Have you ever seen the "clown car" at the circus, when the clowns come out of something like a Volkswagen and they keep coming and coming and coming out the door--a parade of clowns flowing out, one after another? You know, a ridiculous number of clowns emerging from a tiny car? I want you to keep that vision in mind.
Now, I want you to think about what a person with schizophrenia looks like. What's the first thing that comes to mind?
Okay, now I am going to put the clown car and schizophrenia together. How's that for an unusual blog? Stay with me. It'll be all right and no disrespect will be bestowed upon clowns or persons with schizophrenia. (Well, maybe on the clowns. I'm not a fan.)
I asked what you think of when you hear schizophrenia. I'm guessing some of you thought "psycho mass murderer" or "mentally retarded scary weirdo who is a danger to society." Perhaps you envisioned a homeless person, disheveled and talking to themselves. I highly doubt you pictured your accountant doing your taxes or the guy mowing your lawn.
The media tends to display the mentally ill as dangerous, unpredictable, damaged, hopeless. They don't show the person, the hope, the laughter, the antics, the gentle kindness, the normal. Because, there is lots of normal mixed in with the facets of the illness. Besides, there are accountants with schizophrenia and lawn guys with schizophrenia and neighbors with schizophrenia.....
I want you to laugh with me today in regards to the fun and antics of a particular episode from last week. I want to make sure your vision of a person with schizophrenia is more than psycho mass murderer. I want you to understand that what you see on TV is such an awful representation of mental illness; for every one person that makes the news, there are thousands more that aren't doing anything meriting media coverage.
So, picture me at the State Capitol with a group of people. The group happens to be comprised of those with mental illness-those that I serve at my job. We are at the State Capitol to take part in a mental health rally. I am standing with a man who happens to have schizophrenia. To be honest, if anyone can "look" like someone with schizophrenia, he is the guy. He's got three layers of clothing on, despite it being 80 degrees outside. He's laughing to himself and he's talking to a dog of which I cannot see.
He's friendly, gentle, kind. You'd like him. He has a great sense of humor and a good heart.
In order to get into the Capitol, one must go through security. Nothing out of the norm with that. I direct this fine young man to remove his cell phone and keys from his pockets so he can go through the metal detector. I inquire if he has anything else metal with him. He pulls out a set of silverware--metal knife, fork and spoon--and places them with his phone and keys. When asked why he has silverware in his pocket, he doesn't miss a beat. He says, "well, I have to eat lunch."
He walks through the metal detector. Buzzzzzz.
He pulls a metal lighter out of his pocket and again walks through the metal detector. Buzzzzz.
He pulls a bunch of change out of his pocket and again walks through the metal detector. Buzzzzz.
As we are now holding up the line, one of the officers asks him to step aside. The officer uses his wand to determine if the client has items of which could potentially be inappropriate for a visit to the Capitol (read: something dangerous). Buzzzzzzzz.
So, the man with three layers of clothing--this friendly, gentle and kind man--starts emptying his pockets. And, emptying and emptying and emptying his pockets.
This is where the clown car meets schizophrenia.
"My" man lines up the contents of his pockets on the counter, all the while the officer watching. He pulls out a wine cork.... some plastic lighters.... a calendar from 2011 (yes, 2011)... a red plastic ball... a toothbrush still in the package... a rain poncho... two empty water bottles... toothpaste... an empty eye glass holder... dental floss (guess he was planning on excellent oral hygiene during this trip)... his second of two wallets... cigarettes... the stuff went on and one.
He laughed and without prompting indicated, "I have a hollow leg--that's where I keep all this stuff."
Thankfully, the officer knew there was a mental health rally and that lots of people with serious mental illness where on the grounds. The officer remained polite, patient, appropriately amused. It WAS funny, after all.
As my guy is emptying his pockets, I ask why he has a red rubber ball. He answers, I kid you not, "to put in my butt."
(He knows me well and knows that I would love it if he said something like it was for putting in his butt. He was totally goofing around. Although the media doesn't tell you, people with schizophrenia can have a wonderful a sense of humor.)
He laughed more and then admitted the red rubber ball was for his dog (the dog of which I cannot see but is real enough to him). Makes sense, when you think about it.
It was like the clowns coming out of the car at the circus--the stuff just coming and coming and coming out of his pockets. I'm still in awe in regards to all the things that guy had in his pockets. Thank God he was wearing a belt, as I don't think he could've kept those pants on without it securely fastened. I'm not even sure how he could walk with all that crap he was carrying.
It took five full minutes for him to empty those pockets. I'm not sure he ever fully emptied them--I think there were a few clowns left in the car--but it was good enough that he finally didn't buzzzzzzz when checked with the wand. It took a bit longer to get everything back into the pockets.
He saved the silverware for last.... After all, he said, it was almost time for lunch.
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So, THAT is the picture I want you to have. I hope you envision kind, gentle, funny when you think of schizophrenia, not another psycho mass murderer on the evening news. I hope you think of clowns exiting the car and a guy emptying out his pockets for a full five minutes. I want you to laugh WITH, not at, someone with schizophrenia. I hope you recognize why a red rubber ball makes sense as those clowns are spewing out of the impossibly small car.
I wish for you to understand why I love going to work every single day.
So laugh aloud when thinking of a guy with Schizophrenia telling me he has a red ball in his pocket so he can put it in his butt. It's really funny. Laugh with us. Life's too short not to laugh at something that smarty-pants silly.
And, I hope you, too carry a set of silverware when you know it's almost time for lunch.
After all, it makes sense, invisible dog with a red ball or not.
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