All posts tagged vulnerability
I'm not always wearing my full habit...
Of wilderness, two-by-fours, and the gospel
I’ve noticed a few things that seem to keenly affect me. One is how I feel when I need some form of being taken care of, and the person I ask for it and/or expect it from doesn’t come through. I realize that people can’t read my mind, so it takes me a little time to sort out my feelings in the latter case. Either way, though, I feel frustrated and betrayed. I do a lot of taking care of people. I enjoy it, and it blesses me. But everybody needs to be taken care of, at some point, even the caretakers.
Another is when I can tell I’ve disappointed somebody, let somebody down. It’s worst, of course, when that somebody is a person I really care about or a person I want to think well of me; I feel like the world’s biggest heel. The problem with this one is that I don’t always understand that I’ve disappointed someone until they are very clear about this. I can be good at reading people, and I can also be totally oblivious.
There’s something about the period between about 2:30 and 4:30 am. If there were a time of day that is the desert wilderness — as opposed to the times of day that are growing fields or orchards ready for harvest — then it would fall in that range of hours. The neighborhood is quiet. The home is silent, holding only those little creaks and clicks and hums that the house makes. You’re too tired to do anything, and too awake to stay in bed and sleep. These wilderness hours, they are the time of existential crisis, the time when we are stripped bare, vulnerable to thoughts, ideas, and feelings of the worst kind.
When I lie awake during these hours, I become aware of all the people I’ve let down ever, and I feel like a poop. Not just any poop, but the poop of the creatures that eat poop: the lowest of the low. And I fear that nobody is really taking care of me, not as me; everyone’s just doing their own thing, and when it happens to help me, well, then good for me. Or maybe I come to the stunning realization that they only take care of me because they feel sorry for me, this worthless poop. I begin to wonder if I’m wrong about everything and everybody. Is love actually real? Is it only really self-interest after all? And if love mightn’t be real, then family doesn’t matter and friendship doesn’t matter, and we’re all just terribly and terrifyingly alone. And worst of all, if all of this is true, then what does it say about God? Is God real, or have we just made God up? Is everything just hopeless and pointless, and then we disappear into oblivion?
Wilderness sucks. There’s no other way to say it. When we’re in the times or places or life-situations of desert wilderness, it just sucks. Thankfully, God’s been pretty handy with the Great Cosmic Two-by-Four (aka, “Clue-by-Four”), with which God can whack me upside the head when I start circling the drain with these thoughts. It doesn’t always take a whack upside the head; sometimes it’s more of a poke with the Little Cosmic Twig or even a whisper from the Cosmic Rustling Leaves.
And that’s the Good News: even in the driest desert, in the darkest night, the furthest reaches of the wilderness, God is there. Nothing can separate us from God’s love. Not us, not any other person, not any substance, not any accident of birth or illness or anything else, not any being that has ever been created: nothing whatsoever can separate us from God’s love.
Not even letting God down.
Healing the sick: UR DOIN IT WRONG
Eastern State Hospital’s downsizing last year locked out dozens of fragile behavioral health patients in need of care, according to a new report.
The James City County inpatient behavioral health facility declined to admit 85 patients because it was in the process of downsizing, according to the report by the Office of Inspector General for Behavioral Health and Development Services.
“The behavioral health system cannot credibly claim to be a person-centered system of care, driven by the principles of recovery, if we allow the most fragile of a vulnerable population to receive anything less than the best, most clinically appropriate, treatment available,” the report said.
Undercover Nun is not pleased about this. Basically, Virginia is downsizing its mental hospitals to promote community behavioral health services, which aren’t ready to handle those patients yet. Meanwhile, persons facing an immediate acute mental health crisis are being turned away. I simply do not understand how we can do this to our brothers and sisters who are in such a vulnerable place.
The patients shut out of Eastern State weren’t a danger to society, Hall said. But in many cases, their conditions worsened as they cycled in and out of short-term stays at private behavioral health centers in Hampton and Chesapeake.
“Like a revolving door, they would come out and they would go back in. That was a tremendous waste of public resources,” Hall said.
“When a person has such psychiatric distress over and over again, it damages them. Physically and mentally, they deteriorate. We try to keep people from that psychiatric distress.”
One patient was recommended for Eastern State three times. The patient dropped off the radar until he was found hiding in a shed.
“This individual almost died from renal failure due to an inability to care for self,” the report said. “As a result of mental illness and associated paranoid ideation, the person was refusing to eat or drink. The person had to be tazered by law enforcement to be taken into custody. …(T)he individual’s repeated return to the community from acute care hospitalizations without a period of psychiatric stability has resulted in deterioration in the person’s level of functioning and quality of life.”
You read that right: this man, this frightened man, almost died because no place could be found for him in the hospital.
Want some more stories of the anguish this poorly-planned downsizing has caused? Okay, here are some more.
“This individual was hospitalized six times until incarcerated.”
“Efforts have been made to secure a longer-term bed at ESH three times this past year. With each denial, the individual’s level of functioning has deteriorated. Treatment staff are very concerned about his safety if the pattern continues.”
“Increasing violent and unpredictable behavior and treatment non-compliance.”
“Most recent suicide attempt resulted in being placed on a respirator for life support, needed a tracheotomy and had a long-term medical rehabilitation as a result.”
“Person has had 30 hospitalizations in the last year, not counting ER contacts. Most recent placements have been at assisted living facilities with intensive CSB outpatient services. At last two assisted living facilities, the person has accessed medications and attempted suicide. She has been removed from assisted living facility settings because of lack of funding for 1:1 supervision, which is necessary for safety.”
That first one is a doozy, and it happens WAY too often. We don’t take care of our sick, and because we’re frightened by the form of their illness, we let them be incarcerated rather than treated and helped. Lord, have mercy on us all, for we certainly show no mercy to the vulnerable among us!
There is some good news, thanks be to God.
“To help ensure appropriate community services are in place to support and maintain Eastern State Hospital downsizing, the governor proposed a budget amendment of $2.4 million that would go towards targeted services in the region,” department spokeswoman Meghan McGuire said. “In the meantime, we continue to work with partners in the community, including the community services boards, to make sure only the most appropriate individuals are admitted to Eastern State Hospital and to make sure those ready for discharge have the support in the community they need.”
Jesus said that what we do — or fail to do — to the least of these, we do — or fail to do — to him. Well, Virginia, we are killing Jesus. We are sending Jesus into renal failure. We are shutting the door on Jesus, triggering fear, depression, and suicide attempts. We are plugging our ears and singing the la-la-I-can’t-hear-you song so that we don’t have to face our own fears.
And this really is about our fears. We are terrified of the mentally ill. There but for the grace of God go I, we realize. And in a world that values intelligence and critical thought, we struggle with the idea that we might not be able to control our own minds, our thoughts. As a result, we marginalize these vulnerable people. We try not to notice them, try not to see them. When confronted with the reality of brain disorder, we try to deny it, saying idiotic things like “Well, isn’t everybody a little bit bipolar?”
Gah! Fear is the opposite of faith. We need not fear. Over and over, scripture tells us do not be afraid. Fear not. Let not your heart be troubled. Be not afraid. Still, we don’t listen, and we fear those who live among us with illness or disability, because they reveal to us our own vulnerability and we don’t like to feel vulnerable.
May God have mercy on our souls.
