Tag: mental health

Day in the Life

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Let me start this by clearly stating that I appreciate all of the hard-working delivery folks. Thank you–especially in this time of need when many people cannot (or should not) be out shopping! I went to the post office today to pick up a package. This is a grueling affair on a normal day in the Bronx, NYC. Today, it is in the 80’s, humid as a jungle between rain showers and in the middle of a pandemic. 

Let me show you an example of social distance in the regular world: 

I_ I _ I _ I _ I _. 

Then, there is social distancing in the Bronx:

LLLLL. 

In addition to the sweaty reality of standing in line inside the balmy, recycled air of a government office, a drunk schizophrenic stands leaning on the counter near the front of the line. He mumbles gibberish, carrying on a conversation with an unseen person. That would be absolutely fine, usually–this is the inner city and homelessness and mental health are historically abominable. The thing that makes me nervous is the guy has a sudden crescendo in his garbled speech, stands upright (albeit in a light sway from the empty 40 oz. he left at the door) and reaches down to his right belt loop to his knife holster. He pulls the knife out, fisted in a hand that bounces up and down in the air, threatening his unseen acquaintance. That invisible asshole must have said something mean. 

I am at the front of the line and stand still, watching for signs if he will come at us. The line of folks behind me flattens against the wall. Dumbasses–don’t make sudden movements in front of a mad dog! Knife-guy has crazy eyes behind his blade when he looks in our direction, but I realize that he may not really register any of us standing there. The post office workers raise a tired eye at him behind their thick plexiglass and carry on their business. I stay still and observe, deciding that, if he lunges, I am gonna drop to a crouch and either punch him in the nards or do a badass low roundhouse kick and take his feet out from under him then tie him up with my headphone wires. The first would be better as I am out of shape and would most likely pull my back out attempting a spin kick, land on my face and get stabbed in my spine. 

Crazy eyes put the knife away again, continuing his unintelligible conversation. Then, he wobbles toward the end of the line with 8 pairs of eyes crawling on his movement. He uses his hands to drum an arrhythmic beat on the wall as he heads to the back corner of the room behind the last person. He puts an elbow on the back wall and leans against it, palm against the side of his face, still muttering away. 

Meanwhile, I approach the register to retrieve the package that they refuse to deliver to my doorstep (the whole point of home delivery). I appreciate it that they don’t want my stuff to be stolen if left outside the apartment building, but I have consented for them to leave my packages at the door and accept the risk. I have told them this multiple times and they promise that the delivery guy won’t do it again. Mmm-hmm. I know for a fact that they don’t even ring the bell as I am waiting for the package at home ALL DAY. I got the alert that it was “delivered” but the doorbell never buzzes. Then, magically, a “missed delivery, come get your shit” sticky note somehow appears on the entrance door of the apartment. It is coffee and vitamins, for goodness sake, hardly the Hope Diamond. I should make a complaint again, but I hate doing that. If I do, I now have the proper fodder: Post office trips not only eat my time and soul, but apparently put me at risk of being stabbed.

It could happen anywhere! Real-life nursing school homework from a colleague, 2020.

It Will Get Better (orignal post April 29, 2020)

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It generally takes some filtering to decide what goes up on the blog. Out of goofy rants and stories, there is also an undertone of genuine curiosity for life with its dangling thread of darkness wafting in irregular spurts in the breeze that my hand attempts to grasp along its voyage. That thread is tied tight to that poofy balloon of All That Goes On In The World Up There, which threatens to, one day, lift us away above it all. Until it does, it floats on across the landscape–at a critical mass going no lower or higher–just, moving forward. Curiosity does not always communicate into correctness. It is part of something innocent and wide-eyed. There remain posts when the mind is cut clean and blah-blah-bleeds to the page like the top of the head coming off of Canadian South Park Characters when they talk. 

Then, there are the timid that come vigilant to the spot where they think the thread will travel with best guesses and lots of calculations and numbers. They lie down and wait for it’s tail to wisp over the face. If it does, then there is instant understanding of where to go to get the next clue. The chase commences when the wind blows alternative directions. We cannot all run around grasping. Nor can all of us lie down to be the backs upon which the saved shall tread. Most of us are just moving forward just like that balloon, day to day, patching a path in front of us one step at a time without realizing from what material of the path is made.

An old colleague died by suicide and it made me pause. In this world, and in healthcare, we seem to just go from one task to the other, doing the best we can with often no thanks and often many criticisms. We act tough, but are only human ourselves. We need to remember that, though our job is to help people, that we need help from each other, too. There is help out there. If you need it, don’t be selfish–reach out for it–to family, friends or even strangers. You can get through it.

UPDATE March 31, 2023: Now the U.S. Suicide & Crisis Lifeline https://988lifeline.org made it easy to connect by allowing emergency access by dialing 9-8-8 instead of dialing the full number! Click the links above or below to access help or call 9-8-8 to get connected with services.

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