THE "C" WORD
by Ron Schraiber

"I cannot fully express
how hurtful and invalidating
it can be to have your
thoughts and feelings
dismissed as crazy,
or the product of a
deluded mind or brain..."

Ron Schraiber is a California activist known nationally as the co-author of a pioneering research project to determine what factors promote well-being among mental health clients. The study, described as "landmark" in the Surgeon General's 1999 special report on mental health, was conducted in 1989 with researcher Jean Campbell, Ph.D, now the director of the Program in Consumer Studies and Training, Missouri Institute of Mental Health. Ron is the director of the Office for Consumer Affairs, Los Angeles County Department of Mental Health.

I had just picked up my six-year-old son, Joshua, from his after school care at the YMCA. As we arrived home, both of us knew it was time for the post school/YMCA wrap-up. Daddy would inquire, ritualistically, if not always poignantly, into the historic daily happenings of the life of my beloved first grader. Joshua, however, did not usually view these weekday domestic news conferences as a time of sharing or parental interest. For him, it was a time of unwanted inquiries, of pulling teeth for information, an imposition on him of the stale past. To the question of, "What happened at school today," he would regularly answer, "I don't remember."

It was Joshua's way of saying he preferred to pay his present attention to more pressing and interesting matters, such as Power Rangers, X-Men, drawing dinosaurs or playing video games. Today, however, was different. Joshua responded that somene had said the "C" word at school. Now, being a wordly sort of guy, I had already heard of the notorious "F" word. In fact, Joshua had actually questioned me about that one before. But the "C" word... what was that?

"Daddy, don't you know?... the "C" word, C-R-A-Z-Y!

Of course, I know the "C" word - all too intimately and hurtfully so. During the 1970's, I had been involuntarily hospitalized approximately 20 times with such diagnoses as schizophrenia and
manic-depression. I knew the devastation and negation of being called "crazy" on both a formal and informal basis. I cannot fully express how hurtful and invalidating it can be to have your thoughts and feelings dismissed as crazy, or the product of a deluded mind or brain, whether it be couched in the professional jargon of mental health vernacular or the put-down of everyday discourse.

Yes, son, Daddy knew the "C" word.

Joshua had learned his sensitivity to the "C" word from our conversations related to treating all people with dignity and respect. In our father and son household, he has been taught that putting people down or making fun of them for being "crazy" is just as wrong and bad as ridiculing or denigrating someone because of their ethnic or religious background, or because of a person's different customs or language. In short, no hurtful name calling or prejudice.

I guess that my talk about calling people crazy and making fun of other people had some effect. It was Joshua, himself, who came up with the appellation of the "C" word for crazy, thus showing that I had somehow transmitted to him the gravity of my beliefs, that along with the "F" word and various other epithets, "crazy" was a word bathed in taboo and opprobrium.

To be sure, Joshua has become my living conscience. When I mimicked an Asian language newscast on cable TV, it was Joshua who set me straight about not making fun of other people and their language. After all, I had told him about anti-Semitism and how our Jewish ancestors had suffered so much because of prejudice. Ah, yes, the sensitivity of innocence and political correctness has truly arrived in Whittier in the form of the avenging angel called Joshua. Woe unto the Daddy who transgresses his just gaze!

While I continue to try to imbue Joshua with lessons of liberty and justice for all, including people commonly described as "crazy," I have never actually told Joshua that I have been a mental health client - and this, despite the fact that I have discussed my psychiatric history in the print and electronic media. Part of it is, that despite his obvious intelligence and compassion, he may still be too young to fully integrate what it means to have a father who has the stigmatizing identity of "ex-mental patient." It is often difficult for parents to admit any flaws to their admiring young ones, let alone a status that is guaranteed not to win you a welcoming party and the most sought-after new neighbor award. The discrimination and problematical status of being diagnosed with mental illness extends even to our loving children... and, God knows, how they will feel and react... and how I will react to their reaction, especially if it entails even a small form of rejection. The time for full disclosure is near, though, so get the reporter from Hard Copy!

When I worked at LAMP, a social service agency providing services for people diagnosed with serious mental illness on Los Angeles' Skid Row, I would periodically take Joshua there. I will always remember the reaction of the clients there, how much they enjoyed seeing and playing with Joshua. Ironically, such joyful scenes at LAMP made me angry - angry at society that so often stereotypes and portrays people identified as mentally ill as subhuman pariahs bent on paths of destruction. I never told Joshua that these people were so-called "mental patients." For Joshua these people were individuals, to be enjoyed and appreciated based on their individual interactions with him. He did not know them as a category, only as people. Perhaps, Joshua will always treat people as unique individuals, and, hopefully, that will include his dad.

Interestingly, no matter how hard I try, Joshua continues to retain what seems a universal prejudice, at least, in America, of little boys' dislike of "icky" little girls. Is it genetic or learned?

To think that I've been a single dad for the last few years. What a contrast to when I lived on the streets. To most, I would have been considered "the homeless mentally ill" (definitely a politically incorrect term). I liked to consider myself a vagabond, an internal refugee in America who lived by the dictum of Thoreau, "If you see someone running after you, to help you, then run even faster." Unfortunately, the police and the mental health system often caught up with me, telling me that my prognosis was poor. Now, I'm a 9 to 5 type of guy with all the responsibilities and joys of fatherhood sans spouse. (How I got sole custody of Joshua is a story that has more twists than "As the World Turns.") As for myself, I feel my prognosis is good whenever Joshua smiles or says, "I love you, Daddy."

Ron Schraiber, Director of Consumer Affairs