TheBanyanTree: Seeing the judge

[Monique Young]

Stew's seeing the judge today. After countless months of dealing with the
issue of disability, which has been denied over and over again, his case is
now in front of a judge, who wishes to talk to the person in question in
person, personally. The person in question has been majorly stressed over
this upcoming event because it's bad enough to have these issues and not be
believed and then to have to prove to some judge that yes, indeed, one is
mentally ill and prove your point while being medicated, which is when one
is much better, though no medication can counteract the impending stress of
having to explain this to a judge. The attorney's greatest fear? Stew might
appear "too normal." Goodness, we can't have that. So he stopped taking his
meds yesterday, at a time when meds are extremely important to prevent
things like, oh, I don't know, a psychotic break? Granted, it's been years
since one of those has made its appearance, but all the same, it is not
without the realm of possibility. Even with the meds he had to resort to
activities he hasn't resorted to in quite a long time, such as cutting.
Well, specifically, cutting. Thirteen fresh clean slashes for the judge to
see. I say, "Well, it certainly can't hurt your case," being the pragmatist
I am. So by the time he goes in to see the judge, which event has been
weighing on him heavily for the past month or two, he has an opportunity to
delve back into the depths of anxiety, depression, madness that he's tried
to leave behind. 

 

I spent hours with him last night, countering the worst case scenarios,
reassuring, showing him how the worst that can happen is still not as bad as
the worst case scenarios he has conjured, but rational thought is not always
easily obtained. In a few hours he sees the judge. Should the judge still
not see, despite the letters from doctors and therapists who proclaim him
profoundly disabled and the presence of the person in question himself, a
person in need of assistance, there's still the appeal process. I don't know
how much more he can take, however, of this sort of thing, of being told
that despite his mental illness he should still be out there functioning as
the rest of us do because he is, after all, intelligent, so what's the
problem? Take your meds, live a normal life. If only it were that easy. He's
moved back from the precipice a bit, but he's still closer to the edge than
most of us can imagine, and he may always be. He'll continue to do his best
to be productive and useful, but his best may not be the same as society's
definition of best. 

 

We await and we hope that he doesn't have to continue going through this
particular process, because there are many more processes in his future
which will be difficult enough. Perhaps this one can be laid to rest so he
can face the next challenge, which is sure to be right around the corner.
They always are, sneaking in when we least expect it, sharp little tentacles
of challenge, and what does not kill us makes us stronger, but what if it
does kill us? We don't speak of that - we treat that possibility as an
impossibility because if we are worthy we are certain of success, aren't we?


 

The best time to seek help is when one is healthy and strong and able to
withstand the stress, the humiliation, the rejection, the negative attitudes
that seep out like a poison. Of course, when one is healthy and strong, one
does not need this process, so that's a moot point. 

 

Just a few more hours.