Other Parts of this narrative will eventually find their way into this blog.
I remember looking at the Hong Kong restaurant on 18th Ave from the back window of an office building on Willamette St. I built the best forts in that little room. The smell of the pile of vinyl bean bags drifting thru the air. I could peak out of the crack in the door and see my mother sitting across from another man talking. It was weekly and it always felt long. Off course most things felt long at 5 years of age. I don’t remember everything but I do remember the things that happened over and over again. This was one of those things.
So were the weekly visits to Lane County Mental Health on Garden Ave, usually on Wednesdays.
Dunkin Donuts was down the street and I could get a cherry filled mountain of goodness if I sat still outside the group room. The other people, all adults, filling the air with a steady stream of cigarette smoke as they awaited their appointments, or whatever it was that they were there for. It was super great when they put in a soda machine and I got a bottle of Sunkist for 25 cents.
I could see thru the rear view mirror of the truck as my father struggled to get my mother back in the cab. We were in the middle of some state driving home from Yellowstone Park. There was a lot of loud talk and a physical struggle. A police officer stopped to see if help was needed, all I remember is that things got calmer. I remember being afraid sitting in the middle of the cab as we drove straight thru from Yellowstone to Veneta. I slept. My Father told me years later that he was afraid that my mother’s psychotic and paranoid state at the time would have caused her to be hospitalized far from our home. He drove straight thru to get her to help in Eugene near where we lived. He also told me that my mother’s counselor told her to quit taking her medicine and take a vacation. We went to Yellowstone.
All though I did not really know, years later I learned that my mother had gone for eight full hospitalizations from 1970 to 1981. I remember my father taking me to work. My father said that “she could not think rationally”. I used to sit in my dad’s truck waiting for him as he went into visit her at Fairview hospital in Salem, always with a stern warning not to unlock the doors or get out of the truck. I played like the truck was a spaceship and fell asleep. Ice cream was to follow.
This was the life that I knew as a young child. There is so much more both very beautiful and very tough thru those years and beyond. It is one story in thousands that should be told to let people know that they are not alone.
When I was starting out working as a therapist in a local agency,
I remember a person telling me that he was glad that “he didn’t need that kind of help”…
I guess I was glad too.
The statement highlights the stigma that asking for help has, especially help that involves our emotions, our minds, or our spirits. My mother was a quiet and vibrant person. My mother was able to facilitate life in the midst of the difficulties of mental illness (anxiety, depression, paranoia, and delusions). She did this with professional support (such as it was in the time), several close friends, the commitment of my father, and with her faith in Christ.
This is my call and my encouragement for those who are helping, those who are struggling, or those that are watching someone they love struggle.
It is time to set aside the stigma and the underlying fear that you may have and get or give support. If you are a helper then accept the help and support that you will need to assist others to health. If you are struggling with issues realted to mental health click below for resources.
https://www.mentalhealth.gov/get-help/immediate-help
I read that there is as much as 40% drop out rate for those working in the mental health field each year. I am not sure if that statistic is entirely true, but even if it was 30%, it underscores the incredible challenge of the field. If you are going alone, stop being a lone ranger. Do the health inspiring things that you know you need to renew!
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/151715081174805807/
Gene is Husband to the amazing Daleasha, Father to the amazing Daisy, Nate, and Silas, lover of Christ, licensed counselor, ordained pastor, writer, and artist. Gene is originally from Veneta, Oregon and currently resides in Washougal, Washington. As Therapist in both local Eugene agencies, as well as private practice for 15 years, and as a Lead Pastor in Springfield Oregon for 5 years ( along with many other church based ministry roles thru the years) Gene has a heart for those that are both in the spiritual and mental healing professions. As an artist Gene focuses on sculpture and functional art items that take up space and have to be noticed.
Gene is Husband to the amazing Daleasha, Father to the amazing Daisy, Nate, and Silas, lover of Christ, licensed counselor, ordained pastor, writer, and artist. Gene is originally from Veneta, Oregon and currently resides in Washougal, Washington. As Therapist in both local Eugene agencies, as well as private practice for 15 years, and as a Lead Pastor in Springfield Oregon for 5 years ( along with many other church based ministry roles thru the years) Gene has a heart for those that are both in the spiritual and mental healing professions. As an artist Gene focuses on sculpture and functional art items that take up space and have to be noticed.
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