Reflection

madeline graham's photos

Life Circumstances

As the years go on, I realize how fortunate I am that despite the life circumstances that I have faced, I feel like a mended being who is now in control of my destination.  If  I visit a difficult time in my life, I do it in a manner that does not affect my present situation.  The best possible way I have discovered to do this is by writing about the past and surrendering it to experience.  I would not choose to have any other being go through what happened to me, but I know there were special people in my life who were like angels in my hour of need.

I alluded to the foster grandparent program at the orphanage.  These people were god sent.  I could count on them to come on a regular basis, but I also learned about death through this program.  My first grandparent who preferred to be called Uncle Hobart came to see me on Fridays, I believe.  One day he did not come and I asked Sr. Margaret Ann where was Uncle Hobart.  Her response made me feel horrible, but I could not cry.  I could never cry in public.  She said Uncle Hobart had been driving against doctors orders and struck a telephone pole dying instantly of a heart attack.  I am not sure how I knew what death was, but I knew he would not be coming back.

Later, Grandma Jeannette would be my foster grandparent.  Our relationship lasted beyond the orphanage as she and I would live merely streets apart from one another.  Sadly, I did not get to say goodbye to her when she passed away as I was hospitalized when this happened.

Grandma Abbey was wonderful person who crocheted hats and scarfs for the girls.  One day she did not come for awhile and I asked her why she had not been coming.  She told me her daughter had been in a horrible car accident (prior to seat belts and car seats), she was holding her newborn and the baby flew out the window.  I listened and snuggled a little closer to her then.

I am grateful for so many people in my life because it easily could have been steered permanently off course.   

The Potential Within

What many individuals may not realize is that there are tax incentives for companies that hire individuals with disabilities.  The individual may be highly skilled, but the company may not pay an equitable rate of pay for the individual because of the disability.

The dilemma then becomes does the individual who has say a mental disability, which may not be a visible illness, inform the potential employer or keep it a secret so he/she can reap the benefits of insurance, 401k, paid time off etc.

Whether or not one wants to admit it, stigma surrounds many illnesses including mental illness. Sadly, the potential of individuals may be lost because of the difficulties in trying to assimilate into society.

I am aware of individuals who were caught in the mental health hospitals so long that their emotional progression halted and their education stopped before attaining a high school diploma.  Additional educational difficulties may include special needs, affecting speech, reading and eye hand coordination or other abilities.

Housing in the form of HUD or section 8 for low income individuals is available, but at what cost to tax-payers.  If these same individuals were permitted to discover the talents within, what would the contribution to society be?

Group homes are often poorly managed and individuals are subjected to unspeakable abuse.

Education is currently available for individuals through age 26, but often there are many barriers to completing that education including transportation. Young people just learning they have a lifelong mental illness find accepting the fact they will need medication for the rest of their life often choose to rebel, which interferes with their ability to acquire the high school diploma let alone a college degree.

Bottom line parents or loved ones of those with disabilities are the lifeline to assuring the best advocacy for those affected.

The summer before entering my senior year of high school, I was working for Neurosurgeons and contemplating a career in the medical field. By the end of the summer, I had my first breakdown. About six months later, I began the road to recovery.  I had fulfilled all of the requisites to graduate except for a religion class (Catholic) and government.  A relative who stood by my side through thick and thin made sure I graduated from high school by transporting me every day for six weeks to Immaculata High School in Detroit where I successfully completed my coursework.

This same relative urged me to go onto college.  I earned a B.S. in English, language and literature from EMU and an Associate in Business Administration from Oakland Community College.  I attended other colleges as well lacking direction, but thankfully I was encouraged to continue.  I have had the privilege to work in both the regular classroom and with special needs.  Additionally, I have success as an independent contractor working for various newspapers.

My dream is to encourage others by example to never give up no matter how difficult the challenge and to be a mentor to those who need a listening ear.

Babushka

I listen attentively to the Russian Jews who speak in the coffee room where I reside.  I do not know what is being said, but like a child, I try to understand.  Their patience with me makes me feel loved. Over and over again, I try to practice even the basic word .. Привет! (Privét!) - inf. Hello.

They speak with me in broken English, but I have learned one individual used to play base in the Russian Symphony Orchestra, another has left an ex-husband behind. There are stories of Aushwitz, and the pain associated with such woes.

When I was a child in an orphanage, we had foster grandparents and the loved shared by them surrounded me with warmth.  The Russians rekindle that feeling.

Perhaps, one day individuals will recognize that our moral responsibility is to view one another with the love and kindness that we felt in our mother's womb. 

Unfortunately, not all infants feel this, but fortunately, most do, and if the world is kind when that infant enters the world--even during difficult circumstances; perhaps, that child's voice will become the one that offers reforms that improve the lives of so many others.

Baby Christmas

     When I was about ten or eleven years old, while living at St. Vincent Sarah Fisher Home for Children, Sister Helen had me work with a baby who had a body cast from her hips on down. The baby's name was Christmas. When I asked Sister what had happened to her, she told me her father had thrown her against a wall. I could always count on Sister telling me the truth even when it was hard to hear.

     I loved this precious baby as if she were my own. Her skin was dark and her eyes black as marbles. Her smile was endearing and I simply could not understand how a father could do this to his own child. I was glad I had the opportunity to work with her, but like all of my orphaned friends one day she disappeared.

Soldier, Stutterer, Somalian War

I knew a soldier who happened to stutter,
He struggled with the demons he had from war
Drug affliction, his drugs of choice alcohol and heroin

He couldn't find his place at home
His balance thrown off by what he had known
Cats, the vultures on human carcasses

He tried so many times to rediscover the man inside
But his pain was strong
And it was not long that he wandered from the path

The VA was not there in his pain and despair
He was found alone in the apartment he had
No proper military farewell

His last ride was with a friend on Harley through the Ville
His remains in an urn
Strapped to the bike

Laid to rest at a half way house
The urn discreetly placed
The Soldier, Stutter of the Somalian War

He could not utter the cry kept inside,
But for the few who knew his story
And dared to offer a glance and Salute the Man!

Homelessness comes to my door

In 2011, my world slowly crashed before my eyes.  I was foreclosed upon and my 18 year old son had to learn how to be a man.  Mental health services on a national level are the silent disgrace of the United States of America.  I was facing homelessness and for the first time in my life, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do.  I was working as a substitute teacher assistant and interning at a radio station.

Livingston County Community Mental Health made no provisions for my situation knowing full well I would be homeless.  Certainly they would not take me seriously when I suggested I could live at a park. I was told point blank I could live at the park and meet with them at the Howell coffee shop for updates. Common sense says a park is not a solution. Then the kindness of gentle soul I knew stepped up and indicated that he had a spare bedroom.  I sublet the apartment and for five months I tried to make a go of it.  Sadly, this fella had issues.  He suffered a seizure one day, and I called for medical assistance. Authorities took him to the local hospital who indicated there was no evidence of  a seizure.  Yeah right.  I worked with special needs students, I knew the identifiers including the shaking body and drooling at the mouth.  My objective was to clear the area so he would not be hurt and to call for immediate assistance. Two weeks later, this man dropped dead in his own bed in the early morning hours.  He was only 38 years old.  He practically owned a pharmacy with the amount of medications he was prescribed including narcotics, which were not being properly monitored.

I know I am not alone in observing the dereliction of duty running rampant in the mental health system. Reforms need to happen at a state level and hopefully, the State of Michigan could serve as the model for what the system should look like at national level.

If you have ideas for reform, please feel free to email me at grhmadeleine@aol.com.

Thank you.