Conscience does make Cowards of us all

20120709_202235Several months ago, I posted a blog entry that compared how people react to physical illnesses versus mental illnesses.

In that post, I detailed the overwhelming support I received after breaking my arm in two places.  I also bragged about how I refused to let it slow me down. Using only one arm, over a holiday weekend, I was able to produce fact sheets and other collateral materials for a very large and important client during a deadline crunch.

I also shared some aspects of my much less obvious illness:

Imagine a disease that rarely allows you to sleep through an entire night. A disease that constantly impacts your perception of the world around you; a disease that clouds your judgment, alters your reality and makes it almost impossible to get out of bed.

Imagine an intense level of pain that without medication would have you think every hour of every day about ending your life; a disease that inhibits your ability to maintain relationships and function as a productive member of society. Imagine having a disease that is commonly ridiculed and often dismissed as nothing more than “feeling sorry for yourself.”

I live with the challenges of that disease every day. I fight it with every fiber of my existence, only to know that it will never go away; that there is no cure or remedy.

Today is one of those days when I pretend that it is all so manageable. Generally, I pretend by using social media to argue and rant about politics or current events, anything other than the reality surrounding me. Presenting a false illusion of confidence and optimism.

It would be more convenient — certainly less difficult — for my friends, family and coworkers, if I could be more consistent in masking this disease.

Many of them, in fact, would prefer that I not talk about this subject, but I make no apologies, and I am not asking for much.

I would ask only, that on days like today, you treat me the same as you would if you saw my arm in a cast.

When I broke my arm, only one person told me I was “just feeling sorry for myself.”  Only one person expected me to type a 300-page report or maybe sling a hammer and just “get over it by doing something productive.” Only one person told me I was too self-absorbed and ungrateful for all the amazing gifts God has bestowed upon me.

That one person was me, and it is the voice I imagine that others whisper when I am not in the room.

Judge me if you want, but also know this . . . you will never judge me more harshly than that voice inside my head

 So, why do I write this shit? What’s the point? I have no answer. But if you click this link, you will find a wide range of others who share some unique insights and perspectives about a disease that remains invisible and generally misunderstood.

Alpacas, Obamacare and the thin line

alpacasIt’s been a tough week for a lot of us.

The days are getting shorter, the economy remains anemic and political rhetoric is intensifying in the face of a so-called government “shutdown.”

Just in the last seven days, our nation has witnessed some stunning and bizarre examples of citizen unrest.

On Thursday, a woman suffering from depression attempted to crash the White House barriers. She had her infant daughter in her car. She then headed to the Capitol, where she was eventually shot to death by police. Fewer than 24 hours later, a man set himself on fire near the National Mall.

Of course, two weeks earlier, Aaron Alexis went on a killing rampage that left 12 people dead at the DC Navy Yard.

Despite those horrific incidents, the nation remains bitterly, stubbornly focused on an intensely partisan battle that is still raging on Capitol Hill. These other incidents were mere blips on the radar screen, generally ignored like those blips that signaled the advance of Japanese fighter planes approaching Oahu on December 7, 1941.

It is mind-numbing stuff; stuff that is too difficult to even think about,  much less the sort of stuff that we are willing to discuss in the sphere of public policy.

We avoid this stuff because it’s much harder to point fingers and assign blame. It’s not as convenient or simple as arguing about Obamacare. It’s stuff that we generally want to avoid.

What does this have to do with alpacas?

As a so-called “consumer” of mental health services, I have a wide range of my own diversionary tactics, a boat-load of coping tools I can deploy to ignore the obvious and the overwhelming.

I am also a semi-professional pundit, not to mention a professional consultant who spends the bulk of his time crafting public policy messages and strategies to help clients achieve their goals.

When those two worlds intersect, I need a distraction as much as anyone else. So, I began focusing on alpacas.

Go ahead and laugh. I will wait.

This week is also the week of the annual Fryeburg Fair. For many years, I have represented various clients at that fair, staffing booths in the Natural Resources building and thus unable to enjoy the fair like most people with my family.

Of all the animals on display at the fair, I have always had a soft-spot (literally) for alpacas. I have long fantasized about how cool it would be to have a pet alpaca.

It’s just a fantasy; it’s not the real thing

This year I did not have to work at the fair. Laura and I decided that we would go on Saturday. Our youngest son, Matthew wanted to join us and bring along his girlfriend. We began planning this day almost three weeks ago.

This year, we had other things to consider about attending the fair. Laura’s MS has been progressing. On Monday, the neurosurgeon ordered her to stay home from work. For the first time, I had to get serious about wheelchairs and their cost, function. Maybe I would not need it this year. But it is part of our family’s new reality.

Earlier in the week, I once again dreamed about how great it would be to own an alpaca. The little kid in me got very excited about this prospect. Matthew, in fact, suggested that we would name our alpaca Cameron.

I am terrified thinking about my wife’s MS. I want things to stay the same. The future looks so uncertain. This is the Fryeburg Fair, dammit. I just want an apple crisp, wager on a few races, smell maple syrup and hear reports about the Red Sox and their progress in the ALCS.

What happens if Laura can’t go back to work? What happens to our health insurance? How will we be impacted by Obamacare? What if . . .?

I went to bed early on Tuesday evening in a mix of anticipation about seeing the alpacas at the fair and worrying about my wife’s health. I wept like I have not wept in years.

I really wanted an alpaca. I researched alpacas, and the adult that also lives in me tried to be as gentle as possible. But reality won on Tuesday. Our yard is too small. Alpacas live in herds. We have no business, whatsoever, in even considering the purchase of an alpaca.

It was the clashing of reality and fantasy. This tool of distraction would soon need to be replaced. What do I do now?

Sometimes a fantasy is all you need

We had so much fun on Saturday. Despite the heavy traffic, the difficulty in finding a parking spot, we all laughed so much. People of all stripes, sizes and colors packed the fairgrounds. Yes, we saw the alpacas, and we even found Cameron.

The alpacas, goats, sheep and cattle all seemed somewhat oblivious to the incessant buzz of human activity that surrounded them. They were content to gnaw on hay, to root in piles of sawdust.

For several hours, I did not hear one word about John Boehner or President Obama. I did hear that the Sox scored another run in the bottom of the fourth. The air became cooler all around us, the night sky settled in quickly.

And then it dawned on me. There is a thin line that separates reality from fantasy, dreams from nightmares.

We spend so much energy fretting about the unknown.

Sometimes all you need is some hot apple crisp, a home run by the Red Sox, the company of those you love and the experience of petting an alpaca. That way, the buzz of human activity that surrounds you becomes little more than just another day at the fair.

I think I’m turning Japanese

Two stories I found on the pages of the Portland Press Herald today:

  • [Maine's] Riverview Psychiatric Center faces the loss of an estimated $20 million in federal funding because the federal government has decided that the hospital in Augusta has not solved staffing and governance problems.” Full story
  • The mother of a Connecticut woman who was shot to death by police after trying to breach a barrier at the White House said her daughter was suffering from post-partum depression. Mother: Daughter in Capitol chase was depressed

Considering the earth shattering news that Republicans are opposing Democrats, it’s understandably tough to remember things that happened a couple of weeks ago, like the Navy Yard shooting where Aaron Alexis, a former Navy reservist, used a shotgun to begin a massacre that left 12 people dead.

A few weeks before, Alexis called police in Rhode Island, telling them that he was getting messages from his microwave, according to the Associated Press.

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,” wrote Henry David Thoreau.

But just look what happens when those desperate folks stop being quiet.

It’s easy and sexy to argue about the Affordable Care Act, gun control . . . my guy versus your guy.

But the silence becomes deafening if we dare mention other topics that (not surprisingly) have a direct and immediate impact on all the other stuff we love to debate.

Fewer than 24 hours after the incident in which a depressed woman was shot (justifiably) by Capitol police, that story has already become buried under the weight of Congressional bickering.

And the Aaron Alexis story did not fit into any of the convenient arguments for or against gun control. Don’t expect any tearful Congressional testimony there.

I return you now to the sport of pointing fingers and assigning blame. Enjoy.

It’s all been done

We are weary of these stories.

We are frustrated, exhausted, confused, angry and overwhelmed.

The outrage, speculation, ranting and debates were not nearly as strong this time. The evidence is on Twitter, Facebook and CNN. So many of us are tired of arguing about it, Many of us are worn down. Ready and longing for the next distraction so we can go back to ignoring it.

Some things didn’t change, however.

Once again, there was the consistent pointing of fingers at the usual suspects: Guns, violent music, video games and mental illness.

Think about that and these indisputable facts:

1.) The vast and overwhelming majority of people who enjoy rap music or play video games do not become violent criminals.

2.) The vast and overwhelming majority of people who own guns do not use them in the commission of a crime.

3.) The vast and overwhelming majority of people with a mental illness do not go on shooting rampages or commit other violent crimes.

But these are the most common denominators in the growing escalation of senseless massacres, so it’s easy to understand why we focus on these convenient subjects.

It seems harder, however, to face the cold, hard reality that this problem will require a lot more than a knee-jerk reaction and a single-issue focus.

My friends on both sides of the political aisle better wake up.

To the NRA and folks who prefer the right side of the political aisle, you talk a good game about mental illness, when are you going to acknowledge that system of service is broken and essentially unavailable to those on the lower end of the economic spectrum? Is it a priority yet? Or do we need more six-year olds slaughtered in their classrooms, more veterans and federal employees shot where they work? Are we ready to fund those programs? They are expensive.

Can you concede that better background checks are just common sense?

To my friends on the left, how much are you willing to compromise on the individual liberties of the mentally ill and their ability to purchase firearms? What lines of accountability will you hold to your Hollywood friends? Can we require mentally ill people to take their medications? How far down that slippery slope are you willing to slide?

Even while we debate the expansion of Medicare in Maine or the pros and cons of the Affordable Health Care Act, mental illness treatment is the last rung on the priority ladder. In fact, Governor King, Governor Baldacci and Governor LePage have all allowed cuts to mental health spending. Chew on that common denominator for a bit.

Just a few weeks before he waged his own war at the Washington Navy Yard,  Aaron Alexis complained to Rhode Island police “that people were talking to him through the walls and ceilings of his hotel rooms and sending microwave vibrations into his body to prevent him from sleeping,” according to the Associated Press.

In politics they say you should never let a crisis go to waste.

Funny, we keep wasting these crisis opportunities over and over again.

P.S. If you are still stupid enough to blather on about arming teachers to keep students safe, especially following two deadly massacres at U.S. military installations, be prepared for me to vomit on your shirt.

San Francisco threatens to sue Nevada for releasing hundreds of psychiatric patients to California

Randy Seaver:

Shipped like human waste . . . out of sight and now out of mind, literally

Originally posted on TheConfirmationFiles:

The city of San Francisco is threatening Nevada with a class-action lawsuit for allegedly giving 500 poor and homeless psychiatric patients one-way bus tickets to California.

In a letter addressed to Nevada Attorney General Catherine Masto, San Francisco City Attorney Dennis Herrera threatened to file a lawsuit unless a settlement is made within 20 days. The city is asking Nevada to reimburse the $500,000 that San Francisco spent on medical care, housing, and other assistance for those patients.

If Nevada fails to pay and adopt interstate transfer rules that would prevent ‘patient dumping,’ San Francisco will take legal action.

Herrera’s office subpoenaed bus company records, obtaining a list of nearly 500 patients who were discharged from the state-run Rawson-Neal Psychiatric Hospital in Las Vegas and sent to California on a Greyhound bus. An earlier report found that 1,500 patients have been thrown on buses and sent out of state since…

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Straight, No Chaser

Yesterday was amazing.

I’m not a social media expert, and I am wary of such titles. But I am fascinated by the new communications tools at our disposal.

angry-computer-guyWithin the last 48 hours, I published two new items on this blog, one about tension in Biddeford created by a push to enhance the city’s “creative economy,” and the other about my ongoing journey with mental illness.

Guess which one generated the most buzz? You might be surprised.

I was.

People sometimes ask me why I write this blog. The answer is simple. I just like doing it.

Self-described social media experts will tell you that the best blogs are those with a single focus, those that focus primarily upon a specific topic. I think that’s pretty good advice for building an audience, but this blog does not follow those generally accepted rules to attract visitors.

Instead, this blog is all over the place, though primarily focuses on politics and my mental illness. It is driven by my raging brain that needs a release: a cyber-coded pressure relief valve.

Although my latest post about Biddeford generated lots and lots of discussion and varying arguments on Facebook, it didn’t hold a candle to my post about my 30th anniversary of being discharged from a psychiatric hospital: broke, unemployed and homeless.

That post about the worst and best day of my life soared off  the analytics chart. Within two hours of publication, traffic to that post smashed the record for any other post in the last two years — a whopping 670 percent jump, attracting readers from Norway, Japan and England.

Why? I have a theory.

There is a lot of information out there, but a lot of it is simply varying perspectives on the same subjects.

Closer examination of my analytics reveals an interesting trend. When I write about my own unique experiences with mental illness, traffic is at its highest. It drops off  when I poke at Biddeford’s political dynamics; it falls even further when I write about Maine politics; and is at its lowest point when I weigh in about national politics, generating no more than three or four hundred unique hits.

Web surfers are weary and inundated by a flood of information about politics and hot-button issues.  Media critics rely on a tired adage: If it bleeds, it leads

But readers do respond and connect with personal stories. They like stories that restore their faith in humanity. They can only argue and fight for so long. Deep down, we want to feel good and connected to our fellow humans.

We all have our own struggles. We are encouraged by stories of overcoming adversity. Our faith is restored. Our energy is renewed, and we want to share the good news.

Like any other writer, I take satisfaction in knowing people are willing to read what I write. I was happy about yesterday’s spike in traffic, but the number of visitors here really doesn’t matter. So, I will continue ranting about any subject that pops into my brain.

But there is an important lesson for all you folks who want to deliver a message. Connect with your audience by being unique and honest.

Time out

mourningWe are all, it seems, struggling to come to terms with what happened yesterday in Newtown, Connecticut.

As the awful news began to unfold, I urged friends and family members to pause and refrain from using this tragedy to further support political/policy agendas. I was unable, –am still unable — to comprehend what happened. It seems impossible to shoulder the weight of this horrific tragedy.

“Today is not the day to have these conversations,” I wrote on my Facebook page yesterday. “Today is a day to grieve and to support one another.”

Those words strike me as empty, hollow. . .meaningless. Over the last 24 hours, our nation has experienced a range of emotions: rage, grief, shock, fear and despair.

So, how do we move forward? How do we reconcile those feelings, the raw emotions that carry us into another day?

Understandably, many of us are searching for answers, for meaning. We have different opinions, and I submit that those opinions are all vital, all necessary for the larger conversation that we can no longer ignore.

The response to my Facebook post was generally respectful. Some people, however, chided me..saying yesterday, the day before, last year was the time for that conversation. I agree with those well-intentioned Facebook friends of mine. I only wonder if they will now join me in that conversation.

Four days after the Tuscon shootings, I penned an op-ed that was published in the Portland Press Herald. I got lots of supportive feedback and some nice comments for my willingness to speak publicly about my own mental health issues and how those issues affect each and every one of us, but we all moved on to more important things . . . like arguing about Rick Santorum, Wal-Mart and Honey Boo-boo.

On July 23, I wrote another blog post about the peril of ignoring mental health issues and focusing on gun control in response to the movie theater shootings in Aurora, Colorado. But we quickly moved on . . .

As I struggle to find light in this time of darkness, there is only one small measure of comfort: for the first time, I am seeing and hearing numerous people address mental health as one of the core issues for that conversation. More people, it seems, are ready to have “that” conversation.

But it is not the only issue we must be willing to confront. I consider myself an ardent supporter of the Second Amendment, but today I am left with questions for which there seem to be no easy or convenient answers. I loathe knee-jerk reactions, but I am willing to reconsider all of my opinions so that I can join that larger conversation in a meaningful and productive way.

Ironically. as we all began dealing with the tragic fallout from yesterday’s rampage, another new story from half way across the globe was unfolding.

Questions about China’s inadequate mental health system are increasing in the wake of multiple incidents of school children being attacked and killed by knife-wielding, mentally ill people. Over the last few years, numerous school children have been killed and scores more injured by knife-wielding mad men.

That is not an argument against gun control. That is an argument that shows gun control is not the entire solution.

News commentator Bob Costas didn’t hesitate to offer his opinion about gun control less than 24 hours after an NFL player shot and killed his girlfriend before shooting himself in front of his coach. Just one week later, another NFL player was killed because he was riding in a car with a drunken teammate. It’s no surprise that there was no call for tighter alcohol controls.

Railing for gun control may help us feel a bit safer; but if we don’t have that conversation across a larger context then we can expect more of the same . . . senseless violence that shocks and angers, but then slowly fades away into distant memory.

On a final point. How do we ensure better background checks to prevent mentally ill people from purchasing or obtaining firearms?

Should someone like me, someone who struggles with depression and has been hospitalized sacrifice our privacy and have our health care records disclosed? Should family members of mentally ill people lose or sacrifice some of their rights under the Constitution?

I do not know the answers to those questions. But I do know, there is no way to guarantee safety. We live in a dangerous world, and if we are willing to sacrifice liberty for security (and considering the Patriot Act, Department of Homeland Security, and long shoeless TSA lines, we are) we may end up with something we never bargained for.

Killing me softly

gun-k92At the risk of provoking law enforcement officers, irate taxpayers, members of Maine’s Legislature and people who suffer with a mental illness, I want to congratulate Tux Turkel and a his team at the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram for an exceptional article in this morning’s paper.

At the crux of the story is the number of fatal shootings in Maine that are connected to police calls that involve someone who is mentally ill.

Before we proceed further, it’s important to note that the vast and overwhelming majority of people who suffer from a mental illness never have an interaction with law enforcement agencies.

Secondly, despite the myths, stigma, Hollywood hype and media bias, the overwhelming majority of mentally ill people are not violent.

In fact, violent acts committed by people with serious mental illness comprise an exceptionally small proportion of the overall violent crime rate in the U.S. They are more likely to be the victims of violence, not its perpetrators, according to the National Association of Social Workers (NASW)

In its March 2011 article, “Budgets Balanced at Expense of Mentally Ill,” the NASW newsletter also mentions a new report by the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration that documents a nationwide decline in behavioral health care spending as a share of all health care spending, from 9.3 percent in 1986 to just 7.3 percent, or $135 billion out of $1.85 trillion, in 2005.

(See: Pocketful of Kryptonite; All Along the Watchtower, April 2011)

Mental illness is an uncomfortable subject, one which many people would like to ignore and sweep below the rug. But we ignore it at our peril.

Asking law enforcement officers to effectively deal with ill people is sort of like expecting school janitors to provide high school tutoring services.

In our current situation, there is a natural tendency to blame the survivor. If someone has a knife and they begin moving toward you in  a threatening manner, don’t you have the right to defend yourself?

Or do we blame the person holding the knife, a person with a mental illness who is unable to comprehend reality when it matters most?

Try to imagine what it’s like to be the cop who is forced to deal with that situation, to live the rest of his or her life with the knowledge that he/she ended another person’s life.

According to the newspaper: Since 2000, police in Maine have fired their guns at 71 people, hitting 57 of them. Thirty-three of those people died. A review of these 57 shootings by the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram found that at least 24 of them, or 42 percent, involved people with mental health problems. Seven of the shootings were alcohol-related. Two involved drugs.

Of the 33 people who were killed, at least 19, or 58 percent, had mental health problems.

In the days following the 2007 massacre at Virginia Tech, “Nightly newscasts reported “no known motive” and focused on the gunman’s anger, sense of isolation, and preoccupation with violent revenge. No one who read or saw the coverage would learn what a psychotic break looks like, nor that the vast majority of people with mental disorders are not violent. This kind of contextual information is conspicuously missing from major newspapers and TV,” wrote Richard Friedman in “Media and Madness,” an article published in the June 23, 2008 issue of The American Prospect.

Friedman goes on to explain that “Hollywood has benefited from a long-standing and lurid fascination with psychiatric illness,” referencing movies such as Psycho, The Silence of the Lambs, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Fatal Attraction.

According to Friedman, “exaggerated characters like these may help make “average” people feel safer by displacing the threat of violence to a well-defined group.”

So, should we blame lawmakers or Hollywood movies for rather weak funding and policies to assist law enforcement officers in  addressing the complications of dealing with mentally ill individuals?

Or maybe, should we all take a good, long look in the mirror? In an age of economic recession, we must wrangle with legislative spending priorities.

But consider how expensive and grossly inefficient our current system is when it comes to dealing with potentially violent people who suffer from a mental illness.

In November 1993, I was living at my sister’s home near Augusta. Two days earlier, I purchased a used Lorcin .380 semi-automatic handgun with the intention of committing suicide. Fortunately, the gun misfired and jammed. Within moments, it seemed, my sister’s home was surrounded by a cadre of police officers, armed to the teeth. Who could blame them?

I was eventually transported to the Jackson Brook Institute (today Spring Harbor Hospital), where I was involuntarily committed for several days.

Compare that situation to one in 1986, when I was living in Tucson, Arizona. Pima County had a mental health rapid response team that included trained mental health workers. These teams served as the lead for responding to crisis situations. They could effectively assess the situation and call police only when necessary. They were equipped to provide the police with tools, intelligence and situational analysis that kept the officers safe.

Those types of programs cost money, but they also save taxpayers money over the long-term. More importantly, the approach in Tucson is far more likely to yield results in which no one dies. But how do you calculate the financial worth of preventing a fatal shooting?

 

Catch 22

There is a disturbing new trend in the U.S. military, and it’s killing our troops with increasing frequency.

No, we’re not talking about roadside bombs or militant terrorists. We’re talking about something that is much more frightening: suicide.

The U.S. military’s highest court is wrestling this week with whether it makes sense to punish service members who attempt suicide.

According to an article in USA Today, the military’s Court of Appeals appears perplexed about whether it makes sense to prosecute soldiers who make an attempt to end their own lives. The uncomfortable subject matter reared its ugly head during an appeal filed by attorneys for a Marine private who was court-martialed after slitting his own wrists.

From the article: Underpinning the case is the question of why the military criminalizes attempted suicide when it does not treat successful suicide as a crime.

“If (the marine) had succeeded, like 3,000 service members have in the past decade, he would have been treated like his service was honorable, his family would have received a letter of condolence from the president and his death would have been considered in the line of duty. Because he failed, he was prosecuted,” noted Navy Lt. Michael Hanzel, the military lawyer representing [the appellant].

Suicides among active-duty troops have soared in recent years, from less than 200 in 2005 to 309 in 2009, and a spike this year has put 2012 on track to set a new record high.

As someone who struggles daily with a mental illness, this story caught my attention for a number of reasons, including my own dismal military performance.

I received an honorable discharge from the United States Air Force, but it’s hard for me to think of anything “honorable” about it. Like me, this young Marine was never in a combat situation, making it all the more difficult for most people to understand — nevermind legitimize — his claim of post-traumatic stress disorder.

According to the article: “Mental health experts say criminalizing attempted suicide will undermine the Pentagon’s efforts to prevent troops from taking their own lives. Those laws might make troops reluctant to come forward, seek help and be candid with mental health counselors if they fear potential prosecution.”

So, we are left with a situation that clearly mirrors the foundations of Joseph Heller’s classic novel, Catch-22.

Essentially, the Catch 22 argument is one that predicates an outcome upon a contradictory set of rules. For example, if you are sane enough to seek discharge from the military because of a mental impairment, then you are not mentally impaired. You can only be mentally impaired if you are in complete denial that you are mentally impaired. Thus, you cannot say that you are mentally impaired and must remain in the military.

It’s actually understandable why the military is wrestling with this case. It’s damn hard to know the difference if someone is simply using the guise of a mental impairment to escape the otherwise uncomfortable bounds of their own consequences. I say this as someone who has made a serious suicide attempt.

I mean the kind of suicide attempt when you don’t write a note. You don’t make a call. There is no drama. There is just cold, dark, insufferable pain that you desperately want to end.

It happens. It’s not convenient or a light subject but it cannot be ignored without consequence.

Today, I am doing everything possible to avoid ever being in that situation again. But how much harder would that be if I knew I could be criminally prosecuted for my admission?

If you are so inclined, you can click on this link to sign an online  petition to urge the military to stop prosecuting U.S. service members who attempt suicide.

As always, thank you for reading.

Balance and perception aka “Shit happens”

An obvious aliment

Over the last few days, I have learned some valuable lessons.

First and foremost, I was reminded this week that I am extraordinarily blessed to have a diverse cadre of superior friends and family members.

I also learned a valuable lesson about ladders, not to mention a very painful experience that drove home the importance of why access to affordable and quality health care is so important for our national security.

But having so much down time has also allowed me to reflect on at least two other subjects: balance and perception.

During this presidential election season we have all heard a bunch of rhetoric about “self-reliance” and about “being in this together.” But which philosophy is correct?

Just like working with a ladder, the most important lesson is too often forgotten: it’s all about balance.

And we lose our balance when our perceptions become too narrowly defined.

A week ago, I broke my left arm in two different places while helping my sons with their landscaping business. The injuries, although significant, will eventually heal.

These last few days have been tough. It’s amazing how much you take for granted the use of two working arms. For example, try zipping up your pants with one arm. Or opening a bottle of pain meds; typing or driving a vehicle with a standard transmission.

Most people understand those limitations. They instantly empathize, and are quick to offer assistance. After all, my injuries are very obvious. My arm is either in a sling or set into a wrap-around corset to keep it in place. I have visible wounds on my legs and my elbow.

Strangers ask what happened with sympathetic voices, and they often share with me their own similar experiences. My friends laugh with me about how the accident happened. It’s okay and acceptable to make jokes about it.

We are comfortable with physical injuries. They do not frighten us. Shit happens.

Anyone who has ever smashed their elbow into a 3-inch-thick slab of stone knows that it is a painful injury. They know why you need to take it easy and sometimes need the use of medication to cope or just sleep through the night.

I say all this because these experiences provided me with a very stark contrast to my much less obvious injuries; the disease that is invisible to the eye, that is masked by perception.

On balance (no pun intended) my mental illness is far more painful than a broken arm. But you can’t see it, and I am reluctant to show it to you.

Imagine a disease that rarely allows you to sleep through an entire night. A disease that constantly impacts your perception of the world around you; a disease that clouds your judgment, alters your reality and makes it almost impossible to get out of bed.

Imagine an intense level of pain that without medication would have you think every hour of every day about ending your life; a disease that inhibits your ability to maintain relationships and function as a productive member of society.

Imagine having a disease that is commonly ridiculed and often dismissed as nothing more than “feeling sorry for yourself.”

I live with the challenges of that disease every day. I fight it with every fiber of my existence, only to know that it will never go away; that there is no cure or remedy.

I refuse to allow my broken arm to alter my life. This last week has been one of the busiest and most challenging weeks of my professional career, and I have risen to each and every challenge.

Am I bragging? Yes, but only to make a point. This is the way the overwhelming majority of people who suffer from a mental illness operate. They struggle through each day. They go to work. They mask their pain. They pay their bills. They follow the law. They take their meds and follow their doctor’s orders.

They wince when they hear the words “sicko, whack job and nut case,” but they swallow and stay silent for fear of being labeled, judged or excluded.

They are just like you. They are your neighbors, your friends and your co-workers. They did not choose to become sick any more than you would choose to fall off a ladder. They are some of the most self-reliant people you will ever meet. They have abundant courage and determination.

We all have limitations. The trick is learning to balance and to expand your range of perception. With those tools, you can fix just about anything.