Boulder agency helps Colorado vets cope with post-war trauma

One Freedom is teaching our returning soldiers mindfulness techniques and relaxation to help them overcome the trauma of the war. Nice to hear from anyone in the the People’s Republic doing some good for our soldiers. And without too much woo, even:

Soldiers are taught to take slow, controlled breaths, and while it sounds simplistic, oxygenating the body stimulates the part of the central nervous system that brings rest and calm. That stops the “fight/flight” part of the central nervous system from kicking into overload, said Steve Robinson, a trainer for One Freedom whose background is in international affairs and sports physiology.

Of course, there are therapists that have an issue with “untrained” people helping each other:

Ed Cable, a licensed psychologist in Denver who is chairman of Support Our Family in Arms group, a pro bono effort by the Colorado Psychological Association, said he believes the training should be provided by someone who is a licensed social worker or psychologist.

“You really need somebody who is aware of all the other disorders that can come along as well as PTSD,” Cable said. “Some are going to be very depressed, and they need available to them treatments for depression. … If the volunteers in this group are not trained, they could very well miss that.”

But Taslitz, a former Marine who served in Iraq in 2004 and 2005, says One Freedom is not “doing therapy.”

“This is not a therapeutic model,” he said. “This is a training model for empowering an individual.”

Read the article here.

I HEART my Shrink

My shrink called the other day, and he pretty much said that I would have to go to the Po’ People’s Clinic for my psych meds.

He said I was doing “too well” to stay on as a client. I was glad I was on the phone, because my eyes started to burn. It feels like I’m being punished, and even though that’s totally irrational, I feel incredibly upset about the whole thing. Does he realize that too many more PP’sC experiences and I could have a full-on psychotic break?! The mental health center is going to have a sudden influx (or is it reflux) of people, because my breakdown would not be an isolated incident.

I’m pretty sure I witnessed at least two patients crack up the last time I was at the clinic, and my sister is definitely on the edge.

He asked me what happened to make me so upset about PP’sC and I simply wasn’t able to articulate it over the phone. He always makes me kind of nervous, and today he acted like he didn’t know why I stopped Prozac, which made me feel even weirder, like I was doing something sneaky. Not that I think he was acting. I’m sure he really forgot. (I love it when docs don’t check their notes before talking to patients). Of course, now my thoughts are in order, and I wish I had said that I am concerned about the philosophy of the consulting psychiatrist, to whom my PCP will necessarily be deferring. Dr. J gives me a lot of control over my treatment. How do I know if I will get that from this new relationship? How does this guy feel about the possibility I will stop my medication at some point?

I like my primary care doc, but she is always incredibly rushed. I have trouble seeing her sitting and discussing any kind of med changes that I may need in the future, let alone any sort of med withdrawal. I am trying not to play “Worst Case Scenario”, and act like it is the end of the world, but Dr. J and I have come a long way, and I feel like this is really a setback.

But the worst part, I think, is that I am actually upset about not being able to go to the Mental Health Center. I hate that fcuking place just as much! They are just as screwed up as the Po’ People’s Clinic.

FYI: being crazy may look all glamorous, but let me assure you, it really isn’t as fun as it looks in the movies. Don’t try this at home, people.

You will never be all you can be, no matter what the commercials say.

There is a item on our client satisfaction survey that reads something like:

My therapist helps me to understand and recognize my limitations.

I am so troubled by that statement. I understand the point, but the message just breaks my heart. We are telling these people that there will always be limits to what they will accomplish, because, as much as we preach about recovery from mental illness, we know they aren’t really going to stop being crazy. They need to understand their place in this world. Not everyone can be an astronaut; someone’s got to mop up the vomit in the G-force centrifuge.

***

One of Us

Freaks (1932)

It was a busy night for mental health workers in our ER. When I came in, there were already two patients whose complaints were AMS (altered mental status). A third young woman was brought in shortly after for an overdose, most likely a suicide attempt. The woman in Room 2 was actively psychotic, screaming and cursing. It took less than an hour for her to reach the point where IM sedation was warranted. The second was a young man in his 20’s. He had returned home from college for summer break, and was becoming increasingly paranoid. (I was called away from my eavesdropping at that point, so missed the details of the event that actually brought him to the ED).

My BFF in the ED is a Polish woman named Agata. She is the full-time housekeeper (or Environmental Tech, according to her badge), and she has been invaluable in my early days as a volunteer. It was her I went to when I couldn’t remember a doctor’s name or where to find a certain supply.

On this night, she came to me, looking confused.

“Have you seen the boy in Room 4?”

I told her I had stopped in, but he had family with him, so I didn’t hang out long.

“He looks normal?”

I didn’t quite get it at first. Was she telling me there was something wrong with him I should tell the nurse about? I looked over there. He was talking with the mental health worker; everything seemed fine.

“He doesn’t look like he has mental problems.” she explained.

True, from across the room, he looked like any other patient–a little better groomed, maybe. When I spoke to him earlier, I noticed right away a certain fragility, and a somewhat odd speech pattern, almost as if he was trying very hard to keep himself together. But that was hardly the point.Agata is sweet and kind and meant no harm. This was what some would call a perfect “teaching moment.” I could have, probably should have, told her that mental illness is not something to fear, but a disease like any other. I could say that I have bipolar disorder, and with treatment I am able to lead a perfectly normal life. I could show her we are just like everyone else.

For just a second, I had the urge to tell her:

Guess what? I, too, am completely insane, and one can never be too careful, because we are all over the place. Some of can even pass as NORMAL. In this country, we can RUN AROUND LOOSE, no warning labels or anything. Gobble, gobble!

Instead, I did neither of those things. Instead, I completely sissied out.

“He does look quite normal.” I said, smiling like an a**hole.

***

Suicide is Painless

For the last two years, I have been the consumer family member representative on the Performance Improvement board for the BHO of three major counties. One of our responsibilities is to review all critical incidents consumers (patients) are involved in. This means that anytime a client of one of our mental health centers or independent providers commits suicide, we get to hear about it. We also get to hear about why it was never the fault of anyone caring for the client.
Ultimately, of course, it is no one’s fault but the person who committed the act, but suicide is the ultimate failure of treatment, and it is difficult to listen to a bunch of “cover your ass” excuses.