Good morning,

I'm currently vice-chair of the Nevada MHPAC, a member of NAMI National  Restraint and Seclusion committee, and a member of Dr. Bill's (The Reverend Dr. William Barlett) Reno Buddhist church.  I've served on the committee which helped form Nevada's first mental health court, here in Washoe County.  I've served as Nevada ACLU's volunteer mental health coordinator, I teach an anger management course, as a volunteer, at NNAMHS, the state hospital in Sparks and I recently had published this book, MENTAL ILLNESS: A GUIDE TO RECOVERY. 

I've also been homeless, been arrested nine times, been an inpatient at five different psych hospitals and have spent about 30 days in four point restraint, including about six with an arm twisted behind my head to teach me a lesson.  I've also spent 74 days in solitary confinement, denied pen, pencil access to a telephone and prescription medication.

But, "people get bitter or better"^[1]

"Convicts stand higher on the ladder of acceptance than Mental patients"^[2]

Like so many before me, my real recovery began ... when I found a purpose in life.

If religion has a purpose, it is to lead people from bitterness; to help them find a purpose in life.   "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord ."   Now,  my personal opinion is that this doesn't mean mouthing meaningless words of praise, treating God as if he was some insecure medieval monarch, who might turn on you for failing to flatter him sufficiently.  Rather, it is for an individual to find work that makes you happy; that puts meaning in your life.  Something that you would do gladly, even if no money was involved.  Imagine the change to the world if everyone looked forward to their day, instead of dreading it.

I'd like to read a few excerpts from an issue of THE JOURNAL, which unfortunately is no longer published.  This is a magazine which was very important in my recovery, and then tell you a little of my journey. 

The first time I heard a consumer of mental health services say he looked at his 'illness' as more of spiritual journey, the idea really upset me.... As he went on, in carefully crafted sentences, with a great deal of passion and commitment regarding the client movement, which he claimed to represent, and the benefits of self help, I found myself admiring the young man... I found myself wresting with my mind.  What was I doing ? Denying hope? Had I shut the door on the possibility of remission? "Could holding this life shattering experience in a paradigm that contextualizes it as a spiritual journey shape attitude and actually facilitate wellness? ^[3]

My answer to this last question is: Yes, definitely.  My journey through mental illness has been a search for meaning.  How better to frame the purpose of any religion or spiritual believe than as a quest for meaning?

By the way, the difference between religion and spirituality is that religion is for people who want to avoid going to hell; spirituality is for those who have been to hell and want to avoid going back. ^[4]

I've taken a stroll through hell that lasted for some years.  While it's not someplace I want to return to, it's also a place that I feel obligated to help others escape from.

Another somehat longer quote from an article in The Journal:
One day, early in his ministry of preaching and healing, Jesus went home to visit his mother and family.  Huge crowds gathered around the house, so that even having a family meal was all but impossible.  Later, as he went about town, visiting and teaching, some of the neighbors came to Mary and said "you need to do something and quick!  Your son is out of his mind!  He's gone mad!"  Some even suggested that if she didn't do something, they would.

Mary was overwhelmed with a flood of emotions: embarrassment, shock, hurt, maybe even some guilt.  She and Jesus' other relatives discussed it, but were convinced that the ugly reports were true:  Jesus was mentally ill!  Even some of the scribes and religious authorities were saying the same thing.  So they hurried out to find Jesus and to seize him for his sake and for theirs.

They came to the house where he was teaching.  "Your mother and brothers are asking for you," he was told.  Jesus replied "Who are my mother and brothers?  Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother."

A flight of fancy by your author?  Not a chance!  (Only a few liberties to help explain the story.)  New Testament readers, look up Mark 3:19b-21, 31-35.  The neighbors told his family that he was existemi  (Greek, meaning out of your mind or senses - a common first century word for mental illness.)

Stigma was alive and well in the first century, just as it is today.  This little, unnoticed story shows how Jesus, because of his love for and identity with the mentally ill, was accused of being mentally ill himself.  Even Mary and the family were pulled into it by the stigmatizing neighbors.  What family of a mentally ill person today is not familiar with this experience? ^[5]

At the turn of the last century, it has been estimated, that only between 6% and 8% of the people with a serious mental illness ever recovered.  As little as ten years ago (cite)  an article was published that claimed that it was only by the grace of God, that people recovered from a mental illness.    It was probably between four and five years ago that NAMI came out with the verified claim that between 50 -60% of people with a serious mental illness were able to achieve significant recovery.

What has changed?

The decade of the brain (1990-1999) brought substantial new advances to the treatment of the mentally ill.  A better understanding of various portions of the brain.   New medications which have fewer side effects.  Doctors however, still can't say exactly why they work, or why they don't work for others.  The peer movement.  Those of us with a major mental illness who have been able to achieve substantial recovery, and in turn give hope to others who are just beginning their journey. 

Studies have shown that approximately 40% of those with a mental illness and their families first turn to their clergy.  The clergy were found to be last in being helpful and supportive. ^[6]

Eighty percent of patients in psychiatric hospitals consider themselves to be religious or spiritual.  Fewer than one-half  have a clergy person to attend them.^[7]

Aside from those who stay in the same community, people generally only go to a church they have been invited to.   Often people with mental illness, particularly in the early stages of recovery, have poor communication skills.  People who will approach them, let alone invite them someplace are rare.

Religion, generally considered a force for good has, in my life, pointed largely towards confusion. 

My father was excommunicated from the Catholic Church for refusing to force my mother, who was raised Protestant, to raise my brothers and I as Catholic.  My mother was... a strong willed woman.  Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to persuade her.  As a cop who fought corruptions in what might arguably been the most corrupt county in the U.S., I got the feeling he just saw this dictate as another form of corruption.

My mother was also a troubled person.  I was about age six when my father wanted my mother to check into a psychiatric hospital.  He was going to try to have her committed, but I forgot to follow his instructions from the night before... and it didn't happen.

Psychiatric hospitals in the 50's were places you rarely got out of.  Who knows what the future would have been like, for me or my brothers.  Although, aside from the first few seconds I never blamed myself for this. 

In church, at about ten years old, I read a prayer.  Part of it read; "God is everything."    The thought that then entered my mind was; The universe is everything.  The universe is God. 

This was a comforting though.  I'm part of the universe, I'm part of God.

No, I heard from my Sunday school teacher.  God is separate from you.  You can't be part of God.  That was cold and distancing.  I so much wanted to be part of something, and yet God wouldn't have me?

At age eleven or twelve, I was diagnosed with epilepsy.  Shortly afterwards, a kid in the schoolyard started pointing out another kid who was on his way, headed to the school for the disabled.  "He has seizures, he's possessed by the devil."   I stepped up to him, "I have seizures."  He backed away.  So did his friends.  The only one who stood his ground next to me was the kid who became my best friend.  As a Jew, he knew a little about being an outcast.

His family, mother, father, and sister became like a second family to me.  I called his mom my second Mom.  The love and acceptance they showed me is something that helped make me the person I am today.

About age 13 or 14 I kept on having the crazy thought that I was going to be Pope.  It wasn't a job I wanted then, It isn't a job I want now.  Although I didn't know it at the time, the type of epilepsy I had, temporal lobe epilepsy, causes an abnormal interest in religion.

My first hallucination, about 23 years ago, was inside a Catholic church.  I stopped in during what I now consider my first manic attack.  I saw Christ move his arms, and perhaps his legs, on the cross.  Down by his side, then up over his head, over and over.   I had a camera with me. I took pictures.  They didn't show any movement.

About seventeen or eighteen years ago, I had a choice to make.  Do I die in jail, or do I plead no contest to charges I don't believe I was guilty of.  I was being held in solitary confinement, denied pen, pencil, access to a telephone, and prescription medication.  My lawyer, which is typically in the plea bargain system, which has replaced the justice system in this country, refused to speak to me, except to demand I plea no contest.  This, by the way, is not considered to be any violation of ethics by the California State Bar Association.  I had gone into status epilepticus, a life threatening condition, one seizure after another, on five separate occasions.   I felt the sixth would kill me.  I chose life, but it wasn't an easy decision.  It meant I had to forgo my faith in other things I held dear, like the belief I had in the criminal justice system.

About a dozen years ago, I stopped in a church for guidance.  I was told by the minister he had nothing to offer.  He also said that it was about this time that people with a mental illness left the church.

The last time I stopped in a Christian church was about nine years ago.  The minister was whipping the congregation into a frenzy with how Jesus had kicked God out of heaven, and that Jesus was now God.  It was a little too much for me.  Those folks were crazier than me.

The other week, I heard of someone who went to a church, I imagine it was a lot like that one.  He was told to stop taking his medication, that it was poison.  The congregation would pray for him.  He would be cured.   Well, it didn't end as bad as it could have.  He wound up back in the hospital.  It's not the first time I've heard of this. 

People with mental illness, and their families, are looking for hope, love, guidance, community and purpose.    In my book, Mental Illness: A Guide To Recovery, I try to present much of the latest information about mental illness in both  holistic, and non-technical terms.  The churches and temples are where people confronted with mental illness often turn.  All too often ignorance, stigma and arrogance are all they are met with.

Please, help me change this.

Thank you.