It's been a weird Christmas. We spent three and a half months trying to fit Elizabeth into treatment options that didn't quite fit. She did okay for a while but struggled with the living with another family and being sort of part of the family—she was in their Christmas card picture—but not quite. They asked for time off over Thanksgiving and she went to a respite home for the weekend. She crawled out the window and ran away, seeking shelter in a Japanese restaurant, whose staff called the police. Things deteriorated from there and soon she was back in the emergency room, then the hospital, a new one this time.
Christmas day, Claire and I went over to visit. Five families shared a small room, observed by a nursing assistant in a Santa hat. We opened presents, passed around contraband food, and debated what the kids could keep and what would have to go home. Hang on, we kept telling her. Stay in control. That's your way out. But yesterday she got into a fight with another kid, whose parents pressed charges.
I drove over to talk to the officer. He was reasonable and immediately got it. "Why's she here?" he asked me. "For aggression," I responded. "Did the hospital know that?" he asked, puzzled. They did. "So why were they not monitoring her more closely?" I don't know. This is the third time charges have been brought against her, all in a hospital setting, all for exhibiting symptoms of her mental illness. He refused to arrest her, an act of mercy, a moment of grace, there within an insane system.
This hospital will most likely kick her out this week. They are a for-profit hospital and there is no money to be made off of Elizabeth. Realistically, I've given up hope for treatment now. My goal is to keep her alive and out of jail until . . . I don't know until what. Perhaps until I can create a place for her to be that can help her. I'm not sure people really talk about treatment for severely mentally ill people outside of hospitals right now. There are actually fewer treatment options than there were a few years ago. Since Sandy Hook, North Carolina has cut funds for mental health two years in a row. We've also refused Medicaid expansion, which could provide mental health access to thousands more. Once again legislators tried to close Wright School, the only ray of hope for NC children with mental illness. It's a bad time to be a child with mental illness in North Carolina.
It's actually a tough time to be a child anywhere. This month Taliban militants in Pakistan massacred 132 children. In April of this year, 273 school girls were kidnapped from the Chibok Government Secondary School by Boko Haram Terrorists in Nigeria. #Bringbackourgirls we cried. But they didn't and we lost interest. Twelve year old Tamir Rice was shot and killed holding a toy gun. #Blacklivesmatter we cried. Others protested that #alllivesmatter, totally missing the point that, as George Orwell pointed out, that while all are equal, some are more equal than others. Far too many children are killed yearly by guns, often in schools that should be places of learning and safety, while second amendment advocates piously protest about any attempt to keep children safe from guns. Children languish in foster homes, waiting for forever homes, so many that the state of North Carolina maintains a catalog for you to browse.
When JRA moved into a new building in June, we were at 34 children. We accepted an upper limit of 60 kids to appease our neighbors, the ones who thought the sound of children playing would lower their property value. Sixty kids seemed like an unattainable goal. 2014 ends with 52 children at JRA, with five more entering in January. The kids that come to us in January are usually in bad shape with desperate parents. They've been battered by their school systems, systems filled with mostly good people who have seen their resources cut. They're still expected to work miracles with difficult kids and they aren't allowed to say they can't even when they know they can't. Good teachers are leaving in droves and special education classes often have teachers with little understanding of the kids they serve. And so parents sit in my office and cry as they watch their once cheerful kid deteriorate and beg to stay home from kindergarten.
There will be those who want to know where my outrage is for those babies who are aborted each year. I hate abortion; I want it to stop. But I do not understand the passion for the unborn when those same people care little for the born. I don't know how to stop abortion, especially when we make it so hard for poor parents and parents of those with special needs to care for their children. My motto is that of Mother Jones: Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living. It's all I know how to do.
One song on my playlist year round is Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Carol of the Bells. I sang this carol in high school chorus, and I know how it should be sung, lightly and joyfully: "Gaily they ring, while people sing, songs of good cheer, Christmas is here!" But this rendition is filled with a rage that is jarring and harsh. I understand this rage. Merry Christmas dammit.
Within the Christian story of the birth of Jesus is a part we don't include in the Christmas pageants. Matthew tells the story of Herod killing all baby boys in the vicinity of Bethlehem, hoping to exterminate the newborn king. While this is not mentioned in any other historical document, some speculate that the death of several dozen babies was not a serious enough thing to even be mentioned. Murdered children stricken from history by their insignificance. Kind of like the mentally ill.
Today is the feast day of the murdered babies of Bethlehem. Perhaps we could honor their memories by making the world a little kinder and easier for the children here now. Perhaps we can think a bit less of power and comfort and hold not just our own children close, but also the children who have it the hardest. Perhaps you could be a foster parent or a mentor to a child without a stable home situation. Perhaps you could give money to my school or the Augustine Project, which teaches low income children to read. You could write a letter to your legislator, asking them to learn about Wright School and keep it in next year's budget. While you are at it, remind them that kids matter more than money. Spread the word and send money to Josh's Hope, which helps mentally ill young people transition to adulthood. Get involved with Moms Rising or Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America. There are so many organizations, created and run by people who know it's up to us.
I am, by nature, an optimistic person, even at my angriest. We are the hands that can make things happen. Let's get with it.
