Shop Talk

So I've been thinking about some things related to my place of business lately, and specifically in regard to the clients we serve. At first glance you might say that the clients we serve are the severe and permenantly mentally ill adults that live in the locked residential facility where I spend the vast majority of my days. But I would suggest that this is not the case.

First, what is a client? A client in someone who pays you to render a service. They ask you to do something for them, and they provide remuneration for that something. But the residents I work with have done niether of these things. That is, they have not asked me to provide them this service and they are not the ones paying for it. So who is doing that? The government is. Multomah county has mandated that these people be here (via court commitment) and they are paying for their services. It is, therefore, the county who determines what we do, how we do it, and how often it gets done. So who is the client?

There is a second client we serve as well, and this is the employer. Another definition of a client is that a client is the one who gets their needs met first. In my situation it is not the resident's needs but rather the needs of my employer who are met first. For example, the employer demands that we go about treatment under a certain model, regardless of whether or not that model is what best fits the given "client." Therefore, it is the employer whose needs are being met, and before them it is the county.

So what is the resident if not a client? He or she is the identified patient. And as anyone familiar with counseling and mental health knows, the identied patient is never the sole source of the problem or the sole bearer of solutions; they are a part of a system.

It is no different with the residents where I work; they are a part of a system that includes my employer and the county, and all their needs need to be addressed if the identified patient is to be helped. It is, moreover, at the intersection where all their needs meet that we need to focus, and leave the myth that these people are actually our clients behind.

I've Gone Mental

So I’m not feeling overly creative today, so I am stealing stuff from other people and posting it here as my own (except that I just told you it wasn’t my own). I did, however, make several tweaks to the two things below. The first I tweaked so it would fit my context better, and the second one I tweaked because it was one NASTY rant, but illustrative of my point none-the-less.

How you KNOW I work in the mental health field:

You dream of a $35,000 a year salary, because that’s when you’ll know you’re 'really making it'.

You know all the latest lingo for drugs, where to get them, and how much they cost.

You start every sentence with 'So what I hear you saying is...'

You’ve had 2 or more jobs at one time just to pay the bills.

You tell people what you do and they say 'that's so noble' Except for clients, who think you just want their money (ha!).

You know a man who once held his penis in his hand, because he didn’t want it attached to anything else (and this seems perfectly reasonable to him).

You write ‘masturbation contracts’ for those that still have it attached.

You use the words 'validate,' 'appropriate' and 'intervention' daily.

You spend more than half your day documenting and doing paperwork.

You think nothing of discussing child abuse and the various used of poop over dinner.

People have said to you 'I don't know how you do what you do’ (and secretly you wonder the same thing).

You’ve never been on a business trip or had an expense account.

You’re coworkers sometimes rock back a forth and say ‘release me.’

You’re very familiar with the concept of entitlement.

Staying at a job for 2 years is 'a long time'.

Your phone number is unlisted for good reason.

Your professional newsletters always have articles about raising salaries...but you still haven't seen it.

You’re very familiar with the term 'budget cut'.

You can't imagine working at a bank or crunching numbers all day.

You’ve had clients who liked you just a little too much.

Having lunch is a luxury many days.

You’ve been cursed at or threatened...and it doesn't bother you.

Your job orientation has included self defense.

You have the best stories at any party, and some people walk away thinking you’re a liar because nobody could be that crazy or abused.

Your parents don't know half of the stuff that you've dealt with at your job.

You know how to pass any drug test.

You go to court to face off against a client with no judgment and his/her lawyer with no heart and it hurts every time, but you still do it.

Anytime someone’s kid does something weird you hear about it because they want you to fix it.

You’ve looked at another human being and truly wondered if they were, in fact, human.

*******

This I just found online by happenstance the other day. I think it was a Craigslist ‘rant.’ Again, I cleaned it up a bit (a lot). This is really borderline postable, if that’s a word, but really, people need to know:

After years of idealism, I have finally decided that I am sick and tired of helping the disenfranchised and oppressed. I have a master's degree in social work, and I've worked in a number of different settings. I've been a social worker for Children's Protective Services, a therapist on a psych ward, and I've worked as a case manager for a non-profit that shall remain nameless. I've had a number of clients over the years that I would now like to thank for helping me come to the realization that certain people are beyond help. 1) The mother and father who forced their newborn son to nurse from the family dog: Thank you!! I thought it was going to be just another typical Monday morning. You know, examining 4 year olds and finding anal warts encrusting their little rectums, watching 7 year old little Johnny masturbate the way that Daddy taught him to, and removing little Suzie from her home so Mommy wouldn't be able to put cigarettes out on her thighs anymore. Boring, run-of-the-mill stuff. Then you two beautiful people entered my life. Just in time, I might add! I was beginning to think that abusive parents were losing their sense of creativity. Silly me! What's that? Oh, I know it wasn't your fault. Of course not. No, I agree, formula IS really expensive these days. You're absolutely right, sir, it WOULD have been worse to just let the baby starve. Can I ask you just one question though? Do you think that maybe, just maybe, you could have used your WIC voucher to purchase some formula instead of selling it so you could buy a crack rock? Screw me, you say? Nope. SCREW YOU, you smarmy pile of rhino s*^%! Screw you and your crack whore "baby mama". Your child is coming with me! Merry Christmas! 2) The meth addict with Borderline Personality Disorder: Sweetie, here's a word of advice. When you are in the midst of a legal battle in which your parental rights are at stake, it is BAD for your case if you show up for your weekly supervised visits with your children spun out of your mind. Also, if you're going to have fresh track marks all over your arms, you should at least wear a long sleeve shirt so I can't see them. We talked about this before, remember? I have to write a report to the judge in a few months, and I can't in good conscience recommend that the court return your children to you when you insist on showing up to your weekly visits high as a kite, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a toothless grin. Also, it does not help your case if you assault me after I inform you that no, you can't see your kids today due to your inebriated state and your exposed vulva. I know you grew up in poverty, and I sympathize with your plight. Hell, I was poor growing up. My family was broke. We lived in the projects and never had no cheese for our hamburgers or nuthin. Somehow, though, we still managed to find ourselves some PANTS when we went out IN PUBLIC! 3) The guy who cut his own penis off and left it sitting on the altar at the Catholic church: Dude, the psychiatrist gave you the Haldol for a reason. You should really try taking it every now and then. You're really gonna kick yourself when you come out of this particular episode and realize that your johnson has transubstantiated into the body of Christ. Look, I agree that the Catholic church did some messed up stuff back in the day, but was this really necessary? What exactly did you think you were going to prove? Oh I know, I know, the voices told you to do it. But if the voices told you to go jump off of a bridge, would you do it? Wait, forget I said that. 4) The crackhead mother with 27 cats: I called you in advance to set up our appointment. You KNEW I was going to be at your house that day and that I would be evaluating your progress in making your home habitable so that your kids could be returned to you. So why, oh why did you answer the door with a CRACK PIPE IN YOUR HAND???? Oh, it's not yours? You were just holding onto it for your neighbor? Sure, I'll buy that. Let me ask you something though. Are those your neighbor's cat turds overflowing in the kirchen sink? No, you're right, those litter boxes ARE expensive. Perhaps you should consider getting rid of a few of the cats so there will be room for your children. Just a thought. By the way, is that your neighbor's blood coagulating over there on the couch? 5) The crack addict who prostituted her 8 year old son to support her drug habit: Congratulations! You have just managed to turn me into a supporter of the death penalty! What's that? You're concerned about having your little boy placed in an abusive foster home? Oh don't worry, your son is fine, dear. He won't be going to a foster home after all. You see, we had to place him in an institution because he now likes to save his feces in plastic bags so he can use them as lubrication when he jacks off onto women's panties. He also tries to rape other children. What causes him to do such awful things, you ask? Well, I'm not sure dear, but I'll hazard a guess. I could be wrong, but perhaps his current behaviors have something to do with the fact that his MOTHER RENTED OUT HIS ASS TO HUNDREDS OF PEDOPHILES TO SUPPORT HER CRACK HABIT!!!! I'd love to beat you upside the head with a tire iron. I'd probably lose my license if I did that, though. 6) To the woman who didn't want her child to be adopted by those "faggots": It's so refreshing to meet a woman who cares so much about her child for once! You're right, honey. The Bible DOES say that homosexuals are an abomination to God. Tell me, what does the Bible say about punishing your toddler for crying by sticking him with your dirty syringe needles, thereby infecting him with HIV and hepatitis? I know the Bible says "spare the rod and spoil the child", but I don't remember anything about sparing infectious diseases and spoiling the child. Perhaps you were reading the New International Version? Incidentally, those two "faggots", as you call them, have a few important things to offer your child that you have neglected to provide. What can a couple of faggots offer YOUR child, you ask? Well, first and foremost, they have JOBS!!!! Yes, that's right, JOBS!!!!!!! These jobs provide them with a trivial little thing known as HEALTH INSURANCE, which will be used to cover the medical treatment your child has to receive for the diseases that YOU gave him. These abominations to God are also capable of providing something called a HOME THAT IS NOT INFECTED WITH LICE AND CRACK. Finally, and most importantly, they will give him something known as LOVE. Ever heard of it? Ok, I feel much better now. I think I might go back to school for an MBA or something. I'm tired of working to help these people for 60 hours a week at $35,000/year.

30 Days in Prison and $1000 Fine. Crap.

I have always been a history buff; in particular I enjoy experiencing the places where history took place. I like walking in the footsteps of those who were there before me and I like to try and take my mind back to historical moments. I went on a bit of a historical misadventure the other day, seeking the opportunity to do all that I had just described, but when I did so I went to a very scary, sad place.

While searching for abandoned historical buildings on the internet (AWSOME places to explore and search for ‘treasure’) I came across a place in Salem call the Fairview Training Center, which had been abandoned since 2000. Since its construction in 1908 as the “Oregon State Institute for the Feeble Minded” it has held many thousands of Oregonians, beginning with 39 adults and children transferred there from the Insane Asylum (yes, that was what it was called). There were several reasons why exploring this place was of interest to me besides the wicked cool buildings that still (barely) stand there. First, as someone who works with the chronically mentally ill, I spend a lot of time and energy contemplating the best ways to interact, treat, and love people with severe mental illness. While I didn’t expect to find any good ideas at Fairview, I believe in the adage that in order to know where we want to go we have to know where we have been. The second reason I wanted to explore this place was that Fairview was pretty equal-opportunity in its incarceration of individuals with brain troubles. It wasn’t just the mentally ill that lived there, there was also the developmentally disabled and epileptics (the term they used when it was first built was “children with idiocy”). You see, had I been born in a slightly different time period, a time that wasn’t privy to the neurological know-how and medication we have now, I could have ended up there.

A former patient explains: "My parents took me out to Fairview and it's like a gateway to hell opened up." In fact, stories of abuse and mistreatment, murder and rape, abound from Fairview. People went missing on a fairly regular basis, either because they ran away and were never seen again, or because they died and were buried somewhere that no one can remember. Others were never buried; they drowned in wells and decomposed there. Like any such place, Fairview is rumored to be haunted, blood running down the walls, mysterious people walking across the grounds, that sort of thing. Personally, my bet is that the latter are just trespassers such as me and my friend.

General consensus of the time was that individuals with mental illness and brain disorders were basically a waste; they weren’t capable of learning, they weren’t aware of their environment, and they weren’t able to give or respond to love and kindness. Sadly, there are many who still hold this view. In fact, I would say that the view is still rather prevalent, only in a muted form. No entertainer with any common sense would make a comedy about an AIDS patient and the humorous way he or she goes about taking her drug cocktail, but we make jokes about mental illness all the time. The Oregon State Hospital is another example of this muted contempt for the mentally ill. It is simply NOT an environment in which most people will be able to get better or progress towards health, but as a society we value it not for its therapeutic function but for its containment function. Now, I’m not a prude, I make crazy jokes just like everybody else, but it’s because people are funny, humanity is amusing, not mental illness.

So anyway, the grounds of Fairview, as they stand today, were equal parts fascinating and sad. I climbed up (and slid back down-fun) what I presume to be a laundry shoot. Inside some of the dormitory (?) building were what looked like cages, though they supposedly stopped using those in the 1980’s. Some of the original buildings were absolutely beautiful, but they are also falling apart. I wanted so badly to get inside, and I could have, but not in a quiet or inconspicuous manner so I thought better of it.

As my friend were making our way toward an actual open door (awesome!) we were stopped by security (lame!) and told about how they were prosecuting and all that jazz. He mentioned also that the Navy was training there with dogs and live ammunition, but I don’t believe him. We managed to get off with a dirty look and an order to leave, which is good because trespassing there is a Class C Misdemeanor with the above mentioned punishments (see blog title). I am still fascinated by the place, and I will be back.

I tried to add pictures, but I'm not that smart.