My wife and I have been truly fortunate despite COVID-19. We are well. We have jobs that help others. (She as a nurse case manager. Me as a grocery clerk.) We pay our bills. There is food on the table.
Nevertheless, there are many who are not as fortunate as we are, but I am not happy. I have a different illness, one that does not garner sympathy. People do not understand that those who are in psychiatric hospitals and many of those in prisons have brain illnesses. I get this way every year as my court review date draws near. The judge has made it clear that she will never let me go because I have schizophrenia which is, as she says, incurable. This does not address the medical issues. In this situation the news does not support me, does not fight for me – fight for us who are caught in this situation. Would they do that to one who has heart disease or diabetes? Except for a precious few, they and others ignore us. I know this firsthand. Who will tell our stories for the sake of our children? As for me I wrote a book for them.
All that I have done in my life, then, has all been done for naught – my scholarships, my professional accomplishments, and my awards. I can get a job only if I do not tell the employer about my court involvement. I tell them that I have an illness. I asked the court what they are going to do to help me through this re-entry into society, and there was no answer. My judge went one step farther and took my two adult children away from me because I was sending them Hallmark cards once per month.
Despite all of this I make some small donations to Doctors without Borders, Inner-city Scholarship Fund, and Paulist Prison Ministries in the hope they will make a difference. You may want to give to SARDAA.
Read my book. You will understand.