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[quote=Anonymous][quote=Anonymous][quote=Anonymous][quote=Anonymous]In her seventies my mother went off her meds. Her schizophrenia resurfaced and she became convinced that she couldn't stay in her section 8 housing because people were after her. She moved into the downtown area of her local city (not DC) and began sleeping on the street. I've been estranged from her since early childhood, in case you're wondering why I *allowed* this to happen. I had no control over it, but eventually was notified by the a hospital in the city where she'd been taken. At that point I hadn't spoken to her in years.

At that point I did try and become involved. I learned that the city wasn't going to give her back her apartment, the home she'd had for forty years. Instead a social worker suggested I could collect her (I lived 3,000 miles away) in the next two days or she could 'choose' to live in a hotel where they discharged all their patients. The monthly rent for a room at the hotel was *only* 1000. Her social security payment was 1100. Therefore, the social worker told me brightly, she'd be fine!

I googled the motel's location. It was on a six-lane highway in the city's exurbs, the kind of place that's impossible to travel from without a car. There was no way for her to live there (even if she would), or go to medical appointments, or access any care. There was also no follow up plan. My mother was, the social worker explained, fully in charge of her own life and her own choices. It wasn't their problem... And why couldn't she move in with us?

I expect a lot of you wonder the same thing. Why couldn't she move in with us?

I don't think anyone doesn't love their mother. I love mine. But this is also a woman who physically abused me and abandoned me when I was in elementary school. She has at least as much baggage about that as I do, and putting her into our lives would be like pulling the pin of a live grenade. It would destroy my marriage. It would destroy my children. It would destroy me. It was a terrible choice. I'm crying as I type this and I'm not sure why I am sharing it at all in this unfriendly place except to say that sometimes the homeless aren't drug addicts, or irresponsible people, and sometimes all the best intentions in the world can't fix something. Medicated, my mother is a sweet old lady, by all accounts, polite and charming and well-read. She plays the piano and loved mysteries. Unmedicated, she is psychotic, ranting about rape and accusing everyone of plotting against her. She'll pick up knives and strip naked and run out into the street. I believe something like that was how she got picked up from her downtown city in the first place.

What finally happened with my mom was she ended up on a Greyhound bus, which let her off in a small Midwestern town, which mysteriously has this sort of thing happen all the time. They have a fairly robust social services network to deal with it. My mother now lives in assisted living there. They give her shots of haldol, which keep her sane. We write letters. After years of failed connections I think we both know both of us can't handle more than that from each other. There's too much pain there for it to be otherwise.

When I see the homeless encampments in DC all I can think about is my mom and how terrible schizophrenia is as a disease. Some people need support. Out society needs to give it to them.

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I suspect the people in the small midwestern town were part of the Lutheran Social Services network.  Something similar happened to my brother.  He received a diagnosis of schizophrenia when he was living on the streets of SanFrancisco as an alcoholic.  Because he had been in a graduate program at SanFrancisco State, it was determined that he was mentally ill and self medicating to leave the program.   The best outcome of this diagnosis is that he qualified  for a small disability payment.   He was hit by a car one evening and while not seriously injured was taken to the hospital and after his release was taken to a homeless shelter.  A few days later, I received a call from a very aggressive social worker insisting that I pick him up in 24 hours.   I dropped everything and raced to SanFrancisco.  By the time I got there, he had walked away from the shelter and could not be located.   I spent a few days there looking in  and around the area where he was hit by the car in hope of finding him.   I had to return home and to my job but stayed in touch with the social worker.  About a month later, I received a call from a minister in a town outside of St. Paul Minnesota.  My brother had come there with a few other homeless people from SanFrancisco and was found living behind a restaurant.   He was re-settled to a small farming town where he was given free lodging in an apartment building for the homeless.   He has the rest of his money for living expenses, which means mostly wine and beer.   I get dunned by the very kind parishoners to come visit my brother and to stay in touch with him.   I have tried but he wants nothing to do with me.  I have wasted thousands of dollars on air fares only to be told he has disappeared from the apartment.

Honestly, he has the best life he can have, and if he wants to stay drunk for the rest of his life he had the framework to do so.  We give generously to the charity that houses him because they are basically taking care of a problem for us.  It is very sad, but it is not something I can solve.  [/quote]

I just wanted to respond to both of these thoughtful posts. You both sound like wonderful, caring people who have been through a lot. I’m sorry that social workers/hospital personnel made you feel guilty/responsible for your mentally ill loved ones. I am a mental health care professional and I (and most of my colleagues) know how devastating these illnesses are to families and have nothing but respect and empathy for family members like you. [/quote]

I also appreciate these thoughtful posts.  I also see the other posts from the less thoughtful, judgemental, and self-absorbed people who lack any sens of compassion.  I have a sibling who has a chronic health condition, significant learning difference, and is on the spectrum.  He’s in his 50’s and lives with my elderly parents.  While he works, he doesn’t earn enough to pay for his own housing and cover all of his other bbasic living expenses.  Luckily he lives in a blue state that long ago ensured access to health care.  My brother would probably be homeless if he couldn’t live with my parents.  His siblings will make sure he’s okay after my parents pass and we are lucky that he trusts us and doesn’t suffer from a mental illness like schziophrenia.  What I have learned from growing up with a sibling with both mental and physical health challenges is that a lot more people than I thought lack empathy and have a pretty callous attitude to people with mental health challenges.  Everyone of us is someone’s baby.  Many of us have children of our own on this website.  I always try to remember that when I see people living in a tent, ranting in a Starbucks that we’re all being spied on, or setting up home in a bus stop.  I have never met a child who says I hope I’m Schizophrenic when I grow up.  I really dream of being an alcoholic or addict.  When I grow up I hope to live in a tent by the National Cathedral.  Try to see the humanity in everyone you see. Even the people you fear will bring down your property values.  If we can focus more on one another’s humanity—like it sounds like people in the smaller communities did in the case of the prior posters’ mother and brother—we just might be able to make more progress in getting people out of their tents.[/quote]

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