mental health, song salvation & belonging
Notes from Midwest walkabout - shout out to J.
Hello dear ones, friends ~
(Stay tuned for Newsletter update coming soon!)
In July, just before heading to Costa Rica, and after returning from the Big Island, I traveled to the Midwest. I had family matters to attend to in Minneapolis and water and a dream to honor in Northern Michigan.
Specifically, I was called to visit my cousin and offer support to my eighty four year old aunt - who since the death of her husband, my mom’s older brother, thirteen years ago, has been the sole guardian of their adult son who has special needs.
For decades, my cousin has lived in and out of group homes, assisted living situations, endured long stays in hospitals and psychiatric wards. He has accrued many DSM (Diagnostic Statistical Manual) diagnoses from years in the system - bi polar, schizo affective disorder, autism, asbergers… to name a few. Though perhaps, if indeed helpful to name - neurodivergent, highly sensitive, crazy wise, savant, with complex PTSD, a portal keeper… might give a fuller, more accurate picture. The world is filled with folks who do not fit a neurotypical lifestyle and what a narrow bandwidth of so called normal modernity has shoved us into.
J. has watched more films than anyone I know, and given his reading library, he has the equivalent of several PhDs in Russian political history and punk rock and post punk music. For almost twenty years, he worked a 9 to 5 at a Blockbuster video store. When Netflix and other online streaming platforms came on the scene and smaller local video stores as well as large chain businesses, could not survive, he lost his job. He has not been employed since. That job gave him an incredible sense of purpose and satisfaction. He was good at it.
During the pandemic, like for many, the isolation was extreme and untenable. Prior to lockdown, in a last ditch effort to see if he could manage a more independent living situation, his mom moved him into an apartment building with some oversight. Unfortunately, not enough. He was found wandering naked in the snow in the middle of winter, sick and delusional with the virus. He was admitted into the hospital, for both physical and mental health reasons, where he stayed for months waiting on available living situations paid for by the state. Sadly a very common situation. It was either that, or on the streets. Not sure which is worse. Or better.
I flew out last year to help move him into the group home where he is now, a small room of his own with ample shelf space for his books. Out of the more than thirty boxes of books stored in my aunt’s garage, we brought in five or so. Some of the books he kept, others he was ready to give to the used book store or pass along to family members. Every Christmas for years he would send a book to each family member, carefully and thoughtfully considered choices- most were right on, others not so much. Books connect him to the world, opened up relationships and stories and history, and he wanted to share the gift of that with those he loves.
My cousin is one of my favorite people. He sometimes calls himself an Albino. I imagine that word is no longer politically correct, though his heart is pure and kind. I was about to say he is also totally honest, which he is, but he also makes up stories. Other times he shares he was a Sumo wrestler in a past life, says he should have been born a black man (maybe also not politically correct), and lights up when recognized as a leopard or a raven. When we were kids, one holiday visit I remember he came with me to elementary school. I must have been ten, he a year older than me. He was unlike anyone I had known - bizarre and utterly non conforming, though not by choice, by nature. On the playground he would contort his body into strange yogic like postures to demonstrate his agility and power in his made up ancient art form. Strangely, however, when I later practiced yoga as an adult, I found the shapes eerily similar to his postures. For a day or so, he did okay, though I know how much he was bullied over the course of his life, as a child and youth and adult.
This trip I started calling him song oracle. Like books, he knows music. He loves to sing and frequently breaks into song with just the right lyrics to accompany most any situation. In the good moments we end up singing loudly and are wholeheartedly moved to tears. These are some of my favorite times.
“We thought for once we knew what really was important…” (Til Tuesday, Coming up Close)
On a phone call during the pandemic, he told me, sometimes you are my queen,
I spoke with him on the phone recently after he ended up in the ER a few weeks ago after a collapse. He assured me he is okay, still … ‘trudging along’.
He has good people looking out for him at the group home, mostly brown and black immigrants. He lives in a white picket fence neighborhood in the outskirts of the city. All the streets look the same. His body aches and he can no longer find his way around. He is lonely. He either wears the black Che Guevara t-shirt I gave him or a plaid button up like his father and granddad used to wear. You would never know him to see him on the street. Every life is a universe.
Over the years I have longed for a home that could offer sanctuary to dear ones needing shelter and safety and the warmth of a hearth.
“Everything sounds like… Welcome home, come home…” (Til Tuesday, Coming up Close)
How do we create spaces and places in our hearts and communities that welcome and accommodate and support and recognize our kin who may not easily feel belonged in this world?
Oh love, what a beautiful sharing and honoring of your dear soul kin! Indeed, how do we welcome and even work with those who are “neurodivergent,” as so many cultures actually have been able to throughout time? This question has been on my mind since even before I took the “abnormal psychology” class for my undergrad psychology degree some 30 years ago.
It heartens me how much the needle of mental health and what is “normal” (or at least acceptable) has already moved in my lifetime. May we continue down this road of inquiry so we might become a richer peoples, with wider, possibly even wiser perspectives.
Thank you for your insight, empathy, and compassion. You are a Blessing. For more information about mental health resources, check out NAMI (National Alliance on Mentally Illness) Santa Barbara (Educational ZOOM on Tuesdays, 7 pm.)