Ronnie works at a sandwich shop, about 45 hours a week when he feels well . . . when he doesn’t, he can only manage 20 or so, and that is if his manager helps him perform his job.  He has not been fired because there aren’t enough workers at $11/hour, AND they met and came to care about him when he was on medication, and they love that guy.  He is funny, witty, intelligent, sensitive, and musical.  Ronnie is my son.

Unfortunately, Ronnie stopped taking his meds about 3 months ago, and everything in his life has gone downhill, again. He isn’t making enough to pay his subsidized rent and can’t seem to organize himself enough to get the quarters needed to do his laundry or plan nutritious meals.  He can’t afford to cook nutritional meals for himself, and figuring out how to do so without a stove makes life even more complicated.

Then there are also the invasive thoughts bringing back all his worst memories daily.  He is guarded, paranoid, mistrustful, and obsessed with staying clean.  Ronnie is not his real name, but he, too, is my son, unmedicated.

Ronnie is 36, has three children, has two years of college, and has lived a lifetime of poverty, except for when he got that great-paying job in a factory.  He worked hard, and he worked a lot.  By the time he was 22 years old, he had bought a home and a car.  That all happened before his symptoms started becoming a noticeable problem, and he lost his job, then his home, then his car, then the ability to see his children. 

Trauma was an unfortunate and seemingly unavoidable part of his life.  Ronnie was just 3 years old when his five-year-old brother died.

The next tragedy came six months later when his newborn sister, Annette, was born at 28 weeks and then, 34 days later, died. Two sibling deaths in 6 months is tough for any three-year-old. The whole family was overwhelmed by grief.  Ronnie and the other children woke up screaming every night and ran to our bed crying, “Just go dig her up, Mommy!” We were overwhelmed by grief, hopelessness, poverty, and the cycle of abuse. We had four surviving children to care for, so instead of focusing on getting better, we were focused on survival.

When Ronnie was six years old, the sexual grooming by a family member who lived with us began. It was not until he was 10 years old that I discovered the abuse that was happening. I took immediate action and had the person arrested and removed from the home permanently. I pursued victim’s recovery treatments for a few years until they were no longer available. The damage was deep and permanent.

Some time in his 20’s, Ronnie’s symptoms turned into voices that nobody else could hear. They were telling and making him feel and see things that nobody else could detect. There have been many diagnoses since then, some of them contradictory.  There was a scuffle with the perpetrating family member, which ended up in the first arrest for Ronnie. 

Then, there was another incident with the elderly woman with whom Ronnie lived. He was self-medicating to quiet the voices and other triggers. She supplied the pills and booze even though I begged her to help me get him OFF those wrong medications (which he was being prescribed). One night, after Ronnie had consumed the pint of Everclear (95% alcohol) purchased for him after he ran through his Adderall prescription, he became unmanageable.

By the end of that evening, Ronnie was in jail on the charge of assault of the elderly woman (felony) when he pushed her to get away from him, and she fell. She was not injured.

Instead of taking Ronnie to the local mental health crisis intervention hospital, police took him straight to jail. Ninety-nine days later, he was released on a mental health plea bargain that I was able to help his attorney pursue. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go to prison for the 17 years with those charges.  As an adult, he was not forced to allow my intervention or comply with medication and psychiatric recommendations by the doctors until that plea bargain. He felt trapped and couldn’t figure out how to get out. Aderol was easier to come by than the right treatment or recovery. He was addicted. 

I am Ronnie’s mother, I have been here his whole life, and I must wonder how many of the tragedies and judgments he has suffered are either directly or indirectly connected to the fact that he is Latino. The older he gets, the more Latino he looks. He keeps his hair shaved so that the curliness and texture of it will not give him away when he needs to “pass for white” to get through social, legal, and medical interactions unscathed.

I also wonder if my white privilege did not play a significant role in convincing prosecutors to offer a mental health track plea bargain.

A year later (fall, 2023) . . .

We appeared in front of a judge for an involuntary (psychiatric) commitment hearing. Thankfully, he agreed to go to the hospital with no dramatic incidents (which could have landed him back in jail).

As I write this article, I am unsure whether he will be released with or without the long-acting injection treatment for his diagnosis. I have no idea whether the insurance policy my husband (who is not Ronnie’s father) pays for will cover his treatment.  I have no idea whether he will be allowed to return to the outpatient addiction and mental health treatment center where he lives . . . or if he will be homeless again.

Over 50% of prisoners have been diagnosed with either bipolar disorder or schizophrenia. It is obvious to me that the greater good is better served by helping the vulnerable become stronger and the ill become healthy. My son is one of those people who ended up in the system because of trauma-triggered mental illness and lack of appropriate, timely intervention by medical staff who should have seen the signs of addiction.

How many of us must perish because of trauma (the sins of others) or neglect (the sins of the system)? Why do we not consider medical and mental healthcare a question of basic dignity, particularly in one of the wealthiest developed nations in the world?

I often hear the argument, “That is socialism!” from church folk. Church folk should also ask if the Acts 2 church was practicing “socialism” or if we conveniently use that polarizing term to falsely claim righteousness in our toxic individualism.

The New Testament church practiced voluntary sharing of their excess where there was any need in the faith community.  Individualism says, “What’s mine is mine; I earned it by myself! You have no reason to expect that I, having an abundance, should give you something you need. My abundance is for my consumption. And if the government shall tax me to help the ‘least of these,’ I shall call that socialism too.”

Another year later (fall, 2024) . . .

Ronnie has done well on the monthly injections that quiet the voices and help him function at his $11/hr full-time job. He maintains his own subsidized apartment, continues therapy, and is being considered for an early release from probation . . .

I don’t know where he will go or how he will be able to pay rent when he can no longer live at the treatment center housing. I am worried.

Ronnie will need some kind of assistance to stay stable for the rest of his life unless there is a medical and psychiatric miracle.  He cannot “fix” himself.

I am 60 now, and my son will likely outlive me. Who will help him stay on the stable, healthy path when I am gone?

I pray that the community that is larger than a single family will help make sure that Ronnie and others in need of mental healthcare and lifelong supportive living assistance will remember our painful story as we vote this year.