Bowing to history in gratuitous shoes…..

Ffolkes,

If such were not overtly mundane, I’d let myself go insane today; the weather’s perfect for it….. But, as with any activity whose successful application depends on timing, this one requires the highest degree of precision possible, in order to have even a small hope of making the grade. No doubt, the responsible parties involved won’t assume any blame, should things go badly, even though any such event would be entirely their doing, but, I knew from the get-go that would be the case….

In fact, that is precisely why I allowed them to be present at all; now that the time for action draws nigh, I can admit, at least to y’all, that this whole thing has been a sting operation…. We’re running a clandestine operation to find and gather together the largest collection of bad metaphors ever created in one space, in order to use them as the kindling for a massive concept burning this evening….

No, I haven’t a fucking clue as to what any of the above means, or even if it SHOULD have any meaning…. My brain is so foggy and, well, empty this morning, I just started typing, to see what would come out…. The above paragraphs are the result, and yes, I’m pretty ashamed…. It’s as bad as anything I’ve ever written, I think, and is only saved from immediate deletion because I can use it as an example, of how NOT to go about drawing people into one’s story, or post, with a compelling beginning…. I mean, I’d feel lucky to know that ANYONE got through those paragraphs without retching, or otherwise showing the natural reaction to such dross and drivel…. Hell, even as an example, it’s boring….

I’m still not sure what this will mean for today’s Pearl, but, THAT is nothing unusual, I would guess…. I often haven’t much of a clue as to where I’ll end up…. Hell, I mostly haven’t a clue as to where I’ve started…. All I know right now is that I’m still sleepy, and typing is making me cranky…. I should probably go have some pizza for breakfast, to get back into creative mode….

If the pizza didn’t have jalapeños all over it, I’d do that…. For me, it’s a bit early for hot peppers, no matter how savory they may be after a night’s marination, swapping flavors with the pizza cheese…. In addition, having had a LOT of experience with pizza for breakfast, I can guarantee that consumption of both pepperoni and jalapeños before 6 AM is considered too dangerous for someone of my age…. Someone (not me….) could die before everything returned to normal…. As you are well aware, we HATE dead bodies around here before 8 AM; once the kids are off to school, disposal is much more convenient….

Having lost all sense of proportion and/or culpability, I give up, officially…. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but, this isn’t it….. You may end up with a great deal of recycled material today, which, given what I’ve seen so far, is probably a good thing…. It may well be the only thing that saves my ass, and yours, should you choose to come along for the ride….

Shall we Pearl?…..

“There are no educators. As a thinker, one should speak only of self-education. The education of youth by others is an experiment, conducted on one as yet unknown and unknowable, or a leveling on principle, to make the new character, whatever it may be, conform to the habits and customs that prevail: in both cases, therefore, something unworthy of the thinker – the work of parents and teachers, whom an audaciously honest person has called ‘nos enemis naturels.'” — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844-1900), The Wanderer and His Shadow
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I was right in at least one respect; you’ll see quite a bit of archived material today, even if this section is all you get to read….. Here is a discussion of the ins and outs of mental health, or the lack thereof, from someone who has a pretty good grasp of BOTH sides of that issue, to wit: yours truly, with over 15 years having worked as a psychiatric therapist, and over three decades of experiencing personal insanity of varying degrees, at various times throughout the latter half of my life…. Been there, done that, so let’s move on shall we?…. Hope you enjoy this small interlude, and short journey into the precepts of madness, gigoid style….

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How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? Only one, but it takes a really long time and the light bulb has to want to change.” — Smart Bee

Boy, if it wasn’t for the power of metaphor, I would be lost!….. This statement, though presented in a manner that makes it obviously a joke, is actually quite serious in its relevance to sanity, psychiatry, and how the mind works, in general. I worked for many years in the field of mental health care, as a therapist, and I can tell you quite honestly, that this is absolutely true, in many cases of what the rest of society terms insanity…. which is a word, and a concept, that most of society avoids at all costs, with a complete lack of understanding of what it is, for the most part…. You see, every person who lives in this society on Earth today is just a little insane, with some of them reaching higher levels through their own efforts to excel at what they do…. Society itself is insane, you see, and one needs to be the same in order to effectively cope….

It may surprise some ffolkes to know that they are insane; I know it surprised me when I first became aware of this fact. We all go through our lives with a certain image of ourselves, and very rarely does that image in our minds look insane. But, let me assure you, there really isn’t any visible way to be able to tell if a person is insane, as it is completely invisible, under most circumstances, as long as the person isn’t speaking, or acting in some way that provides a clue as to their inner state of mind. Even for those of us trained in recognizing its presence, through the use of observation of other defining characteristics, there is no guaranteed method for spotting someone with a mental condition, unless they give it to you up front, by acting out in some overt fashion.

Sure, there are tells, as a gambler would say…. When one eye is happily spinning in the opposite direction as the other, it’s a pretty good sign of some inner turmoil…. Pacing and mumbling to oneself, back and forth in a small area, while ignoring everything around them, can be another dead giveaway of someone who is experiencing a few extra perceptions in comparison to the rest of us. Sometimes, really bad grooming can be a sign that the person’s mind isn’t focused on how they affect others…. Staring at a wall, holding what appears to be a conversation with oneself, is generally considered to be a clear indication that not all is well in that person’s world….

But, without some overt signs such as these, you just can’t spot mental illness; it is extra hard to see it in one’s own image, since we tend to clean that up before we look at it, or try to share it. And, since EVERYONE ELSE is also insane, at least a little, it can be hard to spot, for the same reason one cow in a herd is hard to pick out. You may have heard the old saw about “one in four people are insane, so if you have three sane friends, it’s you”….. What would be more accurate to say is, “all of you are insane, but three of you are coping with it in an effective manner, and one isn’t…. “

It’s helpful to know that the overt signs one may see are indicative of the severity of the condition, i.e., the more acting out one observes, the more severe the break in the mental state. But, that isn’t always accurate, as normally sane folks, acting in the grip of strong emotion, can show the same kind of acting out, with the difference of not having it occur all the time, but only when provoked. Thus, it can be seen, it can be very difficult to judge whether a person is permanently insane, or merely temporarily out of control….

This is where I bring it all together, by referring back to the original pearl…. Coping with life can drive anyone crazy, and does, every day…. Some  cope with it better than others, and those are the people who are considered to be sane, as they can deal with reality without resorting to outlandish ways of dealing with their fears. Those who cannot find ways of coping with their fears, which arise from what reality gives us to deal with, end up acting in ways that are strange and uncomfortable for the rest of us, and are often dangerous, in a physical sense, for them, and for those around them….

In all my experience, with every kind of mental illness I saw in almost 30 years working in mental hospitals, the primary characteristic of those who got better, was that they made up their own minds to do so…. That’s it…. Simple as it may seem, deciding to give up the methods they used in the past, and make a change, was always based on a personal decision on their part, and is THE key ingredient in the regime of ideas, medicines, therapies, and treatments used to combat their illness. In other words, it took a long time, and they first had to want to change…. Without that, nothing worked…. It is a well known aphorism among mental health therapists that, “they get better IN SPITE of what we do, not because of it….”

So, if you’re getting worried about your own coping skills, just keep in mind that to remain sane, it means you have to want to do so…. But, that’s all it takes, if your are sincere, for you will do whatever else is needed, once your will power has been engaged…. That’s what people do….

“Great minds think alike, apparently so do we.” — D. Bennett

“Falsely luxurious, will not man awake?” — James Thomson (1700-1748) — The Seasons, Summer, Line 67
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As is often the case, I have no idea why this particular poem is the one that ended up here today…. I found it while searching through old Pearls for material for today, and it INSISTED on being included…. I’m a sucker for poetry, as you know, no matter whose it may be, and more so with my own…. so, here it is, such as it is…..

Time, and again….

Life, and/or love, will seldom fit
into any box we keep for them to sit.
Loose and limber, without any reason,
always somewhat out of season.

Surprise, surprise, they seem to say,
can’t help it, it’s just our way.
If only you would learn, instead of know,
maybe you’d find yourself with one to show.

Deal, just the way it is, now and here,
follow the path, on the other side of fear.
Finding the future isn’t all blood, sweat, and pain,
far, far more than mere joy we stand to gain.

The sages all say not to try, just do,
sounds as simple as putting on a shoe.
I’d say we could really go places,
if we could learn, to tie up the laces….

~~ gigoid ~~

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Well, it’s two and a half hours since I arose to begin this missive, and my brain continues to function at a level somewhere near the floor, so to speak…. Neither sugar, nor caffeine, nor jalapeños have had any significant effect on my stupor to date, and it’s getting late…. I’m going to go old-school (as if I would go somewhere else….), with the only search parameter being one of simple, basic direction, which will hopefully bring me to where I need to be….. Hmm… I guess that’s a lot to expect from a few little quotes, but, hey, I can be as unreasonable as the next guy….. These are all intended to find ME, or at least, point out where I’ve been hiding….

“I guess a cynic smells different.” — Smart Bee

“The most common lie is that which one lies to himself; lying to others is relatively an exception.” — Nietzsche

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” — Buddha

“I admire the serene assurance of those who have religious faith. It is wonderful to observe the calm confidence of a Christian with four aces.” — Mark Twain

“As to values, I was taught — and still believe — that a sense of honor is necessary to personal self-respect; that duty, recognizing an individual’s subordination to community welfare, is as important as rights; that loyalty, which is based on the trustworthiness of honorable men, is still a virtue; and that work and self-discipline are as essential to individual happiness as they are to a viable society. Indeed, I still believe in patriotism — not if it is limited to parades and flag-waving, but because worthy national goals and aspirations can be realized only through love of country and a desire to be a responsible citizen.” — Lewis F. Powell (Former Supreme Court Justice)

“For the skeptic there remains only one consolation: if there should be such a thing as superhuman law it is  administered with subhuman inefficiency.” — Eric Ambler

“There are too many books I haven’t read, too many places I haven’t seen, too many memories I haven’t kept long enough.” — Irwin Shaw
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It seems like I’m forever using this closing statement to apologize in advance for any damage I may have inadvertently caused in my thrashing about; I suppose it’s as good a place as any, and I’m too honest, and compassionate, to ignore the potential damage that my material is capable of causing….. Me father would be proud, if a trifle confused….. and, I can just hear my mother saying, “Oh, Ned!” in that exasperated tone of voice she employed so well to dish out portions of the guilt, which was her weapon and tool of choice for manipulating her offspring….

That may sound a bit critical, but, it really isn’t…. I loved my mother, deeply…. I just learned very early to recognize the ways she had to get her kids to do her bidding; those methods weren’t always what I’d call completely reasonable, but, they were what she knew, what she had been taught to know, and she was no more capable of changing those ways than she could change her gender…. I never held it against her, I just learned to deal with it without letting it affect me greatly, and without hurting her unnecessarily…. I hope….

How did I get off on THAT tangent?…. Oh, right, the closing damage assessment…. Let’s see what happened up there, shall we?….. Well, I don’t think it will cause any loss of blood, unless someone overreacts enough to bash themselves somehow… which would be THEIR problem, now, wouldn’t it? Yep, it would…. Anyone who has been here before knows enough to watch their heads, and first time visitors are covered by the “ignorance of the law” codicil, excluding them from bringing any liability suits for their own reactions…. Well, that’s what the lawyers told me, anyway…. I suppose only time will tell, as it always does….

Okay, I’m giving up trying to make any sense out of all this…. I’m outta here… See ya….

Y’all take care out there,
and May the Metaphorse be with you;
Blessed Be, dearest  Carole, Mark, and Theresa…
and everyone else, too…

When I works, I works hard.
When I sits, I sits loose.
When I thinks, I falls asleep.

Which is Why….


Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

dozer3

Remarkably obscene patterns in the sand….

Ffolkes,
Here is the second of four parts…

In 1973, at the age of 23, I attended school to study to take the state examination for a license as a Psychiatric Technician (PT). The classes were subsidized by, and took place at, Atascadero State Hospital (ASH) in Central California. College credits were given through the local J.C., Cuesta College in nearby San Luis Obispo. In conjunction with the classes, students were allowed, and encouraged, to work 20 hours per week in the hospital, as a supplement to the clinical hours required to complete the courses. So began my journey in the mental health industry, and unknown to me at the time, down the path to darkness…..

The hospital at Atascadero is a maximum security facility that houses up to 1200 individuals, who are committed to the bleak, prison-like hospital by the state courts, having been judged as being either unable to stand trial due to being unable to understand the charges, or because they were unable to cooperate in their own defense, due to mental illness. Some of these men (it is an all-male facility; women in the same legal categories were housed in another facility) were also committed by the courts as being Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity, or were those who had manifested symptoms of mental illness after being convicted of crimes and sent to prison. A very few of them were not insane, but were master manipulators, career criminals with very good lawyers who had convinced the court to send them to the hospital rather than prison. These individuals caused a great many problems, as they would manipulate their less functional peers into giving up their property, or doing their will, or  incite them to violence, just to watch the results from a safe distance, for amusement.

Working in a maximum security facility as a therapist is possibly one of the most difficult jobs man has ever created. A prison-like environment makes it difficult to create the ambiance necessary to allow the men being treated to feel safe and comfortable enough to deal with their individual problems. The danger of housing so many people with mental illness is an ever-present and overriding concern, as one of the primary characteristics of those with these types of diagnoses is a lack, or even absence, of impulse control. As a result, managing assaultive behavior becomes a necessary adjunct to treatment.

The Department of Mental Health, working with employees from all the state hospitals, developed a policy for dealing with the issue; subsequently, training in Management of Assaultive Behavior (MAB) was given to every employee who came into contact with the committed individuals. Since the facility was classed as maximum security, the training was especially important for the Hospital Police, who were responsible for maintaining the security of the physical plant, and for the therapists (psychiatrists and psychologists, nurses, psychiatric technicians, and ancillary staff such as occupational and rehabilitation therapists) who were the primary care-givers for the individuals. These teams were taught specific techniques for recognizing the warning signs of impending violent behavior, how to re-direct when possible, and methods for physically controlling individuals who were acting out in a violent manner, without causing or sustaining injury.

Most of these principles and techniques, if not all, were very similar to the Judo and Kung Fu that I had been taught, so my prior training and experience became valuable tools for me, helping me to be skillful in keeping safe both the aggressors and victims involved in the violent episodes so frequently found in settings such as ASH. I became one of the people who specialized in MAB, which necessarily meant that whenever a violent incident broke out, I was one of the first to respond, as I was adept at controlling the situation without any of the participants sustaining injury, the primary goal in such instances.

Working in such a high stress environment as a maximum security hospital was both physically and emotionally draining, and after three years at ASH I had had enough. I moved north to work at Napa State Hospital, in order to get back to being a therapist rather than a glorified cop. I obtained a position as a PT in a treatment program for adolescents at NSH in 1976. To me, it was  a wonderful change; the kids in the program, lived ina co-educational environment, and were smaller as a rule than the full-grown men I was used to; in addition, there were far fewer individuals who had already learned to resort to violence, compared to those who were housed at ASH. It was also different for being co-ed, as I had previously not worked with any women, or girls, in a therapeutic setting. Because of my experience in MAB, violence on the unit where I worked became a non-viable behavior for the adolescents, and after a few months the number of incidents that took place on the unit were greatly reduced.

After a few years at NSH, I decided to take an extended sabbatical from working as a PT, and traveled around California for a few months, until not working became a bore; I was raised to be productive, and needed to get back to work. I applied to and was hired to work in another state hospital in Camarillo, a relatively small town near Ventura in Southern California. At CSH I once again worked with adolescents, as they had a similar program, patterned after the one at NSH. My martial arts training, which I had continued all this time, once again proved to be a valuable tool, and I again became the first responder at any outbreaks of violence among the individuals under treatment.

I met my wife at Camarillo; she was another PT in the adolescent program. We worked together, began dating, fell in love, married and started our family. It was a challenging period for me; between work, parenting, maintaining my marriage, home maintenance, and the myriad of little things that are the activities of daily life in this country, I was a very busy, very stressed individual. But I loved it that way, and was happy and content for some years.

     The economy at that time changed for the worse; we were unable to keep up with our mortgage payments, and lost our house to foreclosure. We decided to move north, to the Sonoma Valley, to raise our children in a country setting, with very well-respected schools, and a much lower crime rate than the southern California area in which we had lived.

I eventually hired on back at NSH, but the adolescent program was no longer open, so I began working with adults, on an all-male unit, with a group of individuals with a wide variety of diagnoses. As the level of security at Napa was not maximum, and the degree of MAB training was not up to the higher standards at ASH, the units in the program where I worked were very dangerous, a situation which ultimately led to my downfall.

     It was about this time when I calculated that, in my career as a PT, I had worked in the most stressful environments in the entire world, outside of battlefields, constantly in danger, and my martial arts background had become not just useful, but absolutely critical. I estimated the number of violent incidents in which I had been involved, and found that over the years I had an average of one major incident (translation: a knock-down, drag-out fight, in real-time, with real opponents, who are actively engaged in trying to hurt or maim me, or someone else) per week since I had started as a PT at ASH. My calculations came to a minimum of 728 incidents. I was appalled, but also somewhat proud of this figure; in all those incidents only one of the individuals had sustained a minor injury, and I had sustained one minor injury myself. Not a bad record, all in all…2 partial failures and 726 successful outcomes.

However, the damage to my psyche that had accumulated through the years had by this time reached an unprecedented and dangerous level, and I was finding it extremely difficult to maintain the now uncertain equilibrium I had achieved. My experiences had left me burdened with an indelible, hidden wound in my soul, in my very center. The experiences to which I’d been exposed eventually culminated in one specific incident that brought all of my pent-up stress to the surface, and affected me so deeply that I still feel the effects today……I became, quite literally, one of the “walking wounded”, a condition with which my generation, due to the Vietnam War, had become all too familiar. It was a single incident, that happened one night in 1984, and to this day I have never fully recovered…..

To be continued…..


Sometimes I sits and thinks,
and sometimes
I just sits.

gigoid

Dozer

Kowabunga!