Tag: caregiving

Like Him or Hate Him, Elon Musk Is Right About Something

On By mikegaetaLeave a comment

“The essence of totalitarian government, and perhaps the nature of every bureaucracy, is to make functionaries and mere cogs in the administrative machinery out of men, and thus to dehumanize them.” – Philosopher, Hanna Arendt

Donald Trump and Elon Musk have captured headlines with their brazen attacks on various federal departments and programs. In the name of “cutting waste and targeting fraud and bureaucracy,” thousands of federal workers are being laid off, funding has been frozen and cut off to various programs, and the Department of Education has already been singled out for elimination altogether.

(Source: Getty Images)

Musk even recently boasted about all of this by swinging around a chainsaw at a recent CPAC meeting.

There are of course legitimate and persuasive legal, political and even ethical arguments in opposition to what President Trump and Musk are doing, but something important is being missed in the debate. Much, if not most, of the functioning and management of our government have been disgraceful. Albeit, from different vantage points, much of the public knows this too.

In a larger political sense, what President Trump and Musk are doing is bringing a reckoning to our government system. I, for one, think it’s long overdue. Can I have a chainsaw too?!

Cold, Impersonal Bureaucracies

Musk has been explicit about how tyrannical government bureaucracy is. I’d have to largely agree with him, in a particular sense anyways. Bureaucrats are often impersonal and demeaning as hell. This translates to agencies and services, that they are responsible for administering, that are inadequate and demeaning as hell. Two examples will suffice to help make the point.

The first one involves when I first moved my mom in with me in 2016. I desperately needed to enroll my mom into the county mental health program for seniors. Being on Medi-Cal at the time, we had to wait months for Medi-Cal to be transferred from Kern County, where she previously lived, to Stanislaus County, where we resided.

What was supposed to take thirty days took more than sixty. My mom was suffering from her untreated serious mental illness (SMI). I was stressed out. We were indigent, her being on her SSI and me from taking a leave from my job. When I called the county office for what was probably the third time, I sternly admonished the case worker, after she told me the transfer was done, but not active yet.

I indignantly said, “Why don’t you press some damn buttons and make it active or let me talk to your supervisor?” I heard her press some keys on her keyboard and moments later, she told me, “OK. It’s done.” I shouldn’t have had to make that call. We shouldn’t have had to wait so long.

The second one involves my frustration in trying to get adequate pay for being my mother’s caregiver. For the sake of brevity, just know that Medi-Cal, or what’s called In-Home-Support-Services (IHSS), doesn’t pay much for caregiving. A big reason for that is because they severely limit how many hours they pay for each “caregiving duty.”  

Me and my mom.

To be able “to live” off caregiving, to get paid for 40 hours of work in other words, one must be approved for “protective supervision” duties. Disability Rights California describes it the following way: “Protective supervision is an IHSS service for people who, due to a mental impairment or mental illness, need to be observed 24 hours per day to protect them from injuries, hazards, or accidents.”

My mom suffered from an untreated serious mental illness and would regularly jeopardize her safety and well-being unwittingly. The social worker who interviewed me, however, contorted everything I said, when I gave her examples of what I had to do for my mom, to fit what was clearly a predetermined, disqualifying narrative or script.

When I said I’d have to dissuade my mom from going outside to argue with and/or harass the neighbors, the social worker took that as my mom not needing protective supervision. To the social worker, that was proof “my mom listened to me.” To that, I said, “Well, if she doesn’t listen, then I have to physically try to stop her,” the social worker ignored that part entirely. And what did my mom possibly listening to me have to do with anything? My mom was severely impaired, regardless!

Whether it was that or me having to watch my mom and make sure she wouldn’t leave water running somewhere in the apartment or leave the stove on. Or whether it was having to watch and make sure my mom didn’t throw any of our belongings or her medications away, destroy property, or whether it was waking up multiple times during the night to check on my mom and keep her safe from what she believed were “spiritual attacks,” the conclusion the social worker drew was the same. “So cause your mom listens to you, she doesn’t need protective supervision.” To this, I stated, “Ummm…no. The way I see it. I’m already providing protective supervision and you aren’t paying me for it.”

Needless to say, the county ruled my mom didn’t qualify for protective supervision and I would have my modest savings depleted, as a result. Social worker? Yea right. To me, the woman lost her compassion and care for the people she was supposed to help a long time ago. Instead, she saw my mom as an expense to be avoided. Like an automaton, she advanced the priorities of an unresponsive bureaucracy and was carrying out tasks as if she was programmed.

Indifference and Negligence All Around

County programs and facilities weren’t the only places I experienced gross problems. Hospitals, in one case a private one, were plenty abusive towards and neglectful of my mom. They regularly would try to discharge her prematurely, when she wasn’t even medically stabilized, and would let her or help her leave, despite her being in an acute psychotic state.

Plenty of these times happened in front of me, when I was there acting as her caregiver and “next of kin.” This neglectful and abusive behavior was even more frequent when I wasn’t there, when she was living hundreds of miles away from me. Looking over years of her medical history records showed it being a regular pattern, actually.

President Trump and Elon Musk like to talk about “waste.” Literally, taxpayer money was “wasted,” since my mom would just end up returning after being released from leaving a hospital. She wasn’t stabilized, so her condition would just exacerbate again. It was like a revolving door and got to the point where she was being admitted to hospital emergency rooms, on average, one to two times a month.

Elon Musk (and President Trump by extension) is questioning the value and work ethic of federal workers. Well, I question the value and work ethic of many healthcare workers. I have witnessed firsthand many act unprofessionally and unethically, and many simply aren’t very good at their jobs.

Case in point; towards the end of her life, my mom was hospitalized, after she stopped going to dialysis. A hospital social worker came by the hospital to talk to us and, upon me mentioning I worked in San Francisco, the social worker started commenting on how much San Francisco, in her own words, “smells like pee and is so dirty.”  I’m trying to have a serious conversation about my mom’s fragile health and this is what she says?!  

Minutes into talking about my mom’s psychiatric history, my mom’s kidney doctor walks in and straight up asked the social worker, who had the authority to determine a patient’s mental capacity, if my mom could make decisions for herself. Without even talking to my mom, who happened to be sleeping just a few feet away from us, the social worker said, “No because she has a serious mental illness and is not competent enough.” At that point, I was put in charge of my mom’s medical care.

I was relieved and grateful for that, since my mom didn’t have capacity, but the social worker didn’t follow hospital protocol. In fact, when she brought me a document to sign, giving me decision-making authority, she said, “Your mom has the Right to reverse the decision to put her in hospice care.” I knew what she was saying was untrue and felt like she was just trying to “cover her ass” if need be. I looked at her straight in the face and said, “No she doesn’t. Her doctor was right there as a witness and heard what you determined.”

“Burn It All Down”

So let’s be real. It’s not just the federal agencies and departments that are the problem. State and county governments share the blame and private industry does as well. Given that, I propose 25% of mental health care workers, both government and nongovernment employees, be fired! (Why shouldn’t I be taken as serious as Musk?) And what’s the point of having mental health services and laws available if they aren’t even going to be used to actually help people? As my mom’s kidney doctor said, “Your mom needs psychiatric treatment.” “No shit, doctor!” I exclaimed.

Authorities and healthcare workers should have been more honest and just told me the system isn’t setup to help my mom, instead of trying to give me advice or pretending like there’s actual care. For example, I was explicitly told by a Behavioral Health administrator that they could do more for my mom if she became homeless. Well, she did become homeless, living in a car, and they still didn’t do shit! In fact, a government worker with the California Department of Health told me my mom “technically has a roof over her head” cause she was living in car. Fuck the system all to hell!!!!!  Who is with me?!!!!!

(My solutions are different than Trump’s and Musk’s. Stay tuned for part II…..maybe.)

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Dealing with Adversity: Aikido, On and Off the Mat (Part III)

On By mikegaeta1 Comment

(This is part three of a three part series. Here is Part I and Part II)

And this is to say nothing of how hard it was for me and my mom to find collaboration and harmony between us. She actually did not believe she was really ill. She thought satanic forces were responsible for her deteriorating health.

An image of Jesus my mom had in her bedroom

She, also, heard and conversed with voices around 80% of the time. Some of those voices she said were “evil voices” and some of those voices she said were biblical figures. One, she even believed was God’s. Between me and what she believed was “God’s voice”, who was she going to listen to when “the voice of God”was telling her one thing and I was telling her something different?

These conflicts could happen over mundane matters, like when shopping for clothes, or life and death matters like when she would stop taking her medications and put her life at risk. As her health deteriorated, my mom became more critical about living with me too. Sadly, I would come to consider a day of minimal talking between us to be a “good day.” This was no way for us to be living.

My Mom Was a Black Belt Before I Was

My mom would reach a point in 2015 where she would be hospitalized at least once a month, due to her declining health. Thankfully, the frequent hospitalizations would cease once she moved in with me in 2016. Somehow, in no small part due to persuasion and pressure from me, she would agree to adhere to enough of her treatments for her physical ailments to stabilize. Her kidney disease would still continue to worsen, however.

In February 2018, my mom would succumb to her kidney disease, sadly. As heart breaking as the entire ordeal was, it was a testament of her resiliency and fortitude that my mom did not take her own life. According to research, people with severe mental illness have a suicide rate 20 times higher than the general population. I dared not ask my mom, because it would have caused me more anguish and pain, but I am sure that the “evil voices” told my mom she should kill herself. She would tell me, at times, other denigrating and threatening things they would say to her, after all.

My mom suffered immensely, an unimaginable amount, but she was a warrior, through and through. She wanted nothing more than to reconcile with her family and, rather than be estranged from her family, to live with family, particularly me or my sister.  She fought every day against “the dark forces” that she believed were responsible for her situation and trying to harm her and even kill her.

When I received my black belt, a lot of people, including my first Sensei, Penny Sablove, told me how proud they were of me, since it showed a lot of resilience and fortitude on my part. My training was derailed and even put on hold for several years, due to my family situation, but I persevered. This paled in comparison with what my mom went though, though.

My black belt and hakama on my mom’s chair

Thus, since receiving my black belt, I regularly place my black belt and my folded aikido hakama on her chair, the one she bought shortly after moving in with me, in honor of her and to collect her ki. I told her when I first placed them there: “You were a black belt too, mama. You earned yours before I did.”

As I have explained, aikido is in essence about finding harmony, and I did that in trying to help and take care of my mom the best I could. The disappointments, traumas and real instances of discrimination, neglect and maltreatment did not allow for much “ai-ki”, however. In those instances, to just “accept” or “look for the positive in the negative”, as some simplistic adages go, would have been tantamount to accepting gross injustice and even oppression. No, in such situations, more assertive aikido is necessary and “incapacitating” an attacker might be the only option in them.

What remains the same, though, in this “style of aikido”, what was present in what I did for my mom was to lead with LOVE. That included the times when I had to make decisions in her “best interest”, the hardest one being when I had to decide to put her into hospice care.

That LOVE helps me live in the aftermath, as well, as I know it got me through what was an impossible situation in caretaking. Without those last two years of my mom, I honestly do not think I could live with myself. My mom would have died estranged from her family and in a hospital or in the streets alone. The grief from that would have been unbearable.

Aikido has shown me there is a better way to live and how to live with one’s principles and integrity intact. I can only hope others are finding it as transformative for them as it has been for me.

“The true meaning of the ‘samurai’ is one who serves and adheres to the power of love.” ― Morihei Ueshiba, The Founder of Aikido

Dealing with Adversity: Aikido, On and Off the Mat (Part II)

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(This is Part II, to a three part article. You can find Part 1 here: Part 1)

In plain language, I was getting my ass kicked, as if three ukes during randori were successful in tackling me and taking me to the ground. It was an ugly feeling and I knew that something had to change. I decided to take a leave from my teaching job, in order to get a handle on my health…and to find my balance. I moved in with my dad, back to my hometown of Fresno, CA, and used the time off work to get ample rest and do things that I enjoyed.  

My dad and I dressed up to watch a show.

I went fishing as much as I could, exercised at the gym a few days a week, meditated, trained at the local Aikido dojo and made sure to take naps. I, also, enjoyed being around my family more. In fact, it was the first time, since I moved away from college, I was able to spend regular quality time with my dad. While I felt guilty about it at the time, I didn’t spend a lot of time with my mom, however. Being around her was just too stressful and sad.

After what would be a six-month break, I gained my weight back and my panic attacks even stopped. I had stopped taking the anti-depressant I was prescribed before I took my leave, since I didn’t think it was working well enough. I was hoping time off work and doing adequate self-care would be more effective in helping me and I was right! I promised myself I would never get as overwhelmed ever again.

2013 arrived and I was back working and living in the Bay Area. Fortunately, for my family, my mom would find regular housing, however temporary, starting that year. This would reduce my stress of course, but there would still be plenty of crises times and they would take a myriad of forms.

As I had been doing for years already, I talked to my mom almost every day to monitor her and express my love and support. My sister and I would drive hundreds of miles to visit her on special occasions, like her birthday, and holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. And I would do my best to advocate for her at times of crises. Trying to get my mom adequate care and treatment at hospitals would become a regular occurrence, as her physical health steadily deteriorated.

In 2013, my mom was hospitalized after experiencing dizzy spells and a possible stroke. I took the four-hour drive to Bakersfield to be by her side. Fortunately, her attending doctor was responsive and assuring. The same can’t be said for the hospital administration, however.

My sister visiting our mom in the hospital.

The attending doctor wanted my mom to start taking insulin. There was one problem with that, though. My mom had recently developed cataracts. She needed assistance, since she was unable to administer insulin shots to herself. To my relief, the attending doctor referred my mom to an assisted living facility, as part of my mom’s treatment plan upon discharge.

The day after I returned to San Francisco, however, my mom told me they hospital was getting ready to discharge her back to her apartment. I was stunned and angered. I called the hospital and asked to speak to the main administrator.

Now, while my aikido training helps teach me stay “centered and relaxed” when dealing with stress and conflict, ultimately, we train in order to avoid conflict and create harmony with things around us. In fact, aikido translates to “the way of harmony with universal energy or spirit.” With aikido training, like in randori, we try to “harmonize” with the energy of the ukes and redirect them in order to minimize harm and produce a better outcome for all parties.

Applied to day-to-day life experiences, this means we should try and find compromise and mutually beneficial arrangements with people we experience conflict with. However, as I’d experience countless times, too many healthcare workers and authority figures were not only indifferent to my family’s plight, but too many were more than willing to jeopardize my mom’s life. They would do this even when it violated their own workplace policies and the law.

Given this, there was no “harmonizing” in these situations, since our interests were so diametrically opposed. I wanted and needed immediate help and support for my mom. Like all human beings, she deserved to be treated with dignity and respect. In contrast, too many healthcare and government workers treated her as an inconvenience, or worse, a drain on their time and society’s resources.

At times, I would assert myself strongly, from day one of a hospitalization, by letting hospital personnel know I wasn’t going to accept premature discharges of my mom. Hospitals had no qualms about doing so.. I’d even threaten hospital personnel, county workers and even the police with lawsuits or negative media attention when they’d refuse to give my mom, or take her in for, proper medical care (I just started filming and recording my interactions with healthcare and governments workers, I got so fed up.).

Sensei Jaime Calderon showing how to use an “atemi.”

Asserting myself in these ways could be seen as forms of escalation, which is not very “aikido like.” In a famous quote, the founder of aikido, Morihei Ueshiba, said, “To injure an opponent is to injure yourself. To control aggression without inflicting injury is the Art of Peace.” I considered things that I did or said as being consistent with aikido principles and values, though. In aikido, we use what are called “atemis.” They are strikes to knock an attacker off balance, in order to create space and the opportunity to execute a technique or throw. When it comes down to “life and death”, I think strong atemis are essential. I delivered strong atemis whenever I could to protect my mom and I didn’t, nor do I still, feel bad about it.

— To Be Continued —

Dealing with Adversity: Aikido, On and Off the Mat (Part I)

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A few months ago, in August, when visiting my extended family in Bakersfield, CA, to my surprise, two of my older cousins asked me to show them some self-defense techniques. I have been practicing Aikido for many years, but they have never asked me to do that before when visiting. The difference is I recently earned a black belt. Being a black belt confers considerable respect it seems.

I indulged my cousins by showing them a few techniques. They especially liked a deflection I showed them off a punch. When Aikido techniques are done proficiently, the force or energy of the “attacker” gets redirected and there is a moment the attacker is off balance and vulnerable. My cousins thought my deflection from a punch was “way cool.”

While Aikido can be used for self-defense, experienced Aikidoka (i.e. Aikido practitioners) know it is more useful than that. Aikido can, also, be used in everyday life. For me, what I went through in trying to support and get help for my gravely disabled mother felt like a marathon version of what we call “randori” in our training.

An Aikido Demonstration of Randori

Randori consists of multiple attackers (the “ukes”) going after one person (the “nage”). The goal of the nage is to avoid being stopped or taken down. The stress and chaos one can experience as nage can be intense. I have trained at some dojos where ukes are expected to run full speed and tackle the nage.

Randori is the most challenging part of Aikido training. Some would say it is “the essence of the training”, as it requires proficiency in many areas of Aikido to be successful. For even a highly skilled black belt, dealing with multiple ukes, typically three or four, constantly attacking gets tiring, physically and mentally. Indeed, seeing my mom’s physical and mental health worsen over the course of many years felt like a pummeling. Some key events will make the point:

  • In 2007, my mom starts having auditory hallucinations and, at times, exclaims to me and other family members that people are inside her apartment and trying to kill her.
  • In 2010, my mom becomes homeless, living in her car, due to not being able to find a rental because of past evictions.
  • In 2012, my mom falls in a bathtub and fractures her back. Shortly before that, she fell down on a staircase, saying “evil spirits” pushed her down.
  • In 2014, my mom’s physical health begins to greatly deteriorate, due to her medical self-neglect. Regular hospitalizations would begin to occur.
  • In 2015, the week of Christmas, my mom would be medically neglected and abused by a hospital in Kern County. Against my wishes, my mom was unsafely discharged, though she was in an acute psychotic state and could not even walk.
  • I moved my mom in with me in 2016 and would leave my teaching job to be her full-time caregiver. That summer, we would find out my mom had kidney disease and her kidneys were functioning at just 30%.

To be successful in randori, a nage must effectively keep their balance, maintain proper posture, and stay calm and relaxed. Seeing my mom suffer and being pretty powerless to help her, despite my best efforts, taught me the importance of being able to do these things in real life.

Keeping Balance and Maintaining Proper Posture

Me, working hard on having proper posture.

In randori, a nage must move decisively and efficiently in dealing with multiple attackers. A stumble or just being knocked off balance can lead to a nage being taken down. One just need think of how important balance must have been for an ancient samurai on a battlefield. Against many enemy samurai, if a samurai lost his balance in battle, his diminished ability to move or respond could prove fatal.

Proper posture means proper alignment and finding and maintaining balance is virtually impossible without it. To help students visualize and feel proper posture, my Sensei likes to say “imagine a vertical line going straight up and down through one’s center, perineum and head.” Another Sensei tells us to “expand our chest and shoulders and drop our tail bones” to find proper posture.

Maintaining balance and proper posture allow nage to perform technique more effectively, since uke’s energy is redirected and shaped by nage. Proper balance and posture, also, allow nage to better see the “lay of the land”, which opens up the choices available to him or her, essentially.

Stay Calm and Relaxed

Aikido is sometimes called “meditation in motion” and for me, that is certainly true. I discovered at the beginning of my training, back in 2009, that I needed to relax my shoulders in order to let “ki” (i.e. energy) an uke was giving me to flow more freely through and around me. Tension or “muscling up” blocks the energy and can even make it easier for an uke to resist and/or use more force against a nage.

If an uke is stronger than the nage, then the nage is obviously going to be at a huge disadvantage if a physical struggle ensues. And regardless of physical differences, in a randori, any moment of struggle between nage and an uke allows the other ukes to get closer and strike or grab the nage. “Freedom of movement” through relaxation is integral for success in randori.

O’Sensei the founder of Aikido, in meditation.

Staying calm and relaxed helps nage be more “present” or “mindful” also. When present, a nage is able to be more attentive and sensitive to his or her surroundings. Indeed, in such a state, the senses are keen and the emotions and even intentions of others are more discernible. From a research paper on “mindfulness”, “The concept of mindfulness….[involves] a highly receptive, nonjudgemental awareness of and attention to whatever is present in the moment – whether pleasant, unpleasant or neutral.”

In terms of execution, a mindful nage is able to make better decisions and act more appropriately, based on the circumstances. Frankly, sometimes the correct response to an uke’s attack can be “soft” and other times it can be “hard.” The nage needs to be able to respond with each and, also, discern when each is appropriate.

Aikido in The Real World

I am pretty proud of my aikido in everyday life today, but there have been numerous times when I have been overwhelmed and distraught in the past. Nobody will be surprised to learn that I ended up hitting some very rough patches, or low points, particularly when my mom was homeless for two years living in her car

Between 2007, when I first started trying to get help for my mom, and 2012, when my mom was in her second year of being homeless, I consumed too much alcohol, had trouble sleeping, had bouts of high blood pressure and started experiencing panic attacks. The stress and worry were too much for me. My doctor would eventually recommend taking an anti-depressant. I vividly remember taking the medication for the first time. As I looked at the pill in the palm of my hand, I thought “I can’t believe I’m taking a psychiatric drug before my mom is.”

–To be continued–

5 Years Have Gone By (Video Tribute)

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Two weeks ago, Monday, February 27, was the fifth anniversary of my mother’s passing. It’s a bit surreal, really. It doesn’t feel like five years. It feels more like two. The first year, after she passed, I was definitely just in “survival mode.” I somehow managed to live in the same house I shared with my mom a year and a half all alone. The silence, with my mom being gone, especially at night, gave way to the cacophony of my mind. I learned relatively quickly I was suffering from PTSD.

Since, my emotional and psychological well-being have improved every year, but in some ways, the anger is more palatable. I’m angry my mom and family had to suffer for so long and how we are still suffering. My sister and I miss our mom tremendously. My mom was only 66 years old when she passed. I was only 42 years old. My mom was extremely proud of everything I accomplished in my educational and professional life. But she still never really got to see the person who I became. After all, I couldn’t be fully revealing about my thoughts and opinions and different aspects of my life. I didn’t want to cause her undue stress. I definitely didn’t want something I said or was doing to be integrated into her psychosis and become a source of pain and conflict for her or me or us.  

One of these days, maybe I’ll write more about my path of healing (And through a fucking pandemic even!). For now, I felt what would be best for recognizing the fifth year was to make a video tribute of my mama. Even more than what I was able to show in my documentary film, I think the video shows just how vivacious, eloquent and radiant she was. And despite how crippling her severe mental illness was, her personality traits and love for her family remained. I wish I could have valued that and realized that more at the time. We love and miss you, mom!

An Ancient Bridge in Spain and The Scent of My Mother

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Me, in front of the “Puerta del Puente”

I recently went on a short trip to Spain with my father. It was the first time for both of us. It was something I wish we could have done ten years ago, when my dad was less physically limited. Unfortunately, back then, in 2012, my mama was homeless, living in her car. So, we were a bit preoccupied, on top of being busy with our jobs.

Though she is no longer with us, my mom isn’t ever too far from our minds. To honor my mom, I was already planning on leaving something of hers in Spain. My mama loved to visit new places and travel, before she got sick. Outside of Mexico a few times, my mom didn’t travel outside the U.S., but I know she would have loved to visit Western Europe if she got the chance.  So, I wanted to leave a part of her there.

The ancient bridge in Cordoba

Not having too much to choose from, I had settled on her watch. I wanted somewhere meaningful to place it, but among the historical sites and places we visited, I had trouble justifying placing it among any of the ubiquitous Catholic edifices or relics. My mom was raised Catholic, but she would come to despise Catholicism. She came to believe the Catholic Church was “The Beast” described in Revelations in the Bible. This was a reflection of my mom’s religious views. She referred to herself as being “nondenominational” and had many criticisms of organized religion.

I was able to find a place in Cordoba, Spain. In Cordoba, there is an ancient bridge. The bridge was built across the Guadalquivir river in the early 1st century BC by the Romans. After the Romans, Muslims settled and dominated the area in the Middle Ages. At that time, it became the capital of “Muslim Spain” for many centuries. Christians (i.e. Catholics) would gain control of the area and in the 16th Century would build a Renaissance gate on one side, the “Puerta del Puente.”

As I learned more about the history of the bridge and the city, I became convinced it would be a good spot to leave my mother’s watch, since it was a place where so much world history, cultural and religious in particular, converged. In that sense, it was not about Catholicism, it was about human history and change. It was about time being impermanent. My mom’s watch stopped working shortly after she passed. But time still presses forward, as it does through all things, including after my mama’s heart stopped beating.  

From our hotel, I jogged a mile to the bridge our last day in Cordoba. It was around 7:00am and still dark. The streets were still pretty quiet and a little eerie, but I didn’t mind the cover of darkness. I figured throwing my mom’s watch into the river could be considered “littering” anyways and I didn’t want to attract attention. I stopped about midway on the bridge, near the statue of what I thought was a virgin Saint. There were candles on the ground in front of the statue and a few were lit.

The statue of the Archangel, Saint Rafael

I had planned on doing a bit of a ceremony, something not too different than what I do in my home in the mornings some days. I started by saying to the statue, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are. If you’re able to, I could use your comfort and protection.” Not being Catholic, I didn’t feel I could even ask for that. I was just showing reverence, mainly, since I was a visitor. I then said a short prayer. I asked for guidance from my mom and told her how much we missed her and how I wish she could be there with me. I then prayed a bit to Jesus. I said these prayers while looking out over the water. I could barely see the river in the black and indigo darkness, as the sun just started to make its presence known on the horizon.

I then started to do some chanting meditation. It is what I have been doing and studying a bit, as part of a spiritual and physical practice I am learning through my Aikido training.  Specifically, I did a version of O’Sensei’s Kototama that I was taught by Linda Holiday Sensei recently. It is a standing version that incorporates arm movements.

“Suuuu…….Aahhhh……..Ooooo………..Uuuuu………Eeeeeyyy……..Iiiiiieeeeee”

The vibration it creates in my center (“hara”) helps me feel grounded, present and more relaxed. Spiritually, it is verbal and physical reverence to creation and the universe. Praying I do more out of reverence for my mom and how I was raised. The chanting is something I actually feel that is more relevant to me philosophically. Being based on Eastern Religion, it embodies connection, awareness and harmony (i.e. coexistence) with other living things and nature. Given that there is even Jewish history and influence in Cordoba, I thought it was powerful that at that moment, through my meditation, I was integrating a fifth religious influence into the city.

After chanting, I took a few minutes to take in the moment. A range of thoughts came up, including remembering my dad cynically asking me the day before why I had my mom’s watch with me, to wondering if my mom was on that bridge with me at that moment. Once I felt ready, I took the watch out of my pocket and looked at it one last time. My friend, Shari, bought my mom the watch for what would be my mom’s last Christmas in 2017. I made sure to text and let Shari know, when I got to the bridge, what I was planning on doing. She was very touched and supportive.

I kissed the watch next and, as I did, I smelled the unmistakable scent of lipstick. I knew the watch had a faint scent of my mom, a flowery smell that some of her clothes also have. But I’ve never smelled lipstick before on any of her things. I thought it was interesting and odd, but I did not think too much about it. I know many people would automatically believe that was a sign from my mom, but I had trouble doing so, cause that’s not my belief system. And being gone around twenty five minutes at that point, I was starting to feel like I should hurry to get back to the hotel to have breakfast with my dad. I carefully reached back and hurled the watch as far as I could into the river, hoping it wouldn’t land in too shallow an area. I didn’t see where it landed, but after hearing a splash, I was satisfied.

It was not until I was in a hotel in Madrid later that day that I decided to look up who the statue on the bridge was. It turns out it is a statue of a male figure, Saint Rafael. Saint Rafael is actually an Archangel and is responsible for healing. During the time of the plague, people in Cordoba would credit Saint Rafael with preventing the plague from causing widespread misery and death. The Spaniards placed the statue of him there in the 17th century. And interestingly, a version of Saint Rafael is found in not just Catholicism, but Islam and Judaism as well.

I have no way of knowing for sure if my mom was with me on that bridge. I like to think she was and that she let me know she was there by somehow conjuring a scent of lipstick. Whatever the case, I do know that since returning from Spain, I have felt recharged and I have a vitality that I do not remember feeling before. I am not as irritable and overwhelmed with work and the mundane everyday tasks of life like I usually am. I have been feeling more relaxed and calm. Indeed, the feeling of melancholy I know so well is not as persistent. I have no idea how long I will feel this way. I hope it lasts. I hope I did receive some permanent healing from Saint Rafael and/or the energies and/or gods in that place. In the least, I’ve been given more reason to continue my spiritual practices and to travel in foreign places more. I’m trying to live a fuller and happier life because my mama would want me to.  And, of course, it helps that I do receive what could be signs of my mama being with me.

Personal Post: My Aikido Journey

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I am hardly posting on my blog, for different reasons. One, work keeps me plenty busy. But I, also, am having a hard time balancing my advocacy, work and personal hobbies. That said, I will be sharing some news about a recent public event I participated in in Modesto, CA. It was the first time my film, “Benevolent Neglect”, was shown in a theatre!

With this post, I’d like to share some important personal news. After an intense amount of training this past year, I was able to finally receive my Black Belt in Aikido. I started training 14 years ago, around the time I first started trying to get help and treatment for my mom. Needless to say, dealing with my mom’s longterm medical crisis and housing insecurity derailed and delayed my training. I started training regularly again in 2019, but then the Pandemic hit! Well, I finally persevered and I know my mom would be very proud of me!

Here’s a video I made of my personal journey in Aikido. I incorporate the personal journey with my mom a little bit.

Less Blogging, More Film Promotion

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I’ve decided to try and convert this blog to a promotional page for my film, Benevolent Neglect. Having a website for my film is one of those marketing aspects I haven’t been able to create yet, given I’m a one person operation and my regular “day job” keeps me way too busy. I’m content with the positive responses my film is garnering, but I know it has the potential to attract a bigger audience. That’s the only way any politicians are going to take it seriously, I figure. I’ve sent it to officials to watch, but haven’t received any response or feedback from them. Typical, I know. In the least, it will give me something productive to do when I feel my advocacy is fruitless. I’m not sure what it’s going to look like yet, but I still plan on blogging on occasion, once it’s converted.

In the meantime, here are some short videos I took when I went to visit my mom at the cemetery on Mother’s Day. I was feeling somewhat creative and wanted to give a more personal feel for what it’s like when I’m there. I’ll usually stop by on my way to Fresno and then, again, on my way back to the Bay Area. The first video is the Friday, two days before Mother’s Day.The second video is on actual Mother’s Day. A mariachi band greeted me as I arrived. It was lovely.

It was the third Mother’s Day without my mom. I would normally take her to Marie Callender’s, her restaurant of choice for the occasion. I turned 45 years old this year. I should still have my mother.

I’m a Former Caretaker and The Joker Movie Is Pretty Right On About Society

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As a former caretaker, The Joker movie hit me in a raw way. I think the movie accurately portrays how society mistreats the poor and people with serious mental illness (SMI). I saw this, firsthand, in trying to help and take care of my mom, who struggled with schizoaffective disorder.

My mom wasn’t able to take care of herself adequately. She, in fact, had been suffering mightily and deteriorating for years. I couldn’t take it anymore. She deserved to live with a semblance of dignity.

When I started taking care of her full-time, we didn’t have a lot of family around and I didn’t have a lot of money saved up from my teaching job. So, my mom and I were pretty isolated socially and very reliant on the government for her healthcare and welfare needs.

I was able to stabilize her medically (physically) enough and keep her safe for two years, but society made it exceedingly difficult, in every respect, for me to do so. As it was, it never provided us with sufficient help and respect, since the onset of her SMI. My mom needlessly suffered for more than a decade. She would never be treated for her SMI and stabilized. She was discarded. We were discarded.

“They don’t care about people like you, Arthur.”

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Arthur Fleck doing his best to survive.

Those were the words spoken to Arthur Fleck by his government social worker (SW). She was referring to the policy makers (officials) who decided to close her office and, thus, cut Arthur off from his psychiatric meds. But as was clear in their interactions, even the SW didn’t seem to care all that much about Arthur’s struggle. As Arthur stated moments before she told him the news, “You never really listen to me.” He’s of course saying she doesn’t really care about him.

This was all too common an experience in trying to access MH services for my mom. For example, there was the time when an intake worker/clinician at a county Behavioral Health Department, in flagrant violation of county policy and state law, outright denied my mom MH services, because my mom, like many people with SMI, denied having a SMI!

The worker was cold and impersonal from the minute we met. I remember saying, angrily, on my way out of the interview/assessment, “I’m waiting outside, mama. All she’s doing at this point is filling out information so they can get their money for seeing you from Medi-Cal.”

There was the time when a hospital nurse and supervisor unsafely discharged my mom against my wishes. My mom was clearly in a psychotic state and unable to make a competent decision about her own care. My mom didn’t even believe she was in a hospital.

Despite this and her physical condition being fragile (She would be treated for sepsis and was just two days removed from a ventilator.), hospital staff would wheel her to a cab. They couldn’t even be bothered to do a psychiatric evaluation to see if she fit involuntary hold criteria.

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My mom didn’t like hospitals. I can’t blame her.

This incident was an extreme example, but our experiences with various hospitals taught me they don’t give a shit about people with SMI. Whenever my mom started to become non-compliant, due to her psychosis, staff would become less attentive and they’d begin preparing her for discharge, even if she wasn’t medically stable.

And this is what they were willing to do regularly in front of me. I can only imagine what they did all those times I wasn’t with her before she lived with me!

“Is it just me or is it getting crazier out there?”

That’s what Arthur asked his social worker during one of their sessions. She responded by saying, “It’s tough times. People are struggling with no work.”

Her comment is a reference to the larger political and economic situation the movie is based in. It’s a pretty subtle backdrop, but the movie itself starts with a radio report of a pitched labor battle, a garbage strike, to help make that very point.

It lasts weeks and leads to increasing piles of garbage on city and neighborhood streets. Tensions build and, eventually, protests breakout at what’s clearly deep frustration with economic inequality and uncertainty, and government mistreatment and negligence.

Arthur’s access to his meds and social worker getting cutoff epitomizes how poor people with disabilities are some of the biggest victims of these conditions. Social scientists actually have a name for such government practices. They’re called “austerity politics.”

In a basic sense, we have been living under an era of “austerity politics” for decades. Since the 70s, governments, at every level, have been cutting costs and services (i.e. downsizing), in the name of “fiscal responsibility” and in order to foster a better “business environment.” It’s a process, a project really, that started as a result of a sluggish economy, increased foreign competition and lower corporate profits. The movie is set in the early 80s, the decade when the process accelerates. (My mom would actually lose her job with the State of California in the late 90s, due to layoffs.)

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An abandoned psychiatric hospital

Mental health services have not gone untouched. People like to blame the Republicans and Ronald Reagan for the closing of state psychiatric hospitals. But today, even in “Liberal” San Francisco, we have a local government severely neglecting the needs of its own SMI population. So much so, we have local MH workers themselves speaking out against the inadequate conditions and publicly protesting. In fact, former Chief Psychiatrist of SF General Hospital, Robert Okin, describes the situation as a “war on the mentally ill.”

Arthur’s social worker’s full comment actually was “They don’t care about people like you, Arthur. They don’t care about people like me either.” I’ve had my issues with regular staff and frontline workers. In fact, a friend my mom and I made at her dialysis center even told me, in a private conversation, that her coworkers don’t care about the patients. They only care about the money.

This regime we are living under of austerity leaves me with no doubt, however, that high level administrators and public officials are the biggest culprits of all. They make it too difficult, if not impossible, for even the best and most empathetic workers to do their jobs.

“Society decides what’s fun-ny.” 

Arthur says this after embracing his homicidal, violent urges and becoming The Joker. It’s the beginning of a strident public criticism he makes, while appearing on a late-night talk show, to explain his rage and motives. His criticism really is the first time he says something so politically cohesive in the movie.

In a basic sense, he says society made the rules and the rules were made to keep him marginalized and an outcast. He worked hard and honestly, but he lost his job cause of a dishonest coworker and cold-hearted boss. He wanted to get better, but he was cut off from his meds. He cared for his ill mother the best he could, but in the end, she was his biggest betrayer and abuser.

My life experience hasn’t been so bleak. In fact, there were many people, workers, clinicians and strangers that were nice to me and my mom, and did try to help in some way. And my mama knew I loved her and I know she loved me, even though her SMI strained our relationship.

But I damn well know there are too many people who have it worse, like Arthur. And some of them, unfortunately, do lash out with violence. As it is, I’ll never forget what was done to me and my family. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive. Society will try to focus on individual motives or psychological reasons for behavior it doesn’t like, but the fact of the matter is society, is too often, the monster.