCA located at 180 W 135th St. in New York City.  The event was coordinated by an energized team through the leadership of Carlton Whitmore, Jody Silver, and Sharon Niederman from the NYC Department of Health and Mental Hygiene (DOHMH) Office of Consumer Affairs, along with a variety of community based organizations, including NYAPRS, Baltic Street AEH, Howie T. Harp, New York City OMH Field Office, in addition to technical assistance by Peggy Swarbrick of Collaborative Support Programs of New Jersey (CSPNJ). It was so exciting to be part of this wellness community. Despite the 90+-degree heat, approximately 100 people attended the event, which was scheduled from 10am-3pm. The program included opening remarks by Jody Silver, Director of the DOHMH Office of Consumer Affairs and Colleen Mimnagh, a peer support specialist with NYAPRS. Presentations were made by staff from the DOHMH Take Care NY Campaign, and the Bureau of Chronic Disease Prevention and Tobacco Control. Presentations included an overview of wellness in the 8 dimensions by Dr. Peggy Swarbrick, and presentations by Rebecca Lee, a physical activity coordinator, on sugary drinks and nutrition, and by Jenna Ritter, who talked about yoga for healing. There were several other stimulating workshops, including drumming and healthy eating. The gym floor was filled with vendors sharing information on diabetes, smoking cessation, controlling blood sugar, etc.
How refreshing to attend a health event and view wellness through different lenses. Christina discovered Mike Veny, an “outside the box” presenter using drumming as a tool to engage recovering individuals.
Christina on Drumming at the Fair
Drumming peaked my interest, being of Puerto Rican heritage with a family of percussion players. After talking with Mike, I decided to attend his workshop. Overall, I was intrigued and energized by this great workshop in a comfortable room where a circle of people played various percussion instruments, rain sticks, djembé drums, and others I couldn’t readily identify, but sounded amazing. I chose a big beautiful djembé drum.
Mike spoke of his mental health journey and inspiration to share his talent, easily connecting with the 20+ participants who acknowledged his challenge facilitating a workshop while working through severe anxiety. Mike got us out of our seats for a “rhythm test” icebreaker. He played cowbell as we walked to the beat, found a partner, struck funny poses, and screamed out loud when the music stopped.
Then we sat down to make our magic. Mike conducted with hand gestures to stop, or “bring it down” to a quieter sound, encouraging us to create our own music and connect with one another.
Shy curious participants, myself included, were confident drummers by workshop’s end. Everyone had a solo and we drummed our appreciation. We each shared what we learned and felt. Everyone smiled, having shed our daily stress.
Mike conducts drumming events across the country, such as employee team building workshops and large conferences of several hundred people. His website testimonials speak for themselves (www.transformingstigma.com). I am now among those who love to drum their feelings.
Jen on Nutrition at the Fair
I attended an eye-opening nutrition workshop run by Ruth Chiles R.D., CDN. Ruth opened by handing us paper plates and asking, “What did you have for dinner last night?” instructing us to draw last night’s dinner. It seems the old food pyramid has been replaced with a 9-inch plate, ¼ portion for protein, another ¼ for carbohydrates, and ½ for vegetables, or a combination of fruits and vegetables. We should be eating a rainbow—a variety of non-processed foods, especially fruits and vegetables—meaning you’re getting a greater variety of vitamins. (See Choose My Plate, http://www.choosemyplate.org)
We discussed what we should eat and how we should eat it. Surprisingly, eating Chinese food straight from the container is a bad idea. Question: How many servings of food would be in Ruth’s pint of vegetable fried rice (carbohydrates)? The audience screamed 5! No, 10! Answer: A pint of Chinese vegetable fried rice holds about 5 servings of rice. That’s enough to fill up 5 meals worth of carbohydrates on your plate. Ruth emphasized most people eat half a pint (out of the container!) or may eat it all as one meal. By eating from your plate, you’ll eat less than the whole container.
Finally, we checked our plates to see if they matched the serving recommendations. Good news! Most folks ate the recommended portions. I left the workshop with newfound knowledge.
The overall take-home message of the fair was this: Do what makes you healthy, happy and well. Eating healthy, exercising and using constructive outlets for emotional balance are good for everyone, though the path of overall wellness varies per individual. Whether yoga, drumming, quitting smoking, or eating more nutritiously, the path to wellness is an inspiring journey.
Note: You can contact NYC DOHMH Office Of Consumer Affairs, (347) 396-7194 or Bfoster@health.nyc.gov. They also have a wellness list serve that promotes wellness information and resources: wellnessworks4us@yahoogroups.com

Young Man Interrupted

Young Man Interrupted

By Bob

How Mental Illness Detoured My Extraordinary Education/Career

I was born into a family of seven in Minnesota 60 years ago, then moved to Pennsylvania in 1964 where I developed many friendships of all ages over the years. I attended high school in a Pittsburgh suburb and excelled in both academia, sports and extracurricular activities. Upon graduation I was accepted at Yale, Dartmouth, Princeton and Notre Dame, to name a few. I chose Princeton.

My family was not wealthy and so I needed to work on campus and take out quite a few loans in order to matriculate. I did have a partial scholarship, but since my four sisters and I were born within five years of each other, we were all in universities simultaneously, which caused an extreme financial burden on the family. 

I also played sports and majored in English Literature. My freshman year I lettered in both football and crew. My grades were not good, as I was stretched pretty thin and also was experimenting with grass. And I had a required withdrawal at the end of my freshman year.

With the help of my dad I got a job on the Great Lakes as a Merchant Marine, which paid well enough for me to return to Princeton after another lapse. I was still smoking grass and began smoking cigarettes, too. It was the 1970s and my hair was really long. While out of school I waited anxiously for my draft number. The Vietnam war was still waging. Luckily my number was high. 

I returned to Princeton University in New Jersey and did better in school, quit football but still rowed Crew which was very strenuous. I also joined Tower Club and started drinking a lot there. The legal age was lowered to 18 while I attended, much to my detriment. I had a girl friend I professed to love who was a little older than me and was going to Rutgers after undergrad work at Vassar.

My Junior year I was still rowing crew and again doing poorly in classes. During this time my mom was dying of cancer and my sibs were still in college. My dad wanted me to withdraw from the school I loved. Plus I had marriage plans. I got a case of poison ivy while working a summer job on campus and was treated with cortical steroids which I was allergic to. That, the drinking, and use of grass and the pressure caused me to have my first breakdown. I went into convulsions. My father came in from Pennsylvania and he and my girlfriend drove me back to Pittsburgh, since I would not be allowed on a flight being incoherent and so debilitated from the spasms. I remember lying on the back floor of my girlfriend's car in agony as my dad drove us back to Pittsburgh; it felt like my brain was on fire and lit up like a klieg light.

I ended up at Western Pennsylvania Institute and Clinic (WPIC) and was diagnosed with schizophrenia. My current diagnosis is schizo-affective disorder. I have been hospitalized some 20 times over the years, even in state institutions such as Mayview.

My mother died after I left Princeton. I was heavily in debt and defaulted on my loans. Years later, through perseverance, I paid them back with interest, established credit and worked at many different jobs despite having additional breakdowns. My family really didn't help me out at all during that time. Not one of my siblings visited while I was hospitalized. They all are married with happy existences.

At the present time, I am happy with a girlfriend and two cats which are like our children. My family is more accepting of me now that I am well. I gave up drinking years ago as well as smoking. I went back to night school at The University of Pittsburgh and graduated with Honors with a degree in the Humanities, a major in English and minor in Philosophy, while working full time. None of my sibs came to my graduation ceremonies.

My dad died too young, just after retiring.

Although now I enjoy fishing with friends, playing board games, cats, pottery and poker, cooking and am pretty much a homebody, I was always underemployed, and often worked for minimum wage. Now, I am on disability for my chronic illness. My last hospitalization was two years ago.

It seems the medicines just fail to work at some point, but I know my symptoms and generally go in voluntarily. My current medications are Saphris and Depakote. I see a psychiatrist regularly every three months.

Landmark Settlement for New York City Adult Home Residents

Landmark Settlement for New York City Adult Home Residents
By Jota Borgmann, Senior Staff Attorney, MFY Legal Services, Inc.
State to Fund At Least 2,000 Units of Supported Housing for Residents
On July 23, adult home residents in New York City reached a landmark settlement with the State of New York. The settlement ensures that thousands of residents of 23 large adult homes (see sidebar) will have the opportunity to live in their own homes with the services they need to succeed and be part of their communities.
The settlement follows nearly a decade of litigation in a related case, Disability Advocates, Inc. v. Paterson. The new case, O’Toole v. Cuomo, was brought by residents of three adult homes on behalf of approximately 4,000 residents citywide. The plaintiffs alleged that New York State unnecessarily segregates people with mental illness in adult homes in violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). “This case puts a face on people with mental illnesses and our struggle to be integrated back into the community at large,” said Plaintiff Steven Farrell, a resident of Oceanview Manor Home for Adults in Brooklyn. The settlement offers adult home residents “freedom and the ability to grow,” said Plaintiff Raymond O’Toole.
The State agreed to fund at least 2,000 units of supported housing for adult home residents, and more if needed. Every adult home resident who qualifies will have the choice to move to community housing within five years. Supported housing is an apartment in the community that comes with rent assistance and support services. Residents can live alone or with roommates if they choose. The support services may include visits from case managers or help with moving, healthcare, shopping, medication, or personal care.  
Many adult home residents are excited about finally having the opportunity to move out of adult homes and have more freedom and choice in their day-to-day lives. “I’m thrilled about this settlement,” said Plaintiff Ilona Spiegel. “At my adult home, they don’t do anything to inspire you or encourage you to move forward. I know how to take care of myself. I want to work my way back to independence.”
MFY Legal Services, Inc. represents the adult home residents with co-counsel from Disability Rights New York, the Bazelon Center for Mental Health Law, New York Lawyers for the Public Interest, Urban Justice Center and Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison, LLP.
Adult home residents in New York City who have questions about the settlement may call MFY toll-free at (877) 417-2427.

[Sidebar:]
The settlement will affect residents with serious mental illness living in these 23 adult homes:
Belle Harbor Manor
Brooklyn Adult Care Center
Central Assisted Living, LLC
Elm York LLC
Garden of Eden Home
Harbor Terrace Adult Home and Assisted Living
Kings Adult Care Center
Lakeside Manor Home for Adults
Mermaid Manor Home for Adults
New Gloria's Manor Home for Adults
New Haven Manor
Oceanview Manor Home for Adults
Park Inn Home
Parkview Home for Adults
Queens Adult Care Center
Riverdale Manor Home for Adults
Rockaway Manor HFA
S.S. Cosmas and Damian Adult Home
Sanford Home
Seaview Manor, LLC
Surf Manor Home for Adults
Surfside Manor Home for Adults
Wavecrest Home for Adults

“I Have an Illness...Shit!”

Editor-At-Large/As I See It
By Marvin Spieler
“I Have an Illness...Shit!”
I came down with mental illness when I was 16 years of age. It wasn’t until age 36 that I learned how to and want to break out of the revolving door. Twenty years lost. I couldn’t develop a real career. I wanted to be an urban planner or a high school teacher. I became neither. I was a professional mental patient. That was my career.
So many hospitals. I was advised to write The Patient’s Guide to Psychiatric Hospitals. I thought about it and said no. Living it was one thing, writing about it would have been harder.
You can fight the revolving door of hospitalizations. I fight my illness every day and WIN!  It’s not easy. At times I’d like my three meals a day handed to me by joining the chow line at a psychiatric hospital. That’s the easy way. NO! NO! NO!  I fight. What do I do to stay out? I’ll tell you: Here goes!
I don’t like to wash up and shave. But I do it! It’s a pain in the ass. I don’t want to look like a bum. I then feel self-conscious as a result. People look at you strangely. What are they thinking about me? So I shave as often as needed!
I don’t like going grocery shopping, cooking, and washing dishes after every meal, every day so I can eat! But I do it.
I don’t like taking my psych meds twice a day. I don’t even like setting up my week’s supply of meds in my pill containers! Why? Because it reminds me of my god-damned illness!  An illness the public fears. They think we’re violent. In reality, I can’t fight myself out of a paper bag! Violent? Me? That’s a real joke! Yet, if I tell a potential friend I have mental illness, guess what? He or she may not return my calls or see me again! Now that’s an illness I have to live with! They may start to fear me. They may not want to turn their backs on me for fear that I may slug them. My friends are limited as a result. I cherish the ones I have.
Because of my illness, I never had a good paying job. Why? I feared success! Success made me feel uncomfortable. Tension, anxiety would result. I’m shy. I’m not a people person. In this day and age, you’ve got to be a team player. I’d rather work alone. You need to be a “people person.” I’m not. I don’t interact as well as I would like.
Look, it took most of my work-a-day-life to overcome fear of success. By the time I conquered this problem, I was too old to get a real paying job.
You may say he means fear of failure. Most people who don’t succeed have this. Not me. Success was always mine to a point. Then I’d quit, get fired, or become psychotic.
Yes, the illness gives me limitations that hurt  me! Not someone else. I’m feared. Ha!
Housing! Tell me about housing! I had a subsidized apartment till recently. What happened? The rent kept on going up but the subsidy didn’t. I had to move in with a friend. I couldn’t afford to live even in Newark, New Jersey! My check isn’t enough to pay rent, food, and other essentials.
Depending on your personal viewpoint, the above article may sound negative. However, to me I have a great deal of accomplishments. Whether I like taking my meds or not, I take them daily. It is now in excess of twenty-five years on medicines. I call the process being Hospital-Free. A record I’m proud of. As a grown-up, there are certain things you must do to be able to call yourself an adult. I mentioned a few. I’m happy with myself. I became an advocate for mental health. I do think positive usually. Success is no longer a problem. I’m a doer. I’m proud of who I am.
My advice to you is this. Take your meds if prescribed. Develop a support system that works for you. STAY HOSPITAL-FREE. When you feel comfortable with this process, then you’ll go on to achieve your goals in life!

Ward Stories Winter 2014: Poetry

Ward Stories
A column organized by Dan Frey, Interim Poetry Editor
In this edition of Ward Stories I am pleased to present two powerful poems. DeAnn puts the struggle of a single mother to poetry while Chaim shares his experience of love with a fellow consumer/survivor in rhyming verse. Enjoy.

First Born Son
By DeAnn
Once a bright promise
Star of our eyes
And hearts,
His mind broke,
Into disorder.
The cold hard stone
Of sorrow
Dropped,
Sending rings
Of disappointment
Ever outward.

His father,
My husband,
Died years ago,
Broken-hearted.
His sister
My daughter has
Stood long in grief’s shadow,
I ask for her forgiveness.

Blinded with pain
I prayed
For God to pull me
From the smoke and ash,
I prayed for Him
To wash away the grime
Of sorrowful days.
I didn’t even see that
He was there all along,
Patiently holding me up
Waiting to breathe
Hope’s holy light
Into my darkest hours.


I Will Stay By You Always
By Chaim
Your depression, not unlike a heavy fog.
Like the stench and gloom of industrial smog.
We both just want it to go away.
And you are too sick to hope, too tired to pray.

They give you therapy and pills to ease the pain.
But the gloom and sadness still remains.

Maybe it is written in fate.
Your feelings of sadness, which we both hate.

Maybe it was festering in the womb, before you were born.
This creature called depression, so relentless and strong.

But despite the beast that keeps you in bed.
Crying dry tears feeling half dead.

My love, I just want you to know.
That I too feel powerless and hate it so!

But my love, don't feel that you must smile.
Or I will pick myself up and leave after a while.

Yes it's got to get better, just you wait and see
Yes that's the way, it's got to be

But Heaven forbid, if these feelings never leave?
My love, you must believe

I'll stay with you always, through thick and thin
Regardless of what emotional shape you are in

For our love is beyond space and time
I am forever yours and you are eternally mine

A Death and A Life

A Death and A Life
By Steve
It is July 4, 2013. I am a consumer on my way this Independence Day to visit my mother in a nursing facility on Long Island. On the train from Brooklyn, an inebriated young man is yelling out the same dulling message: "I can't wait to get those burgers on the grill. I can't wait to taste the chicken. I can almost smell the grill charcoal. Those sausages are about ready to pop." I am not at a barbecue. As with all too many consumers, I stand or sit alone, except for a few acquaintances, who are similarly encumbered with managing their daily existences.
I approach my mother at the nursing home quietly, almost as a burglar, stealthily, but not wanting to rob her—not to disturb her: she is listing to the left side in her steel-bound contrivance of a wheelchair. This lady, who could tell me and my sisters that one day life would be better, has now arrived at a place belying her wishes and predilections.
She has just turned 86, suffering from Alzheimer's disease, at the nursing facility where she has lived since my middle sister and her husband stopped caring for her because it became too hard to move her from bedroom to bathroom to television and back again. My sister had also nursed my father through his Alzheimer's ordeal, until he, like my mother, had to seek hospital attention.
Now my mother calls home this sad repository of lost and wounded souls like herself. As a consumer, I have no substantial income, no home, no security to offer her, haunting and hurting me all the more, as I see her now, defenseless and utterly alone!
The orderly asks me if I want to feed my mother. I measure out spoonfuls and forkfuls of nourishment for her as I'm sure she did for me 60 years ago when I was an infant, but she stops eating. I call a nurse to help me, but my mother, after opening her eyes to respond to "Ethel, are you OK?", the eyes shut once more.
After the nurse withdraws, I grasp the long textured, firm, elongated fingers of my mother's right hand. Then, I massage her shoulder, telling her "It's going to be OK." Unfortunately, I don't really believe this, but continue talking to her, reassuring her I'm working, which she never has believed. As the 1950s to 1970s muzak continues to blare ferociously through the cavernous lunch/meeting room, I stay entwined with my mother for two hours, maybe less, maybe more...for two hours. Eventually, I leave the nursing facility for home as a defeated warrior.
Back with my mother for what might be a final visit, I find myself at Long Island Jewish Hospital on the eastern end of Queens that slips into western Nassau County. I stroke her black/silver-streaked, sweat-soaked hair. A grotesque plastic mask stretches over her face. An insidious blue-ribbed tube futilely feeds my mother's almost lifeless body. God is trying to take her life, to grant her the only peace she has ever known in her time on this planet.
I'm telling her over and over again that I love her. Even though I'm now an adult, I try to erase the terror, the fear of abandonment of the little boy who never heard any of this love from my mother, or not much. I only heard I was unable to cope successfully with the world. Now my mother faces a long repose. She, who as a teenager, lost her mother, is alone with her son, a consumer who can't help her, as she felt defeated to help him when he was growing up. Thus, we are both cast adrift to find our way home.