I’ve never written anything like this before — not in the 33 plus years I’ve been publishing The Zephyr. Not ever. It’s personal and it’s painful; it’s about mistakes I have made, and regrets I will carry to my grave. It’s about loss and and unexpected events in our lives, and how we deal with them. We all seek our own paths — some find comfort with family and friends. Others turn to their church. Some try to ride it out on their own….still others seek “professional help.”
In the context of this story, it’s also a cautionary tale –– a warning to all of you about the mental health system in this country and how badly it can be abused, intentionally or unintentionally, by the people who oversee and manage that system. I believe that mental health services, when professionally administered by people with true consciences and a genuine concern for their patients, can be of great comfort to those dealing with grief and despair–the pain that can create serious emotional problems. But it can also be abused. It can cause even more damage to the very individuals the mental health “professionals” claim they are trying to help.
Everything you are about to read is true…
