I was listening to Hack, on JJJ here in Sydney this evening. They were discussing a recently released report which shows that a huge proportion of young people are completely dis-engaged politically.
During an interview with an employee of the Labour Party it was mentioned that the biggest issue for young people in relation to politics was trust. Asked about this, the party flunky launched into a huge discourse about how politicians need to find more appropriate ways of communicating with youth. Completely dodged the point, and the interviewer never got back to it.
While this was happening, I did have a thought about youth and contemporary means of communication. Our kids have grown up with so much more real time information at their fingertips than we did. So much so, that when a politician serves up a shit sandwich, our kids invariably know said sandwich for what it is.
Unfortunately this lack of engagement means that our youth are far more likely to get a smaller slice of the pie than any other interest group, because they are not out there fighting for it. Or, they get no pie at all.
This is very disappointing in light of my pet subject. The 15-24 year old demographic forms 20% of our population, and suffers a similar rate of mental illness to other groups. Yet, if a teen suffers an acute psychological episode and requires hospitalisation, there is nowhere safe to put them unless they are covered by private health insurance.
What is the solution? How do we get youth fighting for their slice?
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
A Personal Journey - Depression
In this missive I will explore my personal experience with mental illness.
Disclaimer: All experiences, views, and descriptions apply only to my specific individual journey. No two people experience mental illness in identical ways. Even if two people who are alike in every conceivable way develop the same mental illness, their experiences are likely to differ, sometimes significantly.
I suffer from depression. Looking back, I feel that I have done so since eight or nine years of age, although I was not diagnosed till I was about thirty.
I am just going to throw out a list of descriptive words and phrases concerning my experience of depression as they come to mind, rather than make an attempt at a couple of nicely written paragraphs.
Feeling lost
Seeing no way forward/out
Believing myself to be worthless
No motivation
Lethargy
Apathy
Feeling generally unworthy
Believing myself to be useless
Believing myself to be stupid
Who could possibly love such a useless person?
Experiencing little or no joy
Faded colours, sounds, and tastes
Not fit to live
Feeling like a burden to everyone
Possessing no ambition
Lack of confidence
Low self esteem
Addictive personality
All of this tends to be wrapped up and experienced as an all encompassing, crushing and suffocating darkness. Depressive episodes may include thoughts, sensations, and experiences from part or all of the above list, and may vary from mild to mind crushing.
Stephen Fry once said of the depressive phase in his Bi-Polar cycle, 'there is a silent, yet clearly apprehended voice in your mind, telling you over and over that you are a useless c**t'. For me this captured something very clearly in my own experience. So much so that I shed a tear when he articulated my experience so clearly. Imagine this voice starting up when you are a young child, and not letting up until adulthood, and even then continuing to return on a fairly regular basis.
Today it is thought that depression can have a genetic basis. My own battle with depression comes out of eleven years of bullying by my peers, and everything ranging from cold indifference to bullying on the part of many adults in my life.
By the time I was seventeen I was seriously considering making an ending. I saw no other way forward.
At this crucial decision point in my life I met an extraordinary girl who took me for who I was. The sun came out. I came to understand that I could love another, and even more significantly, that it was just possible that I could be loved in return. She is still by my side nearly thirty years later.
In addition to meeting someone my own age who entered my life in such an amazing way, I then met her parents. Adults who treated me with respect, and also took me as I was. Many years later I told my Mother In-Law of the impact they had, which kind of blew her mind a little. The one piece of sadness I have here is that my Father In-Law had passed away before I got around to speaking of these things.
The depression did not magically go away, but moving into my young adult years I had the emotional backing to work at learning to be myself, and learning to live life. The arrival of our children gave me further focus outside my own head. In a way, my ambition, my career, became being a good husband and father. My actual work has always been a means of aiding me in doing this.
There continued to be struggles, and after a bank robbery where I had a pistol pointed right at the tip of my nose by one robber, and another tried to take my head off with a metal bar, things came to a head. During a period where I began to suffer the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress, I went to see a psych. It was here that depression was diagnosed.
You would think that this would be the big 'ah-hah' moment where we now know what's wrong and treatment could start, right? Wrong. At this point in time, treatment was way beyond my financial means, so I continued to cope by myself, with the support of my family. Trying to seek treatment with the financial assistance of the bank who had employed me at the time of the robbery led to five years in court. At least now I had a name for what was wrong, and this in itself made some difference.
In addition to my wife and kids, I found release in music, reading, and Football (both playing and coaching). I also began to think through what I was feeling, and started a process by which I made the conscious decision to get out and do what needed to be done, regardless of where my mind was at. As I matured and got more practice at this, I found that I had a greater degree of confidence in making my way each day.
Today I have still not been treated. I have had other events and health problems which have triggered major depressive episodes. That voice is still there to greater or lesser degree depending on what triggers I find in my daily life. It has far less power to dictate how I respond. I still struggle from time to time to understand that I add value in this life, especially when I stuff up at home or make a mistake at work. Again, I seem to have developed enough life experience and maturity to work through this.
The big surprise is that events in the last six months have not triggered a major depressive episode. Sure, I am heart broken, tired, and stressed, but my response has been to work to support my kids and family rather than sinking into the darkness.
The struggle goes on, but with love and support at my back, it is a war that I can fight.
These days there are a lot more resources available which give sufferers of mental illness an avenue to at least talk, even if acute care facilities are somewhat lacking. I intend to devote my next post to listing some of these.
Disclaimer: All experiences, views, and descriptions apply only to my specific individual journey. No two people experience mental illness in identical ways. Even if two people who are alike in every conceivable way develop the same mental illness, their experiences are likely to differ, sometimes significantly.
I suffer from depression. Looking back, I feel that I have done so since eight or nine years of age, although I was not diagnosed till I was about thirty.
I am just going to throw out a list of descriptive words and phrases concerning my experience of depression as they come to mind, rather than make an attempt at a couple of nicely written paragraphs.
Feeling lost
Seeing no way forward/out
Believing myself to be worthless
No motivation
Lethargy
Apathy
Feeling generally unworthy
Believing myself to be useless
Believing myself to be stupid
Who could possibly love such a useless person?
Experiencing little or no joy
Faded colours, sounds, and tastes
Not fit to live
Feeling like a burden to everyone
Possessing no ambition
Lack of confidence
Low self esteem
Addictive personality
All of this tends to be wrapped up and experienced as an all encompassing, crushing and suffocating darkness. Depressive episodes may include thoughts, sensations, and experiences from part or all of the above list, and may vary from mild to mind crushing.
Stephen Fry once said of the depressive phase in his Bi-Polar cycle, 'there is a silent, yet clearly apprehended voice in your mind, telling you over and over that you are a useless c**t'. For me this captured something very clearly in my own experience. So much so that I shed a tear when he articulated my experience so clearly. Imagine this voice starting up when you are a young child, and not letting up until adulthood, and even then continuing to return on a fairly regular basis.
Today it is thought that depression can have a genetic basis. My own battle with depression comes out of eleven years of bullying by my peers, and everything ranging from cold indifference to bullying on the part of many adults in my life.
By the time I was seventeen I was seriously considering making an ending. I saw no other way forward.
At this crucial decision point in my life I met an extraordinary girl who took me for who I was. The sun came out. I came to understand that I could love another, and even more significantly, that it was just possible that I could be loved in return. She is still by my side nearly thirty years later.
In addition to meeting someone my own age who entered my life in such an amazing way, I then met her parents. Adults who treated me with respect, and also took me as I was. Many years later I told my Mother In-Law of the impact they had, which kind of blew her mind a little. The one piece of sadness I have here is that my Father In-Law had passed away before I got around to speaking of these things.
The depression did not magically go away, but moving into my young adult years I had the emotional backing to work at learning to be myself, and learning to live life. The arrival of our children gave me further focus outside my own head. In a way, my ambition, my career, became being a good husband and father. My actual work has always been a means of aiding me in doing this.
There continued to be struggles, and after a bank robbery where I had a pistol pointed right at the tip of my nose by one robber, and another tried to take my head off with a metal bar, things came to a head. During a period where I began to suffer the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress, I went to see a psych. It was here that depression was diagnosed.
You would think that this would be the big 'ah-hah' moment where we now know what's wrong and treatment could start, right? Wrong. At this point in time, treatment was way beyond my financial means, so I continued to cope by myself, with the support of my family. Trying to seek treatment with the financial assistance of the bank who had employed me at the time of the robbery led to five years in court. At least now I had a name for what was wrong, and this in itself made some difference.
In addition to my wife and kids, I found release in music, reading, and Football (both playing and coaching). I also began to think through what I was feeling, and started a process by which I made the conscious decision to get out and do what needed to be done, regardless of where my mind was at. As I matured and got more practice at this, I found that I had a greater degree of confidence in making my way each day.
Today I have still not been treated. I have had other events and health problems which have triggered major depressive episodes. That voice is still there to greater or lesser degree depending on what triggers I find in my daily life. It has far less power to dictate how I respond. I still struggle from time to time to understand that I add value in this life, especially when I stuff up at home or make a mistake at work. Again, I seem to have developed enough life experience and maturity to work through this.
The big surprise is that events in the last six months have not triggered a major depressive episode. Sure, I am heart broken, tired, and stressed, but my response has been to work to support my kids and family rather than sinking into the darkness.
The struggle goes on, but with love and support at my back, it is a war that I can fight.
These days there are a lot more resources available which give sufferers of mental illness an avenue to at least talk, even if acute care facilities are somewhat lacking. I intend to devote my next post to listing some of these.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
The Following Months - A Fathers Experience
In the last post we left off at the point where we were given two choices after our girl had spent several days in an emergency assessment unit. Put her in St Vincents Private (at about $5000 a day) or take her home. As mentioned we were fortunate, in that St Vincents Private had a bed free, and we have full private medical insurance.
The proceeding months have been a nightmare that one can barely find words to describe.
After four or five days in emergency assessment, my daughter was transferred to St Vincents Private where she stayed for around 35 days. While I have developed some reservations as to the effectiveness of the treatment there, the huge bonus was that my daughter was in a safe and secure environment that took away any immediate worry about further suicide attempts.
As the hospital is not so far from my place of work, it fell to me to be the daily contact between my daughter and her immediate family.
The five weeks she was in hospital went as follows;
- Up at 5 a.m. and off to work
- Knock off at 4 p.m. an make my way to the hospital
- Visit for an hour or two then make my way home on public transport
- Dinner at 9 p.m. and help with chores
- In bed between 10:30 and 11:30 p.m.
- Day time visits on Saturday and Sunday with my wife
- Rinse and repeat
In terms of work, I was doing my own job and filling in for my Manager during this period. At some point during this period, I was not only exhausted, but was likely beginning to break down emotionally and mentally. Although to this day I have no idea at all of what I may have done, there were complaints (for the only time during a twenty five year career) to senior management that I did not seem to be focused on my work and that my behavior was being somehow disruptive. Given the situation I found myself in, I am not surprised.
Then we got her home.
My two girls have always shared a room, as living in Sydney is hideously expensive, and more living space is beyond my means. The first thing I witnessed, was that an already traumatised younger sister started to sink into depression herself because of the added pressure of not having any space separate from a sibling displaying symptoms and behaviors that she just could not escape. In the finish, I managed a quick and dirty renovation of the back shed to create an extra room.
My amazing and beautiful wife, also traumatised beyond what any parent should have to endure, has experienced stress, anxiety, nightmares, and an unceasing tiredness. It has fallen to her to get herself, and both daughters to a seemingly never ending round of appointments with counselors psychologists, psychiatrists, and doctors over recent months. This in addition to holding down a twenty five hour per week job and looking after much of the chores at home.
Our adult son, who has not spoken about recent events, and who has not availed himself of any professional support has been an unknown and worrying quantity. I have however witnessed pure gut wrenching horror on his face whenever he saw clearly, the damage that his sister had done to herself with sharp blades.
Despite my great love, and my huge desire to protect and help my daughter, I have felt largely impotent. Beyond doing our best to ensure she gets to appointments that she must attend, she has been pretty much apathetic about everything. She has quit school, not made any real effort to look for work, continue learning, volunteer, exercise, or even do those everyday things to look after herself. Any effort to try and kick start efforts in these areas peters out before it starts or escalates into a flaming row. One plus, is that after some months, we have at least got her drawing and painting again. It is a start.
One of the most difficult things is to manage my efforts as a parent to assist my daughter as she deals with her illness, while not robbing my wife or either of my other two children of my time and efforts at the same time.
So, as a dad, where am I at right now?
I am exhausted.
My heart breaks every morning when I leave for work, knowing that for much of the day my older daughter will be at home without support or supervision.
I worry every day (despite evidence to the contrary) that I am not performing in my job.
My heart breaks every day when I see my youngest daughter looking sad, tired, and depressed.
My heart breaks every day when I see that my wife looks a little older, more tired, more worried, more stressed, and more anxious than she did the day before.
I worry when I realise that I know nothing about how my son has experienced all of this.
I worry when I realise that I can count on my fingers the number of times in the last six months that my wife and I have been together alone for more than five minutes, and both awake.
When one of my kids or my wife comment that they dislike living where we do, dislike the old and cramped car we drive, or that they need something that we just don't have the money for because of the hit our finances have taken during this time, my heart breaks again.
The plus is, that although I am a long term sufferer of depression myself, I have not seen any real signs of the black dog recently. I simply do my best, concentrating on one day and one step at a time.
This been a somewhat rambling look into how I as a father have experienced the last six months. Again, I apologise for the disorganised writing. I started out intending to be brutally honest, and ended up self moderating to avoid writing anything that could embarrass my wife or my kids. This impacted the flow of the post.
From here, I intend to begin some more formal posts dealing with youth mental health in general, and the resources available to families relying on the public system. I might also look at depression from a personal perspective, and delve into the subject of bullying.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Interlude - Thoughts On Gay Marriage
Researching and writing on the subject of Youth Mental Health, and our families experience is taking far more energy and motivation than I have had over the last few weeks. So, a little something else to keep this little corner of the web active.
Gay marriage.
It's not so much that I am for gay marriage specifically. Rather, I am for the right of ALL consenting adults to not only love each other, and commit to each other, but also to be treated alike by our communities and laws.
Recently I have seen the opinion expressed (most often by the wingnut brigade) in many countries in the West, that marriage has only one purpose. Making babies. Outside this purpose, why would we even worry about this issue?
What happens if a couple is infertile? What about those past child bearing age? How about couples who simply don't want kids? We probably need to include couples who simply can't afford to have a family also.
Also, if marriage is all about making babies, I did it for all the wrong reasons. I committed myself to an amazing woman because I simply wanted to spend my life with her. I loved her. I still do. We have three great kids who I love to death, but when I proposed to my wife I asked to spend my life with her, not to make babies with her.
As for the argument that heterosexual marriage (specifically between one 'natural' man and one 'natural' woman) is both a biblical tradition, and also the foundation of society, I can only say read your bible again, and check the history books. Marriage not only pre-dates the biblical era, but has historically come in many different flavours (including in the bible itself). The idea of having several wives and a bevy of concubines seems not to be too unusual by this standard, but too much like hard work to my mind.
The slippery slope? All the humorous and disgusting things that gay marriage will apparently lead to, sit outside one very basic idea that I have already mentioned. CONSENTING adults. Not a difficult concept is it?
On a final note, I would absolutely love for someone to explain to me how allowing two men or two women to be legally bound to each other in a loving relationship will destroy 'traditional' marriage. If your marriage fails because your gay neighbours get married, I would suggest your marriage was doomed already.
Gay marriage.
It's not so much that I am for gay marriage specifically. Rather, I am for the right of ALL consenting adults to not only love each other, and commit to each other, but also to be treated alike by our communities and laws.
Recently I have seen the opinion expressed (most often by the wingnut brigade) in many countries in the West, that marriage has only one purpose. Making babies. Outside this purpose, why would we even worry about this issue?
What happens if a couple is infertile? What about those past child bearing age? How about couples who simply don't want kids? We probably need to include couples who simply can't afford to have a family also.
Also, if marriage is all about making babies, I did it for all the wrong reasons. I committed myself to an amazing woman because I simply wanted to spend my life with her. I loved her. I still do. We have three great kids who I love to death, but when I proposed to my wife I asked to spend my life with her, not to make babies with her.
As for the argument that heterosexual marriage (specifically between one 'natural' man and one 'natural' woman) is both a biblical tradition, and also the foundation of society, I can only say read your bible again, and check the history books. Marriage not only pre-dates the biblical era, but has historically come in many different flavours (including in the bible itself). The idea of having several wives and a bevy of concubines seems not to be too unusual by this standard, but too much like hard work to my mind.
The slippery slope? All the humorous and disgusting things that gay marriage will apparently lead to, sit outside one very basic idea that I have already mentioned. CONSENTING adults. Not a difficult concept is it?
On a final note, I would absolutely love for someone to explain to me how allowing two men or two women to be legally bound to each other in a loving relationship will destroy 'traditional' marriage. If your marriage fails because your gay neighbours get married, I would suggest your marriage was doomed already.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
On the Soap Box - A Very Near Miss & The Aftermath
NOTE: This is a re-post, after the original vanished from my blog for some reason.
Here we go with the first Soap Boxer post, not counting that intro below of course. I will ask your forgiveness up front. This post is likely to more a rambling collection of thoughts and recollections than an actual article.
Why am I writing this?
We in our family have had a horrific six months. Actually it's more like two years, but the real nightmare began six months ago. Psychologists and Case Workers have advised that we keep a journal to log our thoughts and experiences, as part of the tool kit for healing up.
I have decided to go for an extra dose of pain and discomfort with my journal, and do it publicly. Right from the early days six months ago, I felt a strong conviction that these things NEED to be talked about publicly. I believe that talking about these things publicly can not only raise awareness and make people think, but maybe even save lives. It has taken me this long to reach a point with myself, and the family, where I could start to write.
The nightmare begins.
At 3:30pm on 04th September 2012, I got a phone call at work from my wife. She was clearly distraught, and while I was beginning to gain a glimmer of the horror of what she was trying to say, I was unsure what was going on. The phone is handed to a very kind and gentle sounding Paramedic who explains what my wife was trying to tell me.
About half an hour earlier, my youngest daughter and her mum, arrive home from school and work. While putting a few things away in the pantry, my wife realised that it was very quiet, and that our daughters bedroom door was closed. Something that never happened.
The two of them open the door to check on our older daughter, as maybe she is sick or something. What they found was our older daughter, hanging from a bed sheet. She was unconscious and had stopped breathing.
Even though I am her dad and have been completely shattered by this experience, I can not begin to understand what it was like for mum and little sister to step into this scene.
They both reacted in the right ways at the right times, getting our daughter loose and getting her breathing again, although it was a while before consciousness returned. Paramedics were called, and one of the darkest journeys that any parent could ever experience began.
Our beautiful girl had tried to take her own life.
The first few days.
The paramedics took our daughter to an Emergency Mental Health Evaluation Unit at the local public hospital. As great as this unit was, they are not permitted to keep patients for more than a couple of days.
Nearing the end of the stay in the emergency unit, we were given two options. Take our daughter home, or put her in St Vincents Private where they have a private mental health unit dedicated to young adults. Thank goodness for private health cover, because taking her home at that moment had a high chance of being a death sentence. A third option, barely even mentioned and not considered, was a public hospital mental health ward. Definitely not a place you can put a sixteen year old girl.
In this time we also discovered that she had been self harming, abusing over the counter pain killers, and drinking. We actually had caught her drinking and smoking earlier, but did not realise the extent of what we were starting to witness.
Working things out.
Our daughter has since been diagnosed as Bi-Polar 2, and suffering from General Anxiety Disorder. There were a range of other less acute issues that have been diagnosed along the way, such as Paranoia, and Body Dysmorphia.
For a great deal of her child hood she has been hiding what she really felt, right up until it nearly killed her. A child who was always seen as a happy, intelligent, bubbly person who made everyone in contact with her feel happy, was anything but, and too afraid to show it.
Six months later, the doctors are still tinkering with a cocktail of mood stabilisers, anti-depressants, and sleeping medication, in an effort to get her stabilised. Until that happens, the family is living in a permanent state of hyper-vigilance.
Now?
We were very lucky throughout this experience and the aftermath in a number of ways.
Our daughter was found in time. She has escaped without any of the physical damage that can come from an attempted suicide by hanging. Her mum has a first aid qualification, and her sister is a Cadet Life Guard, with her Bronze Medallion. They both knew just what to do despite the turmoil that must have been unfolding in their minds at the time.
While we live from pay to pay, have a very frugal lifestyle, and have no savings, I have insisted for years on having full, comprehensive, health cover. Acute mental health care in hospital for more than a day or two, as we have discovered, is just not available for young people unless they can go private (even then there are severely limited resources). Our daughter spent forty days in hospital under twenty four hour supervision.
The local Family Health Team in the public health system has been absolutely fantastic. Under funded, under staffed, and over worked, we were still provided with a Case Manager who in turn provided care via Counselors, Psychologists, Psychiatrists, and Community Workers, not just for our daughter, but for anyone in the family who needs help. These guys have been amazing.
We have had our daughter connected with a specialist recruitment agent who deals specifically with Youth suffering through mental health problems.
That's enough for today. The grammar and syntax is terrible, but writing this has left me more than a little weepy and shaky, so I am leaving it as is. There is more to add, and some very important related subjects that I want to write about. This will occur as I gather thoughts, information, and motivation.
Here we go with the first Soap Boxer post, not counting that intro below of course. I will ask your forgiveness up front. This post is likely to more a rambling collection of thoughts and recollections than an actual article.
Why am I writing this?
We in our family have had a horrific six months. Actually it's more like two years, but the real nightmare began six months ago. Psychologists and Case Workers have advised that we keep a journal to log our thoughts and experiences, as part of the tool kit for healing up.
I have decided to go for an extra dose of pain and discomfort with my journal, and do it publicly. Right from the early days six months ago, I felt a strong conviction that these things NEED to be talked about publicly. I believe that talking about these things publicly can not only raise awareness and make people think, but maybe even save lives. It has taken me this long to reach a point with myself, and the family, where I could start to write.
The nightmare begins.
At 3:30pm on 04th September 2012, I got a phone call at work from my wife. She was clearly distraught, and while I was beginning to gain a glimmer of the horror of what she was trying to say, I was unsure what was going on. The phone is handed to a very kind and gentle sounding Paramedic who explains what my wife was trying to tell me.
About half an hour earlier, my youngest daughter and her mum, arrive home from school and work. While putting a few things away in the pantry, my wife realised that it was very quiet, and that our daughters bedroom door was closed. Something that never happened.
The two of them open the door to check on our older daughter, as maybe she is sick or something. What they found was our older daughter, hanging from a bed sheet. She was unconscious and had stopped breathing.
Even though I am her dad and have been completely shattered by this experience, I can not begin to understand what it was like for mum and little sister to step into this scene.
They both reacted in the right ways at the right times, getting our daughter loose and getting her breathing again, although it was a while before consciousness returned. Paramedics were called, and one of the darkest journeys that any parent could ever experience began.
Our beautiful girl had tried to take her own life.
The first few days.
The paramedics took our daughter to an Emergency Mental Health Evaluation Unit at the local public hospital. As great as this unit was, they are not permitted to keep patients for more than a couple of days.
Nearing the end of the stay in the emergency unit, we were given two options. Take our daughter home, or put her in St Vincents Private where they have a private mental health unit dedicated to young adults. Thank goodness for private health cover, because taking her home at that moment had a high chance of being a death sentence. A third option, barely even mentioned and not considered, was a public hospital mental health ward. Definitely not a place you can put a sixteen year old girl.
In this time we also discovered that she had been self harming, abusing over the counter pain killers, and drinking. We actually had caught her drinking and smoking earlier, but did not realise the extent of what we were starting to witness.
Working things out.
Our daughter has since been diagnosed as Bi-Polar 2, and suffering from General Anxiety Disorder. There were a range of other less acute issues that have been diagnosed along the way, such as Paranoia, and Body Dysmorphia.
For a great deal of her child hood she has been hiding what she really felt, right up until it nearly killed her. A child who was always seen as a happy, intelligent, bubbly person who made everyone in contact with her feel happy, was anything but, and too afraid to show it.
Six months later, the doctors are still tinkering with a cocktail of mood stabilisers, anti-depressants, and sleeping medication, in an effort to get her stabilised. Until that happens, the family is living in a permanent state of hyper-vigilance.
Now?
We were very lucky throughout this experience and the aftermath in a number of ways.
Our daughter was found in time. She has escaped without any of the physical damage that can come from an attempted suicide by hanging. Her mum has a first aid qualification, and her sister is a Cadet Life Guard, with her Bronze Medallion. They both knew just what to do despite the turmoil that must have been unfolding in their minds at the time.
While we live from pay to pay, have a very frugal lifestyle, and have no savings, I have insisted for years on having full, comprehensive, health cover. Acute mental health care in hospital for more than a day or two, as we have discovered, is just not available for young people unless they can go private (even then there are severely limited resources). Our daughter spent forty days in hospital under twenty four hour supervision.
The local Family Health Team in the public health system has been absolutely fantastic. Under funded, under staffed, and over worked, we were still provided with a Case Manager who in turn provided care via Counselors, Psychologists, Psychiatrists, and Community Workers, not just for our daughter, but for anyone in the family who needs help. These guys have been amazing.
We have had our daughter connected with a specialist recruitment agent who deals specifically with Youth suffering through mental health problems.
That's enough for today. The grammar and syntax is terrible, but writing this has left me more than a little weepy and shaky, so I am leaving it as is. There is more to add, and some very important related subjects that I want to write about. This will occur as I gather thoughts, information, and motivation.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
New Beginnings & Directions
This post resurrecting the Soap Boxer Blog marks something of a departure. A blog that hosted writings and resources on the subjects of leadership and management, is being turned to matters more social and cultural.
As an individual I find myself wanting to challenge some difficult aspects of our society. In some cases these have almost attained the position of being taboo.
Some subjects that may find themselves up on the Soap Box over time include mental health, equal rights, privilege education, health care and medicine, bullying, religion, and if I am feeling particularly masochistic, politics.
For now though, much of my thoughts will be on the subject of mental health care, particularly as it relates to our kids and families.This is an area where recent experience tells me there is a lot if discomfort about openly discussing the subject.
I am perfectly aware that we see media, press, and health related organisations talking about this. However, hearing an individual talk about personal experience with mental illness seems rare. Almost taboo if you will.
It is in this light that I have decided to write my next couple of posts. It will be confronting and painful enough, that I expect that the quality of the writing will not be perfect. However, I wish to show that it is perfectly OK, and maybe even helpful to talk openly.
Stay tuned.
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