This Week Sucks Because....(drumroll please)

1. I have only completed 2 out of 9 assessments that are due shortly (usually we only have 1 a week)
2. AM is away so I'm lonely and looking after kiddo by myself
3. I've got a vicious head cold
4. It's cold outside (there was snow yesterday)
5. I haven't written any of my notes for this week yet, and still have some from last week to input
6. I can't even say TGIF because I am going to have to work from home this weekend to catch up
7. I also have to survive taking a car load of obnoxious noisy excited kids to the Santa Claus parade

*whine*bitch*moan*complain*

Thank you, internet, for being there for me.

Monday, Monday

Last night was nice and cool, so I decided to sleep with the windows open.  Somewhere around midnight (waaay past my bedtime) I was roused from my slumber by a man across the street yelling and shouting.  I went to the window to check it out.  A resident of the low-rise on the corner was speaking to him from his balcony, and the man was shouting up to him from the parking lot.  Since he seemed to be handling it, I went back to bed. 

At least 20 minutes later, the man was still shouting and it seemed my neighbour had given up and was no longer trying to deal with him.  He seemed very distressed, and as I moved back to the window, I could better over hear what he was saying - making declarations of love, crying out to God, cursing and threatening seemed to be the dominant themes.  At this point I decided he was more than likely psychotic, or at least in some kind of crisis, and that I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until I had done something. 

Deciding it was not exactly a good plan to dash outside in my pj's and try to counsel this stranger, I got on the computer to look up a local mental health crisis number (I live outside my work area, so I am not as familiar with resources in my own neighbourhood).  By the time I got it and went back to the window to try to see him better, he was gone.  I hoped he was safe.

There seemed nothing better to do than go back to bed and try to sleep.  Unfortunately, my furry nocturnal neighbours decided we hadn't had enough excitement in the neighbourhood for one night, and decided to start fighting over my organics recyling bin.  At least, I think that's what they were doing.  Have you ever heard racoons fight?  It sounds like a cross between a dog fight, cats in heat and an 18-wheeler running over somebody's toes. 

Needless to say, I'm feeling less than lively this Monday morning.  How is the start of your week going?

Reading Material

I’ve never really done much reading about ‘mental health’. Truth be told, its not the field that I was trained in, and I find most publications by professionals to be boring, jargon-laced jibberish.

That said, I do find it insightful to check out books by consumers and survivors of the mental health system.

One of my favourites is local hero Pat Capponi, who wrote Upstairs in the Crazy House among others, and has also begun publishing a series of fictional detective mysteries set in a mental health group home.

I’ve just started reading a book called Voluntary Madness which a friend recommended to me.

So far it’s very engaging, and causing my mind to flip-flop between the consumer and service provider perspectives. My mind is running so quickly through the things I always question about the “mental health system”. Why do we continue to rely so heavily on medications? Are “diagnoses” really to be trusted? Has deinstitutionalization just dumped a bunch of people out on the street without sufficient supports and resources? What is “crazy” anyway, and who gets to decide?

Maybe I’ll attempt a bit of a book review when I’ve finished it.

Don't jump! Good boy!

So sometime last week AM and I were out taking Dogface for a walk. He’s about 9 months old now and “maturing” but not fixed (yet) so he is sometimes aggressive with other dogs. We’re trying to better socialize him, so when we take him out we are always on the lookout for other dogs, so we can figure out the best course of action before he freaks out (there is a relevant, mental health part to this story. Trust me, I’m getting there).

We head down a neighbourhood street and hear another dog barking from somewhere. It’s pretty loud, but we can’t see where it’s coming from. All of a sudden, AM realizes there is a dog – some kind of basset hound or beagle maybe – ON THE ROOF of the house! An upstairs window was open, and the poor dog was barking its head off from the roof above the front porch. We look at each other, and I decide I should go knock on the door to let someone know that their dog got out on the roof.
As I approach the house, I see that there is a young adult couple sitting on the front steps.

“Ah, do you know that your dog is out on the roof?”
Nodding and laughing

“Is that okay? Does he go out there on his own?”
Yeah, wave and nod at me again. Still laughing. (at me? Because I don’t understand dogs natural affinity for heights, or in confusion wondering what this strange woman is talking about?)

“Aren’t you afraid that he will fall off?”
It’s okay, they say.

I left so confused. Now tell me where the mental health concern lies. Is the dog suicidal and/or trying to make some kind of threat to the other neighbourhood canines, or do these people need their heads checked?

The good news is, Dogface never noticed this roof dweller, saving us from at least one tricky doggie-social-interaction lesson.

Maybe I'm Not Such a Bad Influence

My six year old (blessedly) has learned to get up on her own on weekends. I can usually count on her entertaining herself for an hour or two before I need to get out of bed. So this Saturday when I awoke particularly late to a quiet house, I knew she must be really engrossed in something. My first thought was “what kind of mess am I going to walk into downstairs?”

I arrive in the living room to see that she has been setting up a “store”. She was very thoughtful and attentive to detail, setting up displays, keeping a little broom and dustpan for cleanup, making a sign for the store (“Baby Fiatt” which apparently is her creative spelling for “Baby Fit” as it was all her baby doll stuff) and getting out her toy cash register.

Next to the register, she had a little bowl to which she had taped a sign (I’ll spare you more creative spelling): Please help the homeless people.

When my sister came over later with my baby nephew, she was made to “shop” the store, and instructed to put her “change” in the bowl.

My Work is Following Me Home

At the grocery store last night.

-a rather “unkempt” and “disheveled” looking man cut me off with his grocery cart like he was in the last sprint of a 100m run

-an extremely slow moving young woman was packing up groceries at the end of the checkout line we were in. She was taking her time, removing items from the packaging before placing them in her bag. She was buying a tonne of baby products including diapers and about 10 sippy cups. She was taking care to fold and gently stack the cardboard boxes she removed from her items. Her purse appeared to be a child’s pink backpack.

We tried our best to pack our own groceries next to her. She started muttering and complaining about how the cashier was throwing other peoples things on her “stuff” and mixing it up. AM (love of my life and partner) suggested to her that perhaps if she moved somewhere else, it wouldn’t be a problem. The cashier then started complaining to ME how this woman had been there for 20 minutes, in the way of 3 previous customers. I tried gently suggesting to the cashier that she or someone who works at the store should help this young woman move along. It became clear this cashier was intimidated by the woman’s strange behaviour, and wanted nothing to do with it. I moved then and asked the woman if I could help her move her things, so they didn’t get “mixed up” but she refused. We tried to get out of the way as quickly as possible.

As we walked away, I began ranting (quietly) to AM about how the store should help her move to another area to pack her things instead of allowing everybody involved to become frustrated, as this woman was clearly confused and unwell and how I hoped what ever baby she was buying things for was well taken care of. I was quickly reminded by A that “not everyone can be a social worker” and that really nothing had come of the situation. He’s got a point.

-to top it all off, a woman (I swear) dressed as Cruella DeVille and smoking a long cigarette in a holder dashed in front of my car with her shopping cart right as the light turned green for me to leave the parking lot. I nearly had a heart attack, and then felt sorry for whatever fuzzy creature died to make the ridiculous and enormous hat she was wearing that must have been blocking her view of the “don’t walk” sign!