Justice

Would it be consolation to you if I said that the people who stand in judgment of those of us with mental illnesses most likely treat everyone with the same lack of respect?

I find it hard to believe someone could turn his love on and off like a light switch depending on who he decided to give his love to. This holds true for the females among us as well so feel free to replace he with she in that sentence. It is a possibility I do not wish to consider.

This is the last I will talk about this except to tell you one thing:
In April 1998 when I lived at home and was working in the City and going to school I received a call from my psychiatrist's wife that Dr. Cruz had died. I hung up the phone and slumped in a chair at the kitchen table.

Mind you this was going on 12 years ago before I even began writing my memoir or doing public speaking as an advocate.

My father must have thought I lost it because I blurted out:

"I want to see justice served for the last forsaken lot of misunderstood crazy people."

I had an ally in Dr. Cruz. He told me once that there was no stigma because he treated everyone equally and he referred to a woman who had been sitting in the waiting area with her husband and young son.

Dr. Cruz told me on my first visit to him outside of the hospital that one day I would be able to live independently and find a job.

Why did I tell my father that when I received the news that my psychiatrist had died?

I have no idea.

I told him:

"I want to see justice served for the last forsaken lot of misunderstood crazy people."

Please forgive my language: those were the words that came to me at the time.

Again I have continued in this vein so let me go and begin elsewhere.

I would like to believe that most people would be compassionate.

I hold out that hope.

This hope keeps me going at a time like this.

That is all we can do:

Hope.