We Are Not Alone (Mental Illness), 2000, by Dave Walker
From MemoryArchive
Who: Dave Walker What: We Are Not Alone (Surviving Mental Illness) When: 1970s-90s Where: USA
I was born in a house in Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn, at 379a Hancock Street in 1939. Four years later my parents bought a house at 867 Greene Avenue in Bedford Stuyvesant, and opened a Dry Cleaning Business on the corner of Reid Avenue and Greene.
By the time I reached the age of 15 my Dad died from cancer of the spine. Two years later my Mom died of a heart attack in her sleep. I was then 17, and my older sister was 18, and my younger sister was 15. My older sister had just gotten married a few months before my Mom died, so we all stuck together (the way we promised my Mom.) Several months later I joined the Marine Corps.
My younger sister completed High School and went on to become a Licensed Practical Nurse (thanks to my older sister and her husband Bob who had just become a Policeman). She has now been a Nurse for about forty-three years. My older sister and her husband went on to raise and send two sons to the University of Pittsburgh, my Nephews are now successful management executives in fortune 500 companies, and my older sister’s husband is now a retired Policeman.
I was 17 when my brother-in-law signed for me to join the Marines. Two years later in 1958 I was assigned to a Special Ops unit to go to Vietnam because of my 130 IQ, my ability to read maps, use a camera, and shoot extremely well. It was a short-term covert action, and we were officially/unofficially Military Advisors. You know the drill; “Should you be discovered, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your existence.”
From a patriotic point of view I am proud to have served my country. From a personal, moral point of view I still have flashbacks about what I had to do to serve my country and stay alive. It wasn’t very pretty. You’ve seen all the Vietnam films. What you don’t know is that 52,000 were killed in action, but 60,000 came home and then committed suicide because they found it hard to live with what they did to survive.
I have been diagnosed as a Bi-Polar Manic Depressive with a Dysthymia Disorder. Upon coming home from Vietnam late in 1958 some 10 years before our troops were officially/legally deployed in Vietnam I settled into the civilian way of life and made the necessary adjustments and everything seemed to be fine. Then after my second marriage failed in 1969 I found myself dangling from the Golden Gate Bridge at about 3:00 am one morning with two strangers (one a cop) clinging to me to keep me from falling. The Golden Gate Bridge incident was actually my second suicide attempt during my second marriage. These incidents both took place in 1969.
Since then I have married twice more, both ending in divorce. My last marriage ended in 1995 after 23 years. During those 23 years I spent the last 13 years working for a local University. First, as University Photographer, then as Supervisor of Computer operations, at which time I earned an Associates degree in Business, and also managed to put my wife and our two son’s through School. My oldest has a two-year Liberal Arts Degree, and is now a chef. My youngest son has a BS in Computer Science and works for a local firm in Midtown Manhattan as a Network Administrator. My Ex-Wife is an Administrative Registered Nurse employed at one of the local VA Hospitals. She and I have managed to stay in touch and we’re on friendly terms.
In 1995, I was downsized along with thousands of other people in this country over the age of 55. At first I took it as a joke because I have many skills. I am a trained Psychiatric Technician in the State of California, and also a Trained Hospital Surgical Orderly. In addition in High School I majored in Electrical Engineering and took four years of Drafting. For about a year I worked as a Technical Illustrator. I am also a Photographer, and a Computer Professional.
However, back in 1995 the only thing that mattered to employers was youth and the willingness to work part-time for less money and no benefits. In this way my ex-employer was able to take my salary and employ four younger employees, and get more productivity. This is good bottom-line thinking, and solid economic theory in practice.
With $17,000 dollars in my pocket, and my two sons living out of the home in college dorms I felt that this was a good time for me to walk away from a loveless marriage. I was also getting $275.00 per week for the next six months from unemployment. The six months went by fast, but I still had a nice amount of money in the bank. It finally ran out within a year and a half. I ended up living on the subway for another year and a half.
I had made preparations for the move to the Subway. I bought a suitcase on wheels, and took pieces of cardboard and made separate compartments inside. (Before Samsonite came up with the idea!) I made shelves for socks, underwear, shoes, toiletries, shirts, jeans, and large baby wipes, for instant showers. I also had an electric razor, which I used daily at the Supreme Court Building at 345 Adams Street Brooklyn. In the men’s room there are electrical sockets under the mirrors for the lawyers to plug in their razors for a quick shave.
I used the wheelchair stall to step into (because of it’s size) to take my instant shower with large baby wipes, and then change my clothes, shave, then a wisp of cologne, place my soiled clothes into my laundry bag and then I’m off to ride the rails. Looking clean and decent, and freshly shaved, and washed, nobody ever mistook me for a homeless person. Twice a week I would stop by my younger sister’s house, take a shower, and she’d wash my soiled clothes, and then feed me. She wanted to do more, but she couldn’t because of marital problems. My older sister and her husband rumbled around in their now empty nest out on Long Island as though I didn’t exist. A person with family should never have to be homeless.
Finally, late in 1996 I found a job as a security guard making less than minimum wage. It allowed me to eat three meals a day, and pay for my rides on the train instead of jumping the turnstiles, but it still didn’t allow me enough money to pay for a room or apartment.
I worked from 11:00 pm until 7:00 am. In the daytime I stayed in Borough Hall Park in Brooklyn. There were always people there, lawyers and clients, people taking their coffee breaks, vendors, and finally the lunch-time crowd. I followed the sun from bench to bench until the Sun went down behind the buildings at 4:00 pm. Then I’d ride the rails until 10:45 then get off and go to work.
Depression set in around October 1996. As I was later told, (in the VA Hospital) someone stopped me from jumping in front of a moving train. After checking my ID they found out that I was a Veteran and whisked me off to the VA Hospital, and there I stayed on a locked ward for the next month. In December, I was shown an Adult Home, I liked it and this is where I have lived ever since in Bensonhurst.
I went through a VA Outpatient Program for four months and since then I have been on my own. From time to time I sell my Paintings on the street for extra money. To date I’ve made about $4,000 from street sales over the past four years. I get disability checks from Social Security, and also a 50% disability check from the VA.
Until a month ago I had all but given up the hope of ever working again, and then I met the Patron Saint of People with Mental Disabilities, Mr. Isaac Brown. A Jewish Saint? Isaac Brown is living proof that you don’t have to be Catholic to be a Saint.
Calling a Jew a Saint may seem strange, but I mean it with a deep and abiding amount of admiration and respect. For many years I’ve held most Jewish people in very high esteem since I personally saw the tremendous amount of work they put into getting the 1964 Civil Rights Bill Passed. For without Jewish people, (and other White people) there would be no Civil Rights Bill. The truth is that at every Civil rights Demonstration I went to back in those days, for every Afro-American present there were three whites, and the majority of the whites (the men) wore yarmulkes, and their womenfolk marched proudly hand in hand with them. What a shame we have no National Black Leadership to keep the record straight and keep the younger generations of all races informed about these facts.
Mr. Isaac Brown and his unique program have given me a new lease on life. I am now working, and utilizing the skills, which I have acquired over the years, and I now feel like a productive person again. I started out at Baltic Street as a peer Advocate supervisor running self help groups. Because of my experience I am now program Supervisor of the Canarsie Elder Care Unit. The best thing about my work is that I am helping others who like me need understanding and someone who believes in them. Isaac Brown, through the Peer Advocacy Program gives us all the motivation to put our best foot forward and help to motivate other consumers.
We help other consumers to find employment in non-stress situations with employers who understand their disability, and do their best to accommodate them, and help them to feel comfortable in their new work environment. We also help people in the area of housing, getting Social Security benefits, in some cases Welfare, Food, temporary shelter, health-care, basic education, skills training, and psychiatric help. My one wish for the future is that eventually the concept of our program will be expanded first throughout the five boroughs, and then throughout the Tri-State Area.
The best part of my job is when a consumer comes into our offices looking for help. We then empower them to walk back out through our doors shoulders erect, with information, which enables them to begin a partnership with us in which we work together to find a solution to their problems. This is the beauty of empowerment, and it is the perfect example of the old parable, “Give me a fish and I’ll eat for a day. Teach me to fish and I will never go hungry.”
Reproduced with permission from New York City Voices, where you will also find more information about recovery.
