Like serving in an old World War I diesel submarine that’s been depth-charged and is laying at the bottom of the ocean, the claustrophobic, re-circulated air, and little hope of the county jail provides a close estimation of your fellow prisoner under pressure. This morning I witnessed someone “who obviously has Mental Health issues” scream profanities at a nurse. Uhg! With some quick conflict resolution on the nurse’s part the malcontent sailor was promptly taken to another part of the submarine. Watching her on the front lines of this country’s Mental Health Epidemic was like watching a composer write symphonies in subsonic tones, or a poet inscribe sonnets in invisible ink. An unsung hero in this dark realm. A rockstar! Who could voluntarily work in a building whose ceilings are obstructed by black tumultuous clouds constantly threatening?
Having been diagnosed with type-1 bipolar I know the importance of medication, “especially at the bottom of the ocean.” For those of us who can surface the dangerous waters of jail has most of us swimming towards the tiny desolate islands of ourselves. Sheriff Departments who run our nation’s County Jails are completely unprepared for the task of responding to the Mental Health Epidemic that faces our Justice System. Not only is there no training in recognizing and assessing prisoners who are symptomatic their draconian use of force to instill order contrasts sharply with the accepted practices currently being pushed forward in Justice Reform Legislation.
In a system of self-serving checks and balances the level of policing brutality “especially framed against the canvas of Mental Health Awareness” is chilling. The indifferent violence used against myself and my fellow sailors here would make those guards who stood on the train platform at Auschwitz blush. It’s afternoon now and the nurse is back with a smile on her face. Wow! I wonder if she knows what that small display of humanity does for us forlorn prisoners?
Mongoose Distro 