"People of Earth.... How are you?"
Welcome to Lady Fleabag, the musings and rants of world citizen Marni Hills. Here you can come to find daily musings, travel stories, dog and pet pictures and products, handmade gifts, crafts, jewelry and accessories, photography, creative writing, trend spotting, and much much more.

Please check back often, or better yet, sign up for email updates so you wont miss a thing!

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Daily Dose of Dementia-- Day One--Monday Oct. 1, 2012

Its been a while since I've taken the LA subway-- I'm taking it to work for a week downtown and it has gained in popularity since the last time I rode (maybe more than 2 years ago?) and now has almost as many mentals as the NY subways!  Or at least enough to keep me entertained.  (Is that right word?  "Occupied"? "Engaged"?, I'm not sure) But you know how children or people who have different or more open functioning brains than the rest of us can see some kind of aura around people and run right in a bee line to it?  That's me with homeless mentally ill.  I swear, I don't do ANYTHING to encourage or insight this behavior, I hear some yelling and look in that general direction and that person IMMEDIATELY sees me and heads right for me.  I think to myself, okay, whats this one going to be like.  

As you may know about me,  I worked for 4 years both in Chicago and NYC with the homeless mentally ill in a day program that helped them get jobs through internships in mail rooms, helping them function on their own, get off drugs, get apartments, go shopping, just learn everyday living.  In the "methodology" of these rehabs "Thresholds" in Chicago and "Fountain House" in NYC, (you can look it up), the staff and the "members" of the clubhouse are all equal, we all work together, there is no "Patient vs. therapist" type of mentality-- which made it all the more f'd up day to day.  the "clubhouse" was what they called the day center.  I wrote proposals to rich corporations, individuals, and trusts, for funding, I was not a social worker, but I still was exposed to daily visits from the members and their particular bents.  Some were so engaging and affable that I could not wait to see them each day (say this in a Tiny Tim accent), "Oh, Miss Marni, will you be attending the Harvest Moon Ball this evening?"  (there was no harvest moon ball) but I replied eagerly "Yes, I've picked out my dress and  shoes and its going to be wonderful!"  He replied "Well, if your dance card isn't filled, I would love to dance with you this evening...." I said "That would be wonderful." and he wandered out and never remembered the conversation even happened.  In fact that same conversation would happen several times a month.
Some were so abused and tortured and brain damaged that it physically hurt me to see them.  (one young man's mother smashed half of his head in with a frying pan and threw him down the garbage shoot when he was young).  He still had half of his skull missing, like a half moon head,  and I suppose all of his sanity was gone with it.  He was a violent, angry personality.  Who could fault him.  
My job was to write proposals for funding.  I wrote specialty proposals for the deaf homeless mentally ill, the blind homeless mentally ill, the deaf AND blind mentally ill, the handicapped mentally ill-- can you imagine? There was a huge release of mentally ill patients into the gen pop in the mid 90's because of lack of funding that forced all these poor people into the streets with no where to go......

ANYWAY---

That is the back story as to why I think these current LA subway mentals gravitate toward me like some bright orange sun aura is radiating from me that says "I know you, I know whats wrong with you, it doesn't scare me, I will talk to you with no fear" or something like that.

Monday, Oct. 1st.

So a large pendulous breasted black woman on the train kept writing furiously on a paper on a clipboard and holding it up, showing it to everyone, I thought she was showing it to the crowds of people.  I said calmly and with interest "What are you doing?"  She said "I'm showing this to all the cameras so they can see how I'm being treated and abused, and that I was thrown off the train" etc.. etc.. (lunatic ravings of a paranoid dis-associative personality.)  I said well, I am pretty sure the cameras cannot pick up your writing if its that small, because I can hardly see it and I'm sitting right in front of you. 
"Oh YEAH?" she says combatively.
"yes".
So she goes back to writing again and this time comes back with huge printing "People say they cant read my writing so I'm making it bigger so all the cameras can pick it up too".
"thank you for the tip" she says to me
"No problem" I say without a hint of sarcasm or mocking.

People look at me like I'm just as crazy as she is.  Hey, just cause you're crazy and paranoid doesn't mean someones not following you!!!!  The mentals at Fountain House in NYC spoke some very insightful truths among the gibberish of word salads they spat out every day to me.

She continued until her stop and got off.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Talk to us!