(8-20-18) Sadly, mental illnesses never take a vacation, but I do. One final week before I return to work. I’ll be back then with posts, but right now I have to drive a buddy of mine who is waiting. She is impatient. Have a great day and thanks for your support and advocacy.
(8-3-18) Earlier this week I posted a blog written by a mother who had lost contact with her daughter. Bob Carolla, who many of us know from his work as a peer advocate and former senior writer in media relations at NAMI’s national office, immediately sent me a link to this Washington Post story by one of my favorite writers, Terrence McCoy, who often writes about mental illness. Bob urged me to share it with other parents who have a missing loved one. Thanks Bob. (NAMI offers advice here about what to do if someone you love is missing. If you have found a missing loved one or have advice please offer it on my Facebook page.)
She’d given up hope of finding her son with schizophrenia. Then came a call from an unknown number.
Few homeless people drift into Dolan Springs, Ariz., because there’s not much of a town to drift into. Little more than a gas station, a Family Dollar and a grocery store, it’s a splash of half-civilization in the middle of the desert, where 36 percent of residents live below the poverty line. So when Patience Matthieu, a thin woman of 31 years, saw a new homeless person in March, asking for food, she stopped and watched him. He looked just like her cousin, if that cousin had some teeth knocked out. What was he doing all the way out here?
Matthieu could tell something wasn’t right with him. He said he wanted to tend lawns, but this was a desert town. He said he was living in a tunnel, but where? So she decided to help. She brought him clothing, got him some canned food, and offered to split her earnings made from selling a few odds and ends at a swap meet. As he grew to trust her, she asked him how she could contact him, and, hesitatingly, he gave her his full name. She went home and, curious, punched it into Google: Christopher Aaron Moreland.
The results introduced Matthieu to the pained digital world of families searching for relatives, many of whom are severely mentally ill. In one more facet of life upturned by technological change, families are increasingly adopting the digital tools of 2018 to find vanished loved ones, in addition to the missing posters and federal registries of the past. They’re creating Facebook pages proclaiming their relative is missing, then sharing it. They’re crowdsourcing information. They’re trying to make posts go viral and sometimes succeeding.
The search ultimately led Matthieu to a group called Missing & Homeless, a Facebook community that, in three years, has gone from a few hundred followers to about 43,000, helping to reconnect around 45 families. The results of those reunions have been mixed. Some have been joyous — hugs and tears and an end of homelessness. Others have been wrenching. Families sometimes learn their loved ones want to stay on the streets, and, worse, their homeless relatives may not even recognize them.