From Jeanne

October, 2005

One of my Coordinators is working with a woman named Mary who this past weekend tried to commit suicide unsuccessfully by taking too many Ibuprofen-- we couldn’t determine exactly how many. We met with her team today, the people that are in her life, to see how we can “support her.” Mary feels very angry with anyone who doesn’t let her do what she wants to do, and if she’s really mad, she will attempt suicide. She has restrictions that prevent her from “sharps” (anything that could be used to stab or break skin), from being alone when she has shown precursors to suicidal behavior. She is both extremely manipulative and vulnerable all at the same time. It is a weird thing to be feeling both sympathy and anger at the same moment towards a person.
Another person in our services will not stop hitting himself in the head. He hits so hard that his eye swells shut. He has elbow restraints so he can’t hit, but state law requires that he come out of his restraints every other hour for ten minutes. Within one minute, he has hit himself about 30 times. He is currently living with a Mormon family that provides excellent care, but they have turned in their notice. We don’t know where he will go.
So I came home to Jan, Christopher and Cory. Christopher had been freaking out all day.
We ate some dinner, Jan and Cory went to church together, and I sat down with Christopher to see what was going on. I heard Christopher upstairs earlier saying “misery” and yelling as only people with Autism can. I called him down, gave him some dinner and said “Christopher, this world is full of trouble and sorrow. Sometimes the only thing is to sing the Blues.” I asked him if he wanted me to sing some songs about misery. He said “Yes.” I sang “Deep River” and he looked as if someone had explained his troubles. I sang “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” and he paced around smiling in the library. I sang other songs that came from the suffering of the slaves and noticed that they all had lines about HOME. Then Christopher sat down and said, “I’m scared of the river.” I said, “You’re already in it. You’ve been in the Jordan River since you’ve been born. We have to keep swimming to get to the other side. Jesus is waiting.” Christopher said, “Yes.” He said, “I’m scared of the river.” I said, ‘You’ve got to hope for the other side. You have a home here now with Dad and me and Cory, but our real home is on the other side of the River. You will not have fear there or sorrow. Jesus is there.” Christopher looked intensely in front of him, his brow furrowed. He said, “I’m scared of the River.”