T H E    D A R K    N I G H T    O F    T H E    S O U L

we all have some

but

S O M E

have an everlasting, eternal D A R K    N I G H T

with no chance of dawn

and dusk being a far too long ago memory.       .        .

C  A  R  R  I  E       F  I  S  H  E  R

.        .        .her autopsy reports were released this week

screaming that there was a deadly cocktail

of countless illicit and prescription drugs

in her system.      .      .

THE  NEWS

as it always does with public figures,

began a new tidal wave of grief

and a fresh round of moralizing

on the wastefulness of addiction

and the perceived weakness of the poor victim,

which sadly is the stuff that keeps

TMZ and EXTRA and The National Enquirer in business.       .         .

If you’ve never suffered from a Mental Illness

you can’t begin to

K      N      O      W

let alone imagine what it possible could be like

or   f e e l

It would be like attempting to tell what it feels like to jump out of a plane

without ever having even been to an airport

let alone on a flight.         .         .

and yet we

P          R          E          S          U          P          P          O          S          E

Carrie talked openly about her demons

She never hid them

She never ran from them

She never shied away from letting us see her scars

even if it would make us wince

even if we’d prefer that they would stay hidden.        .        .

Mental Illness

is still the only kind of illness

we make people feel guilty

for being afflicted .          .          .

By the end of this week

I will have conducted three funerals for a

24, 27 and 28 year old folks

who battled their mental illness the same way

that Carrie Fisher

they weren’t quite as famous

but they’re all quite as dead

It’s a war

without a promise of ending

or a long-sought cease fire

and worse.       .       .

we seem to

at the least

be handing out the ammunition

and most definitely offering

little or no

s a n c t u a r y

and then shake our heads in pity

for the unfortunate causalities .          .          .

W     H     A     T          T     O         D     O  ?

It’s a legitimate question

if you care enough

to ask it

and then

simply wait for an answer.            .           .

Every year,

according to Newsweek Magazine

about 42.5 million American adults or

18.2 percent of the total adult population in the United States

suffers from some mental illness

enduring conditions such as

depression, bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia.          .          .

It would seem that this

above all would be the norm and not the opposite:

The War

(if there truly is one)

on Mental Illness

rests not on the Mentally Ill

but the overwhelming majority

choosing to be Caring Catalysts

for more than just every once in a while

or when it happens to not-very-often

is convenient.           .         .

A   F    T     E     R         A     L     L :

Don’t   pull   the   shade   up

on   the

D   A   R   K         N   I   G   H   T         O   F          S     O     U     L

tear   it   down

and       L   I   G   H  T       a      path

that   well   might   not   have   ever   seen

even   a   flicker !

Yeah.       .       .

I was   T H A T   kid.

I wasn’t very good in school.      .      .

I didn’t like it.       .       .

I don’t know if it much liked me, either.       .        .

I went there to play sports

and when sports went away,

I used it for a true means

to an   e  n  d.     .     .

I learned to beat it

M            O          R          E

than it beat me.

I learned to overcome it’s shame

and   D   E   G   R   A   D   I   N   G         G   R   A   D   E   S.       .       .

When I was in 6th grade we had just moved again;

It was the third school I had been in 6 years.      .      .

In retrospect.      .      .

it really made me the extrovert,

people-person I am today.       .       .

but it was tough,  t h e n.        .         .

Our teacher was Old School

in an    n e w   school.       .       .

She believed in motivating through humiliation;

When you took a test

she let everyone know what   S  C  O  R  E

they received by

Calling out your name

and putting your paper on the desk.      .      .

but just not any desk;

We had five rows of them.     .     .

She started by calling out the names

of all those who had received

F’s

by putting them on the row of desks in the fifth row;

D’s

were the Fourth Row;

C’s

right in the middle;

B’s

in the Second Row

and with drum roll anticipation

and great Pomp

T h e   A’s  

were reserved for   T H A T

First Row.     .     .

Yes, I can finally write about it now.       .       .

I landed not just in the Fifth Row,

but most of the time,

the last or next to the last seat in the Fifth Row.     .     .

H-U-M-L-L-I-A-T-E-D–N O T

m     o     t     i     v     a     t     e     d !

And then I found a way out:

E     X     T     R     A           C     R     E     D     I     T !

We walked to school,

which was a half of a block away

and went home for lunch.     .     .

I would hurry home

and eat lunch and then hurry back to school

so that I could grab the Encyclopedias

and come up with a 3-5 minute talk

about some interesting facts

of what we were studying in Geography;

I didn’t discover my voice.        .        .

I literally ascertained that my mouth,

the mouth that had been washed out several times with soap,

that got sent to bed countless times for

‘s  a  s  s  i  n  g,’

that mouth which could convince

my brothers and sister

out of their favorite Halloween or Easter candy,

belongs in a Circus—

all   T h r e e – R i n g s !

I did what everyone else hated to do:

T   a   l   k

 in front of the class room,

three days a week,

following our lunch break.      .      .

I’d tell them about the importing and exporting business

in Peru or Rio or Guam;

Told them about climates and what grew best in the soil;

What Winter’s or Fall’s were like;

I told them what the favorite hobbies

or past-time’s were in those locales and

I      K  E  P  T      F  A  I  L  I  N  G      T  E  S  T  S.         .        .

But I kept moving up Rows.     .     .

From the  F’s

to the  D’s

to the  C’s

to the  B’s

and finally.      .      .

I was sitting in the last seat of the

A’s   Row

because of a mouth that couldn’t be quieted or

D  E – G  R  A  D  E  D !

I remember one afternoon,

going in before school resumed

again after lunch

and working on another Extra Credit talk

while  S H E

was sitting at her desk grading papers

to a test we had just taken that morning;

“You found a way, didn’t you,”  she asked me?

I looked up from the Encyclopedia that I was reading,

getting ready for my next talk.     .     .

“Uhhh, ma’am.”

“You found a way of passing while failing, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, it’s a good thing, because this test you just took would have landed you back in the last seat of the Fourth Row.”

I didn’t say or do anything, because I couldn’t look away from her.

She smiled and said,

“Congratulations. Well done, Mr. Behrens. You have found a way out of the way and I believe it will serve you well.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.      .      .

I haven’t stopped smiling—–

y  e  t.        .        .

or

T       A       L       K       I       N       G.        .        .