In my work, I meet people who have gone through and are going through some of the worst events of their lives. I work with people who have been diagnosed with severe and persistent mental illness. My hope is that our program can help them understand their illness, work through it, and learn ways to live with it that will allow them some quality of life. It's harder than it sounds.
No one wants to hear they have a mental illness. The stigma that is placed on those two words - mental illness - is enormous. So much so that, often, their own families would rather not have anything to do with them because of it. Overwhelmingly, the people I work with have lived through horrible trauma in their lives as well. They are broken. Almost daily, I speak to good people who cannot see their own worth because they have lived through years of other people telling them they are worth nothing and will never be worth anything. It's very sad.
We all have incidents in our lives that cause us trauma. We are confronted with abuse, sometimes neglect, and deal with the deaths of loved ones that take us by surprise and knock us down. Most of us have learned ways to deal with these incidents and we get on with our lives. Some people, those who have an underlying mental health diagnosis, have an extremely hard time moving past those incidents. And sometimes those events of trauma, abuse and neglect are so severe that it stops them in their tracks.
The stories I could tell would make you cry. But, I cannot dwell in the sadness of their situations. I have to be the one to find that one tiny moment of hope and spotlight it so they can see it. When it works, it's magical. To show someone that they can achieve their goals in spite of their illness is really a miracle. To see someones happiness when they realize they can do it, that's amazing. And it's why I do what I do.
But, I'm not magical or a miracle worker. I'm just a person who can listen and ask questions and guide them as best I can. Sometimes, it's just the listening part that is the most important. Because, you see, like all of us, the people I work with have stories to tell. Life stories that I learn from every day. They give me more hope than I could ever give them. It's easy to pass these people by. They act weird. They might look strange. They may talk to themselves or someone who isn't really there. They might even smell bad. They are the ones who make us uncomfortable when we're riding the bus or in line at a bank or McDonald's. They are the ones we tell our kids to avoid. That's the saddest part because, without a doubt, they are people who could teach us all a lesson.
If you ever get the chance to volunteer at a shelter or a soup kitchen I highly recommend it. You will learn more about yourself and open your heart to so many good people that you will feel full. Full of hope. Full of honest love. Full of humanity.
Showing posts with label human services. Show all posts
Showing posts with label human services. Show all posts
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Thursday, January 28, 2010
A triumph....
Another memory...this one from 2000....
The first time I ever met Karen I was working as a representative payee. She was brought to me by her case manager who found out that Karen had tried to pay her $400 per month rent with four ten dollar bills. That was when she realized that Karen did not understand money or have any money management skills.
Karen came quietly into the office, shook my hand when we were introduced and then starting yelling, "I DON'T NEED NO FUCKING PAYEE!!" at the top of her lungs. It took some smooth talk to get her to calm down. Although the first few months were extremely rocky she seemed to eventually come around to the idea. Or so I thought. Karen, who was diagnosed with a developmental disability and moderate mental retardation, always had a series of shady characters in her life. Each time she would meet one of them, they would convince her that she could handle her own money and she would come into my office, angry and belligerent, demanding to be her own payee. I finally reached a point where I told her that since the Social Security Administration had appointed me as her payee, they were the only ones who could change it and she should contact their office to do so. Karen took character after character into the Social Security offices trying to get them named as her payee. Each one was shot down for a variety of reasons - no job, no home, outstanding warrants for their arrest. Karen finally gave up and resigned herself to working with me.
Not too much later, I was hired as a case manager and all case management services were moved to the agency I worked for. Lo and behold, Karen was on my case load. By this time, she had come to realize I was on her side and was looking out for her best interests. She would come to me when she was having any problems and felt safe to talk to me about anything.
Karen's one true goal in life was to get a job. She wanted desperately to work in the janitorial or laundry fields. Her job seeking skills left something to be desired. I made a referral to a local sheltered work shop in the hopes she would be able to learn some of these skills. It was a mistake. Karen did not understand how learning to do piece work, earning only pennies per piece, was going to help her get a job anywhere. (Come to think of it, she was right!) She went back and forth, in and out of the workshop for months until she finally gave it up altogether. I felt bad about it but at that time it was our only resource. I went with her to the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation hoping there might be something out there that I had overlooked. Karen was very excited about the appointment but we were both sorely disappointed when, after answering endless questions, we were referred back to the local workshop again.
Our next tactic for jobs was to apply for them independently. I knew this was a long shot. But Karen religiously brought in applications week after week and wee meticulously filled in what information we could. The section asking for past work experience always stumped us because there just wasn't any! Of course, none of these jobs panned out.
It was a full two years later that the State government came up with a new program to help disabled individuals find and keep a job. Again, another long shot but we had tried everything else so why not this? An appointment was set up and Karen met with the people from the new program. At first she was hesitant. But after several meetings and extra patience, Karen was sent out to shadow at a few different locations. She did wonderfully! It was exactly what she needed to get her going. She received her first paycheck just before Christmas that year and I've never seen anyone happier.
Karen is the poorest person I have ever known. She lives on a very limited income, has no real possessions to speak of and is very easily taken advantage of by almost everyone she's ever tried to befriend, and yet she is the most determined person I know. Her deficits far outweigh her capabilities but she never gives up. She has visualized how she thinks her life should be and I have no doubt that she will do everything she can to make it so.
I am no longer her case manager but she comes to the office one each week and asks to speak to me. She tells me how she's doing and what's new in her life. The woman who once would only swear at me now trusts me and I enjoy hearing from her. If a weeks goes by and I don't hear from her I know something is wrong and I alert her case manager. Everyone should be so lucky to know someone like Karen.
(NOTE: UPDATE: Since I wrote this a lot has happened in Karen's life. She is no longer in need of case management. She's moved to Milwaukee where she has a nice apartment and a new job. I ran into her a few months ago when she came to Kenosha to visit a friend. She updated me on her life and all that's happened and it's all been very, very good. She is in her 50s now and was just diagnosed with a significant hearing loss which she most likely had her whole life but never got any adequate testing. She now has hearing aids and her ability to understand what's being said and to communicate clearly has increased and is impressive. It's likely that she was misdiagnosed as mentally retarded when she was a child because, unfortunately, if a hearing loss goes undiagnosed from an early age the child is often put into Special Ed classes and labelled for the rest of their lives. Karen is a survivor of so many things - poverty, a shoddy medical system, lack of proper insurance, abuse, and neglect - and yet she is triumphant in attaining those common things we often take for granted. Karen's spirit and will to better herself against all odds inspires me.)
The first time I ever met Karen I was working as a representative payee. She was brought to me by her case manager who found out that Karen had tried to pay her $400 per month rent with four ten dollar bills. That was when she realized that Karen did not understand money or have any money management skills.
Karen came quietly into the office, shook my hand when we were introduced and then starting yelling, "I DON'T NEED NO FUCKING PAYEE!!" at the top of her lungs. It took some smooth talk to get her to calm down. Although the first few months were extremely rocky she seemed to eventually come around to the idea. Or so I thought. Karen, who was diagnosed with a developmental disability and moderate mental retardation, always had a series of shady characters in her life. Each time she would meet one of them, they would convince her that she could handle her own money and she would come into my office, angry and belligerent, demanding to be her own payee. I finally reached a point where I told her that since the Social Security Administration had appointed me as her payee, they were the only ones who could change it and she should contact their office to do so. Karen took character after character into the Social Security offices trying to get them named as her payee. Each one was shot down for a variety of reasons - no job, no home, outstanding warrants for their arrest. Karen finally gave up and resigned herself to working with me.
Not too much later, I was hired as a case manager and all case management services were moved to the agency I worked for. Lo and behold, Karen was on my case load. By this time, she had come to realize I was on her side and was looking out for her best interests. She would come to me when she was having any problems and felt safe to talk to me about anything.
Karen's one true goal in life was to get a job. She wanted desperately to work in the janitorial or laundry fields. Her job seeking skills left something to be desired. I made a referral to a local sheltered work shop in the hopes she would be able to learn some of these skills. It was a mistake. Karen did not understand how learning to do piece work, earning only pennies per piece, was going to help her get a job anywhere. (Come to think of it, she was right!) She went back and forth, in and out of the workshop for months until she finally gave it up altogether. I felt bad about it but at that time it was our only resource. I went with her to the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation hoping there might be something out there that I had overlooked. Karen was very excited about the appointment but we were both sorely disappointed when, after answering endless questions, we were referred back to the local workshop again.
Our next tactic for jobs was to apply for them independently. I knew this was a long shot. But Karen religiously brought in applications week after week and wee meticulously filled in what information we could. The section asking for past work experience always stumped us because there just wasn't any! Of course, none of these jobs panned out.
It was a full two years later that the State government came up with a new program to help disabled individuals find and keep a job. Again, another long shot but we had tried everything else so why not this? An appointment was set up and Karen met with the people from the new program. At first she was hesitant. But after several meetings and extra patience, Karen was sent out to shadow at a few different locations. She did wonderfully! It was exactly what she needed to get her going. She received her first paycheck just before Christmas that year and I've never seen anyone happier.
Karen is the poorest person I have ever known. She lives on a very limited income, has no real possessions to speak of and is very easily taken advantage of by almost everyone she's ever tried to befriend, and yet she is the most determined person I know. Her deficits far outweigh her capabilities but she never gives up. She has visualized how she thinks her life should be and I have no doubt that she will do everything she can to make it so.
I am no longer her case manager but she comes to the office one each week and asks to speak to me. She tells me how she's doing and what's new in her life. The woman who once would only swear at me now trusts me and I enjoy hearing from her. If a weeks goes by and I don't hear from her I know something is wrong and I alert her case manager. Everyone should be so lucky to know someone like Karen.
(NOTE: UPDATE: Since I wrote this a lot has happened in Karen's life. She is no longer in need of case management. She's moved to Milwaukee where she has a nice apartment and a new job. I ran into her a few months ago when she came to Kenosha to visit a friend. She updated me on her life and all that's happened and it's all been very, very good. She is in her 50s now and was just diagnosed with a significant hearing loss which she most likely had her whole life but never got any adequate testing. She now has hearing aids and her ability to understand what's being said and to communicate clearly has increased and is impressive. It's likely that she was misdiagnosed as mentally retarded when she was a child because, unfortunately, if a hearing loss goes undiagnosed from an early age the child is often put into Special Ed classes and labelled for the rest of their lives. Karen is a survivor of so many things - poverty, a shoddy medical system, lack of proper insurance, abuse, and neglect - and yet she is triumphant in attaining those common things we often take for granted. Karen's spirit and will to better herself against all odds inspires me.)
Monday, March 23, 2009
Creating my own little United Nations...
As is always the case in troubled economic times, one area of employment that never seems to have a downside and, in fact, often gets better is Human Services. Recently, I've had to hire a number of new case managers and it was pointed out to me today that I seem to be creating my own version of the United Nations.
First, it started with Therese. She's originally from Sweden. The irony of me hiring someone from Sweden was quickly spotlighted because my staff knows I'm in a relationship with a guy from Sweden. Next came Mary from Puerto Rico. Okay, not technically a foreign country but close enough. The cool thing about having Mary on staff is that we serve many people who don't speak English and this is the first time we haven't had to struggle to gain some understanding because she is an excellent translator. After Mary came Mahmoud from Africa. Now he decided not to take the job but it was about the time I interviewed him that people were saying he was a shoe in because he wasn't from the US! Today I gave the green light to hire Anne who is from Ireland. She has a brogue so thick you can cut it with a knife!
Seriously, I'm not trying to only hire people from other countries. It's just that compared to the qualified applicants from the US, these folks were head and shoulders above in knowledge and experience. Another interesting thing is that just a few years ago this field was overwhelmingly an area dominated by women. That is partly due to the fact that Human Services, especially in a not for profit sector, pays very little compared to other jobs with equal responsibilities. Men, generally, are the bread winners (yes, I know...this is an archaic yet still applicable notion in most parts of our society) and they couldn't support a family on what a social worker makes. The good news is that now it seems there is a more even playing field salary wise in this area so I am able to hire more men. Why is this important you might ask? Because there are some people who relate better to a male perspective and having a good mix of workers - male and female - means we can be more effective in working with our clients.
So if I haven't done anything else of note on my job what I have done is create a care management unit that is diversified. We bring a variety of life experiences to our work and we can relate to many, many more people just based on who we are. Honestly, I'm a little bit proud of that!
First, it started with Therese. She's originally from Sweden. The irony of me hiring someone from Sweden was quickly spotlighted because my staff knows I'm in a relationship with a guy from Sweden. Next came Mary from Puerto Rico. Okay, not technically a foreign country but close enough. The cool thing about having Mary on staff is that we serve many people who don't speak English and this is the first time we haven't had to struggle to gain some understanding because she is an excellent translator. After Mary came Mahmoud from Africa. Now he decided not to take the job but it was about the time I interviewed him that people were saying he was a shoe in because he wasn't from the US! Today I gave the green light to hire Anne who is from Ireland. She has a brogue so thick you can cut it with a knife!
Seriously, I'm not trying to only hire people from other countries. It's just that compared to the qualified applicants from the US, these folks were head and shoulders above in knowledge and experience. Another interesting thing is that just a few years ago this field was overwhelmingly an area dominated by women. That is partly due to the fact that Human Services, especially in a not for profit sector, pays very little compared to other jobs with equal responsibilities. Men, generally, are the bread winners (yes, I know...this is an archaic yet still applicable notion in most parts of our society) and they couldn't support a family on what a social worker makes. The good news is that now it seems there is a more even playing field salary wise in this area so I am able to hire more men. Why is this important you might ask? Because there are some people who relate better to a male perspective and having a good mix of workers - male and female - means we can be more effective in working with our clients.
So if I haven't done anything else of note on my job what I have done is create a care management unit that is diversified. We bring a variety of life experiences to our work and we can relate to many, many more people just based on who we are. Honestly, I'm a little bit proud of that!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Inside A Darkened Mind
SCHIZOPHRENIA
noun
"any of several psychotic disorders characterized by distortions of reality and disturbances of thought and language and withdrawal from social contact"
I work for a not-for-profit human service agency and in the course of my work day I meet and talk to people with many personal roadblocks - things that I can't imagine having to live with on a daily basis. One of the people I have met is a woman in her mid-40's or early 50's named Kathy. She has schizophrenia and, though she consistently takes the prescribed medication, her illness is such that it barely responds. I've known her for 12 years and she never gets any better. Every morning when I arrive to work she is there waiting for the nurse to arrive to get her morning meds. She waits for over two hours every morning. She sits at the side of our building rocking back and forth and talking to the voices only she can hear. Her personal hygiene is horrible. She's dirty and has a pronounced body odor though she is fully capable of showering and taking care of herself. Her illness makes her afraid of water. I speak to her every day and each time I am struck with how "normal" she can sound. I also see other people walk past her either ignoring her or looking at her with disgust.
Kathy started out the same way we all did. A normal birth to normal parents. Somewhere in her early life, her brain become cross wired. She started hearing voices telling her to do things that she normally wouldn't which led to her incarceration and several years in prison. The thing that strikes me when I talk to her is that she is always positive. She is happy when she sees me. She takes joy in what she might be doing on any given day - shopping, watching a movie, seeing a friend. She delights in those same things we all find happiness in. It's evident when I speak to her that she is struggling to hear me over what is going on in her head. She has taught herself to shut them out if someone in the real world is speaking to her. Despite her appearance and blatant symptoms, she is nice and likable person.
It bothers me that people don't know this about her, that there are co-workers at the agency that complain that she is there every morning. Her presence disturbs them. I think I know why. I think it's because that we all feel, somewhere inside, that Kathy could be any one of us. Then we would be that person, rocking back and forth, talking to inner demons, who gets ignored and spat upon. To me, Kathy is the face of who we all could be given other circumstances. She scares us. That in itself makes us uncomfortable because we know that we should respond to her in a more decent humane way. She makes us see ourselves and we don't like what we see.
noun
"any of several psychotic disorders characterized by distortions of reality and disturbances of thought and language and withdrawal from social contact"
I work for a not-for-profit human service agency and in the course of my work day I meet and talk to people with many personal roadblocks - things that I can't imagine having to live with on a daily basis. One of the people I have met is a woman in her mid-40's or early 50's named Kathy. She has schizophrenia and, though she consistently takes the prescribed medication, her illness is such that it barely responds. I've known her for 12 years and she never gets any better. Every morning when I arrive to work she is there waiting for the nurse to arrive to get her morning meds. She waits for over two hours every morning. She sits at the side of our building rocking back and forth and talking to the voices only she can hear. Her personal hygiene is horrible. She's dirty and has a pronounced body odor though she is fully capable of showering and taking care of herself. Her illness makes her afraid of water. I speak to her every day and each time I am struck with how "normal" she can sound. I also see other people walk past her either ignoring her or looking at her with disgust.
Kathy started out the same way we all did. A normal birth to normal parents. Somewhere in her early life, her brain become cross wired. She started hearing voices telling her to do things that she normally wouldn't which led to her incarceration and several years in prison. The thing that strikes me when I talk to her is that she is always positive. She is happy when she sees me. She takes joy in what she might be doing on any given day - shopping, watching a movie, seeing a friend. She delights in those same things we all find happiness in. It's evident when I speak to her that she is struggling to hear me over what is going on in her head. She has taught herself to shut them out if someone in the real world is speaking to her. Despite her appearance and blatant symptoms, she is nice and likable person.
It bothers me that people don't know this about her, that there are co-workers at the agency that complain that she is there every morning. Her presence disturbs them. I think I know why. I think it's because that we all feel, somewhere inside, that Kathy could be any one of us. Then we would be that person, rocking back and forth, talking to inner demons, who gets ignored and spat upon. To me, Kathy is the face of who we all could be given other circumstances. She scares us. That in itself makes us uncomfortable because we know that we should respond to her in a more decent humane way. She makes us see ourselves and we don't like what we see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)