SentiMental

Did you know Oct. 11TH is national mental health day? Mental Health Day only happens once a year~it consists of free testing for normality. The funny thing is, in all the the many years they have conducted these tests (with rubber chickens, red rubber noses and x-ray specks!) they have not found one normal person~between you and I, I'M RELIVED! I find the whole field of therapy I.E. psychiatry, psychology and all other shiny and newly developed hip mental supports- over used & underdeveloped. Its relatively sole (S)t(C)heme  of profit and gain. Many American institutions are responsible, from drug companies, insurance companies, lawyers & the list goes on. I have had several psychologists myself and for my kids. They have varied tremendously in technique: one psychologist helped by simply bashing Nerf swords and letting our son scream. While another  did things I' m convinced she just plain made up on the spot. I often wondered why and how  these tests are created, either it's to laugh about later, or to see if someone would fall for this ridiculousness! (no offense if any technique I am about to share has worked for you.) 
It was After the Columbine killings, my eldest son was having a difficult time.He has always worn all black, and at that time he also sported a black oiled duster, Can you say target? He is very true to himself and was intelligent enough to know that a trench coat, does not a killer make. You would not have known that for all the hype going on about the trench coat killers shoved down our throats by the media, fellow work related people-and even my own friends.we lived in the suburb of Washington called Redmond -wealthy affluent, conservative. (hey, It was about the Lake Washington school district!)  Alas, the people are highly educated and civilised in our country (pretentious) that they did things like pelt bottles at him, whilst driving sometimes yelling KILLER!  Soon after our family faced a another unique  set of challenges when two of his childhood friends killed a Bellvue,Wa family in a brutal manner with swords. My son was overwhelmed with shock when looking down at the paper his friends mug shots where emblazoned across the local paper. After all he new both the assailants as well as all of the victims.(they all attended the same middle school.) I was beside myself  I knew those boys, always making it a point to know my children friends.My baby boy, (the oldest) became very depressed and I knew he needed a shrink.At the time I could not afford one. I worked hard researching and eventually found an organization for youth which worked on a on a sliding scale. Being that they were a youth organization, one would think they had therapists who understood the adolescent mind. I did. I saw two dynamics occurring: Locally and nationally the media was feeding on fears, creating new fears out of our phobias.  Columbine had just happened, now anger-fueled with hatred was focused at my son. He was not allowed to process and grieve the end of his friendship. I tried talking to him, letting him know he was allowed to love them and miss them, for even though we hated what they did, his memories were of walking around in the night dressed like the Crow, having bonfires on the beach, feeling cool, having fun, making memories- laughing and bonding like boys do. These were his memories.


A family was brutally killed and everyone wanted to believe that these kids were only killers, no past but this was not abnormal, given the circumstance. Just another Columbine styled rage,youth wearing black trench coats, killing.  My first born, I had at 15, I feel for him as I study grief and death, did volunteer hospice and A.I.D.S work; hell, I read Elizabeth Kubler -Ross. My boy, he needed an outside perspective in order to be real and honest and to feel like he was heard. As parents,we tend to think we always know best but guess what? Sometimes it just isn't true and we have no clue at all! It is okay to have no idea how to handle a situation~ and that is when you look for someone who does. So, we headed to the youth center to and hurry up and wait. The therapist came out and asked us both to come in (fine with me I understand this therapy world and its boundaries can be quite loose.) Well, the first thing I notice is a big video cam she has set up on a tripod, ha. Immediately she goes into this speech that she is pioneering this new technique, and would Kain and I (I?) be willing to let her tape us, he said okay. I sighed in disdain giving him the look of "up to you, but next time don't answer so fast" She than asks me to leave the room, he is 16, so I say "are you comfortable with that?" he nods. I leave, wait about 12 or less minutes, before I am called in. In a short moment with Kain he looks at me incredulously and quickly says "this is sooo lame!" I enter with trepidation, trusting my son, I'm already feeling a defensive stance come over me. She take's off her sweater and rolls it into an embryo like ball and precedes to tell me to pretend this is a baby. At this point I'm deeply pondering who needs the therapy. She next instructs me to hold it in my arms via baby style. I try not to look at her as dumbfounded as I feel. Forcing a grimace of a smile I hesitantly say, "uhhh-okay" I hold this sweater baby, thanking god I'm not on film and in the same moment feeling sadness, humour and despair for my son and inhaling her cheap perfume. She instructs me to tell the baby " I love you" I look at the balled up fabric, killing myself not to laugh, actually biting my lips hoping the pain would restrain me. "I can't do it" I blurted out along with a deep inhale of life giving oxygen. She responds,"do you know why you can't?" she has now entered the danger zone... "because its dumb?' I say questioningly. "No because the baby is you and you don't love yourself!" she injects. The next week I found a qualified adolescent psychologist, when one day I got a call, it was the nameless sweater-loving doctor, aka therapist,life coach,- whatever the hell she was! She wanted to inform me that during the video taping of Kain 'sharing love' of her sweater,it seems that  every time   she was looking at her notes and at  the wall, that my son would flip off the camera! Not just once or twice.... a gleam of delight welled up in my heart as I thought "that's my boy, throwing the finger to 'the real crazy lady,' not letting get him too down. He still had it in him, survival skills and a sense of humor as much as I could hope for at the time.Later the new licensed Dr. explained Kain was just asserting himself, how  he felt about this new therapy, perhaps it could be studied for years to come...OR NOT! I would love to hear your experiences with mental health people, good and bad- so we can help others.