I am the Evidence

My angels incorporate glowing colors and various symbols of love, peace and hope. They make me feel good, being so colorful and serene at the same time. My plan is to make twelve and then make a calendar. I am blessed in many ways. It’s nice to be able to spread joy anyway I can.

Flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bells

 

Shamrocks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pudgy Hearts

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spheres

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stars

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring

We are the sensitive ones. The intelligent and depressed. The deep and thoughtful.  The troubled and searching. We love words. It takes time to process the words, because of the nuances and semantics and complexities that many don’t comprehend. So if a person needs time to chew on a sentence it’s because they care.

Diner Dialogue

My favorite diner spins neon off chrome

Open twenty four seven

with a healthy batch of waitresses to flirt with.

My favorite friend spins words off the tongue

 and already knows what he wants.

 Relaxing in a booth; cocky,

we’ve memorized the menu: chef salad, clam strips, omelets, pancakes, milk shakes, fries…

and slide into a pattern of

“This is where I am.”

And “How was your day?”

And “I need time to breathe.”

The server asks “What can I get you?”

And you reply “What’s your name darlin’?”

“Erin, she says”

“O.K. Erin, I’ll have the BLT club and water no ice”

And we both see no ring on that finger.

My friend’s eyes light up when he realizes we’re on the same plate.

Then you say “Things move too fast. “

“How can I ask people to Please Slow Down?”

 I am hungry for life.

 I am hungry for love.

“The lives we are living are cracked yet repairable.”

We come to this conclusion:

Words are our thing.

Spoken and written and heard.

 And you always get decaf.

And we almost never get dessert.

And I always feel better afterward.

Here’s what you say:

“I care about what you are expressing, and I need time to digest it.

So talk slowly and strive to focus.”

Living in the moment at the diner-

This is what we see:

The Menus are molten

The salt and pepper is poison

The china plates are passionate

The coffee mugs clink with the spoons

The tips are tipsy

Booths are beholden

Cakes are in the case

The heavy tray balanced on one hand

The check is a conduit

The walk to the car is uncommon

Goodbyes, like dry toast, can be hard.

Goodbyes, like marmalade, can be sweet.

Normal

Sometimes my thoughts spiral down into a black hole where I am unable to process and even speak. I have been brilliant and witty on stage. I have had a room full of people cheering and laughing and hanging onto my every word. I have been confident and entertaining and quick. This can’t be taken from me. It is real. People have seen it. But people have also seen me break down. Clam up and walk off into the night.  

My good friend Richard was explaining, as we sat in the diner, his take on Frank Kelso Wolfe. I liked what he said. He put things into perspective and made me feel better. He said I was not normal (no big secret).  He said that I felt and saw things that many others don’t. It didn’t give me an excuse for blanking out, not that I need one, or for going psychotic or “fritzing out”.  It did explain a few things.

I am bi-racial. I grew up in a time when race relations were making strides but still tense(The Cosby Show). I grew up gifted and very creative in a town that sticks close to normal and doesn’t offer many outlets for creativity and the arts. My youth was, thanks to my parents, in many ways idyllic and charmed. There were some incidents of racism and tension but I did not lack for anything, and my home was full of art and books and all my parents ever asked of me was to do my best.

I was terribly shy (reticent) and never felt attractive to the girls in school. I did well in high school.  Honor student and Scholar athlete of the year and academic scholarship to Penn State Happy Valley. That was 1987.What follows is an account of a decent, not onto madness, but into being different. Of surviving and going my own way. I have a picture of me my first day at 212 Hartranft, the dorm room I would call home while I did my own thing for two semesters. My world was the college and college town by night. I wandered and ate and read and went to the movies and played pinball. I haunted Pattee library and roamed the streets. My wishes were my desires.  I was incredibly lonely. But I was having a good time. I was different.

Upcoming: Part two- “ The books I read, and “Almost Home Cookies”

Hi all,

Cone check out our new art display developed in conjunction with the Gallery on High Street in Pottstown.

Ed Schwenk, a Peer Specialist at Creative Health Services was a co-author of an article on work done by peer specialists. The findings are the result of a national survey. To access this article follow the instructions below.

Google “Psychiatric Services”

Browse content

Past issues

2010

May 2010

Brief reports

Mark S. Salzar, Edward Schwenk, and Eugene Brusilovskiy

Certified Peer Specialist Roles and Activities: Results from a National Survey

Sometimes the things we do are for survival. At times I eat to smother “The pain of being”. At times my mind makes up stories to deal with intense and scary realities. I don’t follow the news. I don’t get involved in politics or heated arguments on disturbing subjects. My Dad on the other hand at the age of eighty four reads two newspapers a day plus Newsweek and watches CNN’s Situation Room with Wolf Blitzer. When he wants to “get away” he flips on the Western Channel. My mom plays her solitaire and has a cup of coffee with peanut butter toast.

I never was a sports fan, although I played football, track, hockey and basketball. A few weeks ago I was in the locker room at the YMCA and the T.V. was showing footage of the turmoil in the Middle East. It was a bit too much for me. So I turned the station to a 24/7 Golf channel. I have never played a round of golf in my life aside from the miniature variety. That day I got a whole new perspective on the world of sports. The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat. Sports as a healthy diversion and a microcosm of life.

Do I have any power over the events unfolding in the world? I feel like a twig in raging torrent of events, but I have been learning, slowly, to accept the things I cannot change. I think globally and act locally. My perspective of the world is only one of billions (though I do sometimes feel I am the center of the universe). My life has been a blessed and lucky one. No hunger or terror or violence. I have never been homeless or without friends or family.

These days a lot of my focus has been on my health. It feels like I turned forty and here came the aches and pains. But I have been focusing on it to the exclusion of the good things in my life. People wonder what I get out of worrying and fretting about every tweak and twinge and pull and discomfort. I feel hyper sensitive and “Achy Breaky” as if something is about to pop every other minute. I have been asked to consider that these pains are psychosomatic. But it sure doesn’t feel like they are all in my head.

My good therapist has said on several occasions “The social worker must survive” To take care of myself so that I can help others. I will give myself a pat on the back for doing an admirable job in a tough profession. Despite my issues I feel I truly make a difference for the people I work with. I have been a CPS at Creative Health for three and a half years. I still make mistakes and errors of judgment and I learn from them. How much better could I do my job without these distractions and worry?

“These are the times that try men’s souls.” I am a twig in a raging torrent, but a bunch of twigs can clump together and eventually change the course of a mighty river. We do what we need to survive. I have a new book, and am giving some amazing performances. My social life is opening up, and I am trying to get more healthy physically and mentally.  I won’t give up on me.

3-31-11

Hi All,

Be sure to check out our Certified Peer Specialist extraordinaire, Frank, on WPAZ,  1370 AM, Thursday, March 17th, between 9am and 12 noon for a radio show dedicated to the spoken word.

One of Frank’s peers will be there as an observer.

Good Days

            I jump out of bed bright eyed and bushy tailed; shake my fist at the travails of yesterday, and say a hopeful prayer for the next twenty four hours. I am very aware that there is a balance between living in the moment and giving myself things to look forward to. As I write this the forecast for tomorrow is sun.

One of the best things in my life now is my job. I am thankful to be part of the Certified Peer Specialist “Gentle revolution” in mental health treatment.  This week Creative Health’s active peer specialist staff grew by 50 percent (from two to four!). Please say hello to Jennifer and Lori as you see them around the building. It is exciting.  We are the cutting edge of Mental Health recovery and treatment.

We are also well aware of the caring and hard work of the people at Creative Health and elsewhere that have been helping people with mental illnesses for decades and decades. It is a leap of faith to start the process of integrating people with a mental illness into the treatment team. Like persons with any other chronic illness, we have good days and bad days. We also have serious setbacks now and then. CHS has shown sensitivity and faith that these setbacks are most times temporary.

            So now we have four CPS’s currently working at Creative Health (five when Vanessa returns). You can find us in the office with the big windows and the fruit basket on the table.  A table full of pamphlets and papers, everything from Compeer, to Homes Team to NAMI to Schizophrenia Digest. It’s a friendly space. It says “Come on in! Talk to us! We are professionals and we have “been there”. We can relate to you in a very special way.”

            The Drug and Alcohol treatment field has been employing people with D&A issues for years. Now it’s mental health’s turn. Personally I have been doing this for three and a half years. Every day I learn how to do my job better. I was proud to be able to help show the new CPS’s some of the ropes today. So on my way home this evening I was feeling good. The days are a little longer and we are at least half way through this trying winter.  And it doesn’t hurt that tomorrow is Friday, and payday! Furthermore I am having fun doing some computer dating. At the age of 41 I am having some relationship experiences many people have between the ages of 18-25. At that time I happened to be plunging into the depths of my illness. But it’s never too late. I try to be humble, but some lady is going to get lucky sometime soon.

            I have never been so hopeful about the future. Even in these very difficult economic times I have managed to gather around me an amazing group of family and friends and supportive, caring people. Good people I work with, eat with, study with, perform with and grow with. These are the days of “Friending “people. The days of I-Phones, and Androids. New meds all the time and Glee and Dancing with the Stars. So much going on. Where do I want to be five years from now? “Alive and kickin’!”

            My Senior High School yearbook photo had room for a quote under it. I didn’t add one, but many times I have thought what I might have written.  More than a few people put down that they would like to: “Find that special someone and live life to the fullest”. At the time I thought this was clichéd and simplistic. Now twenty four years later guess what I want to do with my life?  “Find that special someone and live life to the fullest!”

            The year is still young. I had predicted that 2010 would be the year of the “Wolfe” and in many ways it was. (I was one of the MC’s at theMont.Co. Mental Health luncheon, I Spoke before the CHS board of directors, I was the winner of the Mad Poets at Churchill’s contest, I self-published a book of poetry, and maintained a 150-160 lb weight loss) Now I expect nothing less than a breakout year in 2011. I will get into a masters program. I will find true love. I will become a paid performer; I will create in many ways. I will work to overcome my fears and inhibitions. I will truly become a peer specialist extraordinaire. And I will give back a portion of the all the gifts and blessings I have been so generously given.

            I am tired. I think I lived today to the fullest.  Tomorrow I wake up, get myself together, write something pithy on Facebook and go pick up four breakfast burritos at McD’s for my regular Friday meeting with a guy on my caseload. I trust the sun will be shining. In my life these days, it usually is.

This is a speech I am planning to give at the Spring Valley YMCA Friday the 7th of January (weather permitting) as part of a mandatory training.

           Did anyone else here learn to swim at the Y? At the age of four I was a Polliwog at the YMCA in Pottstown. It turns out the thing I like doing most now is swimming. I really enjoy swimming with my mom. She is an avid swimmer. For her 71^st Birthday she swam 71 lengths. The Y has done a lot for my parent’s health.  At the age of 84 my dad works out regularly. Most times when I finish my swim I sit in the hot tub and sing to myself “Tiny Bubbles, makes me feel fine.” I fellowship with the guys in the locker room. After a shower and shave I feel like a new man.

As I thought about this speech, I remembered what it was like to be waiting for the parents of that last child on a Friday evening at Royersford Elementary, watching the clock, anxious to get home and start the weekend. It’s nice to live close to the Spring Valley Y here. I have lived down the road in Royersford most of my life (32 years). I graduated from Spring-Ford high school in 1987 with honors and was the scholar/athlete of the year. I was on top of the world and didn’t know it. I went to Penn State Happy Valley on an academic scholarship and proceeded to fail out in two semesters. I also gained 30lbs.  

                I spent the next ten years trying to find myself and struggled with my weight, relationships and direction in my life. Things began to turn around in 1990 when I began classes at Montgomery County Community College in Blue Bell. I joined the writers’ club and eventually got my associates in 1995. Soon after I graduated from MCCC I decided to be an Art Teacher. I took charge and matriculated at Kutztown University and started to come out of my shell. I began performing at the open mic at the Uptown Espresso bar as the leader of the Uptown Circus, a group of friends who performed there.

                At Kutztown I was focused and studied hard. I also ate hard. I had a rough time during student teaching and ended up graduating with honors but not certified to teach in the public schools. When I came home I answered an ad in the paper for the YMCA. I was hired at the end of September of 2001 as an assistant pre-school teacher and before and after school counselor.  It was just weeks after the World Trade tower attacks and as a precaution we packed plastic crates with provisions in case of further terrorism.  

                For the next five years I worked mostly at the Royersford Elementary as a before and after school counselor , and at the Linfield UCC Wooden Shoe preschool, four years as assistant and one year as head teacher. I learned a lot about kids and almost as much about their parents. I truly enjoyed working and playing with the kids. I worked with some really great people at the Y. The teachers at Linfield taught me about treating each child as an individual, and that each child has their own story. Consistency, I found, was important also. There was the day to day pattern of drop off, hang up coats, circle time, art time, play time, show and tell and bathroom and then snack. Working with people I realized I could never please everyone all the time.

                As most of you probably know, snack time can be a major production. For snack time in Linfield with the 4’s each day a different child would bring in a snack for the whole class. It was often Teddy Grahams, Gold Fish, pretzel sticks or some special treat for a birthday or holiday. The drinks were often jugs of green or orange juice, sometimes apple, and sometimes the dreaded “Juice Boxes” which even the teachers have difficulty opening and putting the straw into.

            One sunny day a child brought in cup cakes and juice boxes for his turn at snack. Around 10:00 I went into the kitchen to set up the table while Miss Rose overlooked potty and hand washing time. I decided to put out the cup cakes (green icing) but keep the juice boxes in the cabinet for going outside sometime.  Further we had open juice containers in the refrigerator.

            As usual almost all the kids licked the icing off the cup cakes and ended up with most of them on their faces and the floor. After tidying up we went back for story time and show and tell. When the parents came to pick up their children we gave back the projects we had done the day before and handed out a worksheet for home work. When they were gone Miss Rose and I began straightening up.

            A few minutes later the mother of the child who had brought in snack that day returned. She walked into the class room looking sour and spoke. “My son is very disappointed. We made a special trip to the grocery store to get a special snack and he spent a lot of effort picking out that special juice. I just wanted you to know about his disappointment.

            I was taken aback. A moment later I said “I apologize and promise to have a special ceremony Wednesday with the special juice boxes.” She seemed satisfied and left. Wednesday that child couldn’t have been happier. It was just juice, but it meant the world to him.                                                                          *******

            Royersford was a great place to grow up. There were plenty of kids to play with and we have always had terrific neighbors.  I went to Royersford elementary in fourth grade after we moved here from the farm house in Graterford. My dad worked at the Graterford state Correctional institution for twenty five years as a social worker/administrator. My sixth grade teacher was Mr. Willauer.

            When I began working at the Royersford elementary Mr. Willauer had become the principal there. I worked under Ms Donna and Ms Marci. I enjoyed the mornings better than the afternoons. I still ate voraciously. Every morning I would scarf down a couple packages of cinnamon brown sugar pop tarts and a StarBucks Frappacino in a bottle. I remember drawing rocket ships and race cars galore for the kids. I remember helping with homework (some of which I struggled with). I recall watching “Sponge Bob” and ‘The Little Vampire” and “Fairly Odd Parents” over and over.

            After I left the YMCA in 2005 I got the idea to become a Certified Nurse’s Assistant. My Dad had been in the hospital with pneumonia and while I visited him I noticed the nurse’s aids doing their jobs. I thought “I can do that.” So I enrolled at Antonellis, studied intensely, and took and passed the Red Cross exam. Within a week or two I had a job. It turned out to be the hardest thing I ever did. I was dealing with anxiety and I still weighed over 350 lbs. I left after about six months with a transfer to the activities department. I thought, I am an entertaining guy. This should be great. Unfortunately it was also extremely difficult for me. I left on good terms.

            But I was at the end of my rope. Once more the hospital played a part in my future. My father was in the hospital again. One night I was visiting him and in the lobby bumped into a lady I knew many years before. At that time I was a client at Creative Health’s partial Hospital program. Oh yeah, by the way, I am a person with chronic paranoid schizophrenia. Handsome, yes. Talented, yes. Funny, yes. But also living with an often daunting mental illness.

            I thought long and hard about disclosing my illness to the public, and to you tonight. One good thing is that I won’t lose my job if they find out about my situation. As a matter of fact a large portion of my job is telling my story and being a role model and an inspiration to those that suffer. 

            The lady I ran into told me about a new program called Certified Peer Support. It’s like someone working as a Drug and Alcohol counselor having a history of drug and alcohol abuse. A certified peer specialist is a person with some sort of mental illness who is working on their recovery and is specially trained to work with “Peers” in a variety of venues. I once more worked very hard and took the training and passed. Soon I was hired at Creative Health Services and I have been happily employed there for three and a half years.

            Around the time I was hired at Creative Health I started losing weight, eventually around 160 lbs. See me later if you want to know how. Let me just say it was simple but not easy and I did it one step at a time. I struggle but have a lot of support. I refuse to go back where I was. And as I heard Oprah Winfrey say: Just when you think you’ve got it, is when you have to watch it.                                                                        

            At times I take for granted that the YMCA will always be there. That the people and facility that help so many will keep on doing their good works. But without people like you and all those who volunteer and donate it could disappear. The YMCA, as my friend Dave says, is “The Mother Ship”, and it truly offers a world of services to people of all walks of life. It was there for me.        

            The YMCA gave me a chance. The YMCA made me feel appreciated. The YMCA gave me a purpose. The YMCA was accepting of my size. The YMCA helped me feel good about myself.  Today I very much appreciate the beautiful facility I belong to. Spring Valley is inspirational. It leads the way for me into the 21^st century. To a more healthy lifestyle.  I’m not there yet. Actually it’s a lifelong process. My future is hopeful as I take care of myself Body, mind and spirit.

Here we are at the beginning of a new year. I don’t wait till New Year’s Day to make my resolutions. It’s time to start right now. I have had a break out year. I spoke in front of my work places board of directors and stole the show. I spoke before 400 people at an awards banquet in May. I won a poetry contest with the Mad Poets Society and self published a book of poetry. Further I will be part of “Writer’s Night” at Steel City Coffee House on Jan. 12^th. A paying gig!

 Thank heaven I have my family, friends and a great job. The other Thursday I performed at Steel City and tore the roof of the place. I want to do that again. I want to excite everyone to keep going like there is no tomorrow. Say you love your kids every day because we aren’t promised tomorrow. I think of a child I looked after back then. He died suddenly and all I could think of was that I rarely said anything nice to him. Every day I give thanks. So I’d like to thank Ann Nelson and Ms Donna, and Ms Marci, and Ms Hannah, and Ms Eileen and Ms Heather, and Ms Elaine and the Ms Jens and Ms Stephanie, and Ms Dori Ann, and Mr. Brett, and everyone else I didn’t mention.

And the future? That’s my little nephew Jamie. He is the most awesome kid. I am taking care of myself partly for him. He needs an Uncle Frank and we trust him to be cared for at the Y. I believe it’s never too late to get healthy again. The YMCA is the cornerstone, because the Y Cares.

Frank Wolfe

12-‘10

Each year, we ask kids in our waiting room to create the ornaments for our tree. Here it is four days before Christmas.

I used to have the audacity to think I could just sit down with pen and paper and create a masterpiece straight off with no edits or re-writes. But writing is hard. It’s a puzzle. It’s a challenge. That’s why I like it.

I used to have the audacity to think I could just go on from day to day and live a masterpiece of a life, with no mistakes or regrets. But life is hard. It’s the greatest challenge: to live a meaningful life, a life of beauty and adventure. To come to the end of it satisfied that one has squeezed from it every drop.

I am at a cross roads. Actually a junction of many roads. I am in the prime of life, but my health is suffering from lack of exercise and poor diet. My work is the highlight of my days, but I need to move up the ladder if I ever hope to support myself and have some sort of family. I want to find someone special. I want to travel. I want to perform in front of large crowds and have them in the palm of my hand. I want to teach. I want to keep giving back. I want to keep making my family proud. I want to go to graduate school. I want to get in shape. I want to go on writing. There are too many directions to go and not enough hours in the day.

No one can do it for me. Even with all the people who love me and support me, I have to do the footwork. I have been feeling like I need someone to hold my hand and carry me towards getting healthy. But no one can save me from my unhealthy lifestyle, and if I go on like this they’ll be saying: “What a waste. Poor Frank was such a good guy.”

This guy wants to be a motivational speaker. I want to help make people feel good about themselves. I want to inspire them to make long term positive changes in their lives. I want to set people on fire for life and find the courage to put themselves on the line for something bigger and better. First, though, I have to get my own house in order.

For me education is the key. I am trying to expand my consciousness and enlarge my world view. “Ignorance is hell”, though dealing with day to day reality (war, disaster, hate, disease etc…) can be overwhelming. So I take it in small doses. In my world I have experienced glimpses of heaven and tidbits of hell. I have decided to do my best to create more heaven. How can I do it?

There’s a place in my life where dreams and the road of life meet; where big ideas, realistic plans and good works come together. It is the Sphere College Project. A venue for making those ideas and plans come true. Sphere is a learning institution for adults who are looking to put what they are passionate about out into the world. It’s small now, but it will grow. All my talents and skills and life experience can come together there. Nothing is wasted. I will help myself to focus on doing the next right thing. And for me the next right thing is Sphere.

Like it or not, the first thing that comes to mind in regards to my motivation these days is finding an intelligent, attractive significant other. Exercising, losing weight, making more money, creating, writing, performing, drawing, educating, swimming, walking, dancing, organizing, driving, facebooking , cooking, taking meds, seeing the Doctor, and trying to be a better person. I am not shallow, but somewhat impatient. At the age of forty one I think of what I am missing. I am yet to look on the computer for a love interest, one of the few areas I seem to procrastinate in.

Second is pain; or the avoidance of it. I work out for less pain. I see my therapist for less pain. I see the dentist for less pain. I am in denial for less pain. I take Advil and brush my teeth with Sensodyne for less pain. I avoid relationships for less pain. I eat to oblivion for less pain. I think about pain for less pain. At the age of forty I can feel the slow decay beginning. Doing the exercises the physical therapist gave me gets me up at five thirty in the AM in the hope of less pain.

Third is the pleasure of doing nice things. I go out in the dark or cold or hot to be around friends and family. I wake up well and open the blinds in my room to get the morning light. I create pieces of art and write because it makes me feel good to make something of beauty. I walk around town (when ankles permit) and revel in my hometown of Royersford. I greatly enjoy conversing with my friends and thinking about deep, meaningful things. I love, because I   would be loved. I do nice things now because there is no tomorrow. I realize these are the good old days and I keep going because things are going well, and I expect them to get better.

I can’t always motivate the peers I work with. I try not to evangelize, rather lead by example.  I guess the old saying “If I can do it, you can do it”, does hold true. But the biggest thing I can do is to not give up. “With life, hope.” It’s never too late.

The IOP Open Mic:

“A Rockin’ Good Time”

          Sometimes things just fall into place. Such was the case for the IOP Mic on Wednesday October 20^th in the Creative Health computer library. Ten performers had worked hard for weeks if not months on their acts. One by one they got up behind the mic and gave it their best.  One of the performers who was at one time a professional musician (Bass Guitar) put together the sound system and then belted out two original songs including “The IOP Blues”. Everyone did a great job. One young lady stole the show with her powerful rendition of The Miley Cyrus tune “The Climb” There was a standing room only crowd and a truly supportive feeling in the room. “Music is the Doctor” and there was a lot of recovery and inspiration shared by everyone.

10-20-10

Fearless

            Could I ever be fearless? What does bravery look like? When disaster strikes, war breaks out, someone close gets seriously ill, or something painful  has to be confronted, (Dentist), I would hope to bite the bullet, damn the torpedoes, and take it on the chin. I would like to be a shining example of accepting life as it comes, with no complaints or “Why me’s? “

            When I was a child I cried and threw a fit if pain or discomfort came my way. But I had loving, caring parents who held me and reassured me there were no monsters in the closet, and that I would always have food to eat and a roof over my head. These days my worries are different. It’s more about my job, the economy, relationships, and setting an example for those I support.

  “A coward dies a thousand times, a brave man but once.” I think I am on my 347^th. And now at the age of forty one I am starting to think of my mortality in a more serious manner. I tell myself not to go to the dentist or grave kicking and screaming. Be strong.

            And I have been strong; strong enough to be myself, and share with the world my illness. Strong enough to open up about the life I have been blessed with, (even on stage). Day after day I wake up and go to work and put myself on the line, emotionally and physically.

Bravery can be crying. Bravery can come and go. It’s a person standing up for the rights of others, while looking out for themselves. It’s visiting that loved one in a nursing home and having it be about them; being a comfort that if the worst happens you will carry on. Bravery is telling yourself things will be all right. It’s telling yourself this, and believing it.

10-10-10

Frank Wolfe C.P.S.

 I graduated from Spring Ford High School in nineteen eighty seven. I was voted scholar athlete of the year and had an academic scholarship to Penn State “Happy Valley”. I remember the day mom and dad dropped me off at Hartranft Hall. My dorm room was number 212 and my roommate was Matthew F. It was the beginning of my adult life, and I proceeded to fail out in two semesters.

I haven’t seen or talked to Matt in twenty two years. He was the last person to know me before I got ill. This is the letter I am writing to him, wherever he is.

Dear Matt,

I always tell people that you were cooler than I was, and I envied your friends. For lack of my own I tried to tag along, but quickly found myself a loner. I also tell people you got me into my favorite band “10,000 Maniacs” and my favorite singer “Natalie Merchant. As you went to see them in concert that first year and came back with two CD’s. Some of the first CD’s I had ever seen.

Within three weeks I had stopped going to classes. I thought I was doing you a favor by being out of the room all night, leaving you to do whatever. I vividly remember the things I did to occupy myself in my time wandering the campus and town. When I saw a movie I would buy a large Mountain Dew and a bag of strawberry Twizzlers. You might remember that was the year of “Dirty Dancing”, “Predator”, “Beetle juice”, and “No Way Out”. I remember thinking I had no way out.

I visited various cafeterias with my meal ticket so as not to be noticed by anyone I knew. I had plenty of money for junk food with three thousand dollars in my MAC account, earned from a summer of landscaping. Almost Home cookies (peanut butter fudge) were my favorite. I ate bag after bag. The vending machines in the dorms offered hundreds of Hershey bars. By the end of my “visit” at PSU, as you probably noticed, I could barely fit into my clothes. What did you think of me?

I did do some things. I read voraciously. I wandered the aisles of Pattee library in the wee hours reading the film reviews in the New Yorker. I read “Gone With the Wind” in one sitting. Flannery O’Connor’s short story “Everything That Rises Must Converge” hit me hard. I ate through the biography of Jim Morrison “No One Here Gets Out Alive” and Huxley’s “The Doors of Perception”. One of the last books I read there was Baldwin’s “The Invisible Man”. I was the invisible man.

Remember when you invited me to dinner with your family at a fancy place just outside of town? I went out and bought a forty dollar silk tie and tried to show off my best manners. I was impressed with your younger brother and his idea for a commercial for high end golf balls. The meal was excellent.

I happen to still have at least five things to show for my time at PSU. That silk tie is hanging right now in my closet. I have an eighty dollar leather shaving kit no one is using. I bought a Kenwood turntable which is gathering dust in my attic, and to go with it one of the last LP’s I ever bought, Michael Jackson’s “Bad”. The fifth thing? A chronic mental illness.

So how are you? Did you marry that girl you were in love with?  And what did you end up doing for a living? I have thought of my time at Happy Valley often. Who knows why things happen the way they do? Back then my dad thought I should get into clinical Psychology or social work. Twenty two years later I am looking into a masters degree in social work.  I haven’t been back to the campus since nineteen eighty eight, and only recently started writing about my experiences there. One of the last things I did was climb mount Nittany. From up there I could see for miles. I truly feel that in my life I have climbed a mountain, and nothing can throw me off. I would really like to talk to you some day. We were roommates, and we remember.

8-30-10

What’s it like, you might wonder, to live with a mental illness?  How about weighing nearly 400lbs? I’m sitting at a Starbucks in a chair I might have broken three years ago. I am drinking a fat free, sugar free beverage as opposed to a frappacino and apple fritter. It’s a bright morning in the middle of August and my mind is being itself. My chronic worrying is in full effect.  Today it’s about a bad tooth that might need an implant, my mom falling down the steps, getting lost finding a party this afternoon, and driving in the ice and snow this winter (yes it’s August). I know the language. A big part of my job as a peer specialist at Creative Health is telling my story.

            Almost anyone, I think, who lives in the Pottstown area knows what it means if I said “He’s going to the “seventh floor”. That’s where the psych ward at Pottstown Memorial Medical Center is located. That’s where I had my first hospitalization 22 years ago, and my most recent (last!!!). I needed to be there, but it’s scary. The food is bad and I wondered if I’d ever get out. But here I am almost, I’d say, better than ever.

My recovery has been incredible. Not only am I living a very meaningful life, in the last four years I have lost about 160lbs, (and am keeping it off). I think it’s an interesting story. Sometimes I look at it like I was undercover. Like the author George Plimpton who got a chance to play for the Detroit Lions football team in order to show in writing, what it’s like to be an NFL quarterback.

            It sucks being 400 lbs. any way you look at it. It’s hard getting down to pick up a paperclip, and harder to walk up the stairs. There is a certain self loathing, and self esteem is in the toilet. I could tell stories about not fitting in the rides at the amusement park. The seat belts in the car that are too short, and only being able to buy clothes at the big and tall store. Little kids sometimes make fun of you, and I wasted thousands of dollars on junk food.

            As for being mentally ill, I am still dealing with disclosure: telling the whole world I am a person with chronic paranoid schizophrenia is daunting. But this blog may help. Interestingly enough, everyone with a mental illness may have their own set of symptoms. Personally I never heard voices, but have had some juicy delusions and paranoia. Early one morning I thought the rising sun was alive. Once I thought I was the last person on earth. Another time I believed I was a multi-millionaire and I could fly (luckily I didn’t try to jump off a roof).At one point I was sure the tree cutting crew around the corner was the Klan preparing to string me up. In the mid nineties I was convinced my favorite singer Victoria Williams wanted to marry me. As far as thinking I am amazingly talented and handsome, there might be some reality in it.

            I have had depression, lethargy, and slept 16 hours a day. I have eaten buckets of chocolate and ice cream and so much at the Chinese Buffet that they asked me to leave. At one time or another I have been scared, hopeless, lonely or manic. Sometimes simultaneously. The lack of motivation, the over medication and sedation, isolation and loneliness were a big part of my life. But now they are mostly relegated to my past. I do sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t gotten ill, or hadn’t gained all that weight. “woulda, coulda, shoulda”.

            Today I have a mission: to bust down the wall of stigma. To give back some of the gifts I have been blessed with and to never stop learning and growing. What’s it like to be me?  It’s a trip. I go from “I am nobody special and just a grain of rice, to I am an incredible person and can change the world.  I guess I’m somewhere in between.

Wolfe 8-15-69

Bette is an amazing lady. For a long time Bette wanted a volunteer job. As a peer specialist I was determined to find her one.  We applied to many different places and did not have any luck. One day Bette’s therapist suggested that we call the pastor of the church that Bette and I both attend; St. James Lutheran Church. Pastor Hutchinson saw the benefits of hiring Bette. He also said I could tag along. So every Wednesday morning Bette conscientiously folds about one hundred and fifty church bulletins. The staff at the church is very kind to Bette and they seem to appreciate what Bette does. I am so very proud of Bette. She truly is an awesome lady.

Vanessa Thompson

C.P.S.

Right now, for me, being a CPS is all about options.  There is no worse feeling for me than to feel trapped. And I think it’s the same for many of the people I work with. Four years ago I was running out of options. I had no job. My health was failing (I weighed close to four hundred pounds) and I didn’t really like myself. In fact I loathed the person I was.

Flash forward to 2010. I have lost 160 lbs. (and am keeping it off). I have the job of my dreams. I have a loving family, and great friends. And with my life experience I can give back a portion of what I have been blessed with. I am a Certified Peer Specialist. A job title I am coming to embrace and be proud of. The following are just a few of the ways I interact with the people on my caseload:

A consumer I work with would like to lose weight. I offer her support and share my personal experience. This week we took a nice walk across town to look at the exhibit at the community college art museum. Another person would like to play his guitar in a rock and roll band. I take him to open mics where he can meet other musicians. A gentleman I work with wants to meet new people. So we worked together to get him a g-mail and facebook account. Someone else would like to quit smoking. I bring her information on plans and local support groups.  When a peer was sad about the loss of a family dog I took her to see some puppies at a pet store. And one consumer I work with is filling out an application to join a local club house and get the support he needs in a proactive way.

My personal options are jaw dropping as compared to just a few years ago. I can consider going back to school. I can work on my book of poetry. I could focus on performing at a variety of venues. I can spend time looking for that special someone. I might take martial arts or dance or painting lessons. There are trips I want to take. There are books I want to read. I might learn a new language. It all boils down to hope and the freedom of recovery.  I’m not cured. Probably never will be.  But one step at a time my world is opening up.

Frank Wolfe C.P.S.

Great News for the Creative Health Community

July 2010

Amy S., a member of Creative Health Services, recently performed on the piano in public. She had not done much work of late, whether paid or volunteer. She just played for peers at Creatiive Health. The chance to give a concert was a great opportunity for this peer, an opportunity to share her talent with an appreciative audience. She played at a retirement community near Pottstown.

The audience sat in rapture as she played. Her repertoire ranged from “Amazing Grace” to “The Star Spangled Banner” to “Jingle Bells.” She also played three or four songs that she composed on the spot. Though her preference is country music – her favorite artist is Tim McGraw- she plays a wide array of genres.

Amy is an accomplished musician. She is a master of writing songs. She has sent some of her work to recording studios and has also tried to have her music published. Though she has not received much encouragement from the studios and publishers, she continues on occasion to send her work in. Her certified peer specialist (CPS) supports her efforts even though the odds may not be with her.

Amy and her peer specialist are working to arrange more performances. So far, Amy has two more dates scheduled. Folks at a third venue want to meet her before they give a nod. Scheduling concerts was fairly straight-forward. Amy’s CPS just called retirement communities listed in the Yellow Pages of the phone book and asked each one if it would like a free concert. About a third of those called expressed an interest.

So far playing in public has been very rewarding for Amy and her CPS. The appreciation shown by the audience before whom she played has given Amy new energy. She is more involved with her music now than she has been in some time. Any CPSs or peers who know musicians or performers might want them to follow the path that Amy has carved

Ed Schwenk A.B., Certified Peer Specialist (CPS)

Creative Health Services, Inc.

11 Robinson Street

Pottstown, PA 19464

610-326-2767

www.creativehs.org

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