Taking Care of Donnie

Donnie is in need of serious psychiatric help.  He has been moved to a new facility.  Yesterday Donnie was put on a new medication called Seroquel.  This medicine is an atypical antipsychotic used to treat schizophrenia and/or bipolar disorder.

Having a fragmented personality, Donnie no longer only hears the voices in his head.  Recently he has started hearing voices on the outside.  Evil, hateful voices which have been instructing him to do harmful things.  Donnie is very confused as he has always had imaginary friends.  He still considers RED, a plastic toy monkey which he received as a present when he was two years old, to have been his best friend.  Losing his best friend, Red in California, over twenty-five years ago is a traumatic experience that still torments him today.
To no avail, Donnie has searched the world over to find another person to take the place of Red.

There are a large number of social workers, psychiatrists, nurses, doctors and a team of professionals that have fallen in love with Donnie and have decided to pour unimaginable amounts of love to make a difference in one precious little boy's life.  They are committed to rebuilding a broken down old man who has no will to live and contemplates suicide in a transformation process that will turn this little ordinary boy into a man who God wants to do extra ordinary things through.

If by chance you ever are interested in contacting Donnie, please feel free to write him at:

Donnie Harbeck
112 W. Cabrillo Blvd.
Santa Barbara, California  93101

In the meantime, I will be taking care of Donnie with a team of incredible medical professionals.  I will try to keep you posted on his progress as much as possible.  We value and covet your prayers.  Donnie just asked me, "Is it a sin to covet prayers?"

"Good Question Donnie", I answered Donnie, "Better ask God that one yourself!"

"Okay, I will."  Donnie said.

Now look what I did.  Now I am going to have to take Donnie to the ocean.  That means I have to walk across the street.

"Oh how He loves you and me!" 

Pinochle

Yesterday I made the mistake of showing Donnie the You Tube broadcast of Susan Boyle singing for the first time on Britain's Got Talent.  With over 75 million views, Susan is now a household name.  Although Donnie is very happy for Susan, he started crying uncontrollably that the same thing would never happen for him.  We had to leave the library at once to avoid further embarrassment for both of us.

Once Donnie settled down, he was quick to remind me that I promised him that we would do something FUN that he wanted to do.  What a predicament I put myself in.  Fortunately for me, one of the patients at Donnie's "VA version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" came up with the solution.  Douglas suggested that we play two handed pinochle.  I wish you would have been there to see Donnie's eyes light up.  He was so excited.  A little perturbed that Douglas had said two handed instead of three handed but Donnie does not understand that I am the only one who sees him.   We had tried to play four handed pinochle several times but the fourth player was kicked out of the "prison" for violation of the rules.  Donnie could never figure out why Douglas, Josh, he and me could not play.  He also could not understand how you can kicked out of "prison" for breaking the rules.  Donnie asked, "Don't you get put in prison for breaking the rules not for obeying them?"  I just chuckled.

I asked Douglas to briefly go over the rules again.  Donnie was happy to be sitting on my lap just as he used to sit on his Grandma Harbeck's lap while she played.  Grandma Harbeck never played two handed. Only four handed.  She was an incredible card player.  She even taught Donnie how to play.  One of his fondest memories would be when someone needed to step out for a bit, Grandma H would allow Donnie to be the fourth player.

With Donnie in my lap, Douglas and I began playing two handed pinochle.  The three of us had a wonderful time.  We would have played all night long but curfew on Saturday is eleven pm so we were "encouraged" to finish up our last hand and head for bed.

I thought everything was wonderful.  Donnie started to crash and burn.  Donnie started missing his Grandmother so much that he wanted to die so he could go to heaven to be with her.  The last time he had played pinochle was when he was with his Grandmother.  One of Donnie's favorite things to do is to play cards.  He continued to tail spin as his favorite card game is ROOK.  He vowed never to play ROOK again here on earth because of a traumatic family event.  Donnie even buried his ROOK cards in his cousin Steve's coffin because Steve was the only one who ALWAYS made himself available to play cards.  One of Donnie's favorite memories is playing cards with his brother Ron, his cousins Steve and Bill. Donnie wishes he would just die so he can be in heaven with Steve and play cards for all eternity.  Grandma Zoch was always ready and willing to play any game we chose.  She is in heaven too.  Three of Donnie's favorite relatives are in heaven.  Melancholy continued to draw Donnie into a deeper and deeper depression.  I tried to keep his hysteria and crying under control, but as one patient after another began to snore, I knew that our secret was safe for at least one more night.

As Donnie laid there trying to cry himself to sleep, I contemplated that maybe Tracy was right and that I should have checked myself into the VA West LA psychiatric ward.  Between Donnie crying, my contemplating, the patients' snoring and the noises of being on one of the busiest street on a Saturday night, we did not get much sleep.  Morning came and we were too tired to get out of bed.  Afternoon came and we were still too tired to sleep.

I am not sure if I convinced Donnie to get out of bed or Donnie convinced me.  However, between the both of us, we decided to take a walk to the library.  As we walked past bar after bar, we were so thankful not to be tormented in being in those establishments forced  to watch football at record levels of loud volume.  As we walked past places that served brunch, Donnie found himself missing Kelly and Linda.  The last brunch he served was with them.  Oh the memories of Santa Marghareto Pinot Grigio!  As we continued to walk up Main Street, Donnie saw a purse that Alissa would have to have.  Coach has an incredible purse on sale from $595 to $295.  Oh the days of wine and roses!

Although Donnie thinks he is cursed, I assure him that we are blessed.  Although we are homeless, jobless and broke, I remind him to remember the song his Grandma Zoch used to sing to him.  Count Your Blessings!  Whether it be a "nuthouse" or "prison", we have a place to stay.  We have a job at Culinary Staffing Services in LA that we can not get to and we have a job at Pure Joy Catering that just went into their slow season.  We must NOT forget that we are applying for a job that Donnie has wanted all his life.  We are applying to work at the Santa Barbara zoo.  Although I will have to convince Donnie that we can not talk to and pet the animals but that we may be able to feed them, he is already arguing with me.  "That's not true!" he said. "I already talked to, pet and fed the giraffes."

"Count Your Blessings!"  Grandma Zoch sings in the memory of Donnie's mind.

"I live next to the Pacific Ocean in a beautiful city called Santa Barbara.  Even the name reminds me of my Aunt Barbara who made a deal with God to stay here on earth one extra year to be with her family after the death of her son, Michael who had tried to fly home from California to be with her during her surgery with cancer.  God answered her plea/prayer.  Almost one year from that date, she told everyone that it was now time for her to be with Michael and she died.  God has me here for a reason.  Maybe I need to spend some more time by the ocean and commune with God.  My friends and family want me to get the help I need.  Uncle Sam and the three psychiatrists I am working with will decide where that will be.  Whether I stay in Santa Barbara or return to West LA, I am a blessed little boy!"  Donnie continues to count his blessings.

I am certain that Donnie and I will see a dove on the walk back to what we now call home.  A dove is God's reminder to us that Grandma Zoch is still watching over us.  If we see two doves, we will know that Steve is with her.  If we see a deck of ROOK cards, Donnie might just "freak out"!  Hopefully, we can find Douglas and play pinochle again tonight!

Saturday in Santa Barbara

I am convinced that Donnie is a child between the ages of five and eight trapped in an old, broken down fifty-three year old body.  The strange thing is I believe Donnie created me to help make sense of his disassociative disorder, bi polar depressive, paranoid, delusions of grandeur personality.  Sometimes I find him to be so completely "complex and complicated".

Today I find him to be so simple and lovable.

Although we barely slept last night, Donnie wanted to return to the ocean.  Only minutes away from where we are staying, I felt like I was his big brother as I carried him on my back.  Donnie feels closest to God when he is near the ocean.

After a short amount of time, Donnie asked what time it was.  When I told him it was eleven am, he insisted we hurry over to the Gracie Barra Jiu-Jitsu Academy.  There was a Family Class at eleven and an adult class at twelve.  What interested me most was that Donnie wanted to attend the eleven o'clock class that had the children at it.  While I was watching a child who stopped participating in the class return to his mother's lap, a little light went on in my mind. As I sat outside the facility on the bench, I noticed that Donnie was doing the same thing.  He wanted to be in the class but he was afraid.

I was very interested in attending the class at noon with the adults.  Donnie was no where to be found.  Moments later, I saw that he had run off to play with the other kids.  Calling him to return to the bench, he begrudgingly complied.  Now I must figure out a way to earn money so we can attend these classes.  It would be a great way for us to healthy physical touch, exercise and discipline.

Donnie did not want to go but I insisted we go to the library.  He is looking at the fish in the aquarium while I jot some thoughts down here.  I promised him we would go and do something FUN that he wanted to do.

Saturday in Santa Barbara!

Five Hours of Observation

It was only supposed to be an informal meeting with the VA representative.

Donnie decided to show up instead of having me speak on his behalf.

Donnie ended up being hysterical, manic and inarticulate.

The VA representative called in a psychiatrist to decide our fate.  Tracy thought the best decision would be for me to return to the West LA VA hospital and be admitted to the psychiatric ward for further observation.

Jeff, the psychiatrist met with Donnie and myself.  Donnie was scared and confused.  I explained our situation to the doctor and assured him that I would be able to manage both of us.

I met with Mark, the CEO of the facility, Crystle, the program director and Adam, the facility coordinator.  Donnie was too scared and hid.  He is afraid of being kicked out of this facility.

After five hours of observation and many phone calls, the decision was 3 pro and 2 con as to my staying in Santa Barbara. I will meet with a new psychiatrist at the VA Clinic in Santa Barbara this coming Tuesday and we will determine where the best facility for our continued care will be.

With a sworn promise to each of the five individuals that we would do no harm to ourselves, we were given phone numbers, permission to return to the psychiatric ward in West LA at any time, and wished to have a relaxing and peaceful weekend.  Donnie felt stupid and felt bad for scaring and taking up so much of their time, especially on a Friday.

I knew that God and my Uncle Sam truly loved and cared for us!

WARNING

Please be advised that every transmission whether by email, text or voice mail is being monitored by the United States Government, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the Office of Special Investigations.  In lieu of my security clearance, many of my impulsive actions and my past experiences, it has been decided that I am a concern regarding national security.  Any comments that you make may cause your being included in the monitoring and current investigation.  Please consider yourself duly warned.  I will not repeat this warning again.

The Emmys

Donnie lives in his own little world.  An imaginary one.  Like Cinderella, I will often find him sitting in a corner singing, "In my own little corner, in my own little world, I can be whoever I want to be..."

Now that my personality has split, it is easy for me to see Donnie in a new light.  Donnie REALLY wants to win an Emmy.  I have actually found a speech that he wrote as his acceptance speech.  One which insists that he was completely taken by surprise.  He is so funny.

This year Donnie merely wanted to attend the Emmys.  He is a huge fan of Jane Lynch and the television show GLEE.  He continually plots different ways to be the substitute teacher for Will Schuster.  The sad thing is Donnie can not act.  He is one of the worst actors I have ever met.

I had the opportunity to be a server at the Emmys this year.  I actually received a call from the manager of Culinary Staffing Services.  Dan Stone knew how much I would have loved to be there.  I did not tell Donnie that "The Prison" refused to let us go back to LA County to the Nokia Theatre.  They said it was too far and that "Donald" would not be back in time for curfew.

Reality is Donnie remained in bed most of Sunday.  He was SO depressed because all the inmates wanted to watch football.  If he mentioned that he wanted to watch the Emmys, certainly many of the "patients" would have thought or said  he was a "faggot".  We all know that homosexuality makes Donnie suicidal and we would not want that.

Sometimes I think I made a mistake by not taking Donnie to the Emmys.  I could have worked and made money and Donnie could have lived one of his dreams.  He would never had to have known that he was not one of the guests of honor.   We would have been dressed in a tuxedo.  We could have kept that a secret just between you and me.  I thought it was a better idea that Donnie have a roof over his head whether it was "His prison" or "psych ward".

I can hear Donnie now, "Where in Santa Barbara does Ellen live?  Maybe if she becomes my friend, she will invite me as her guest when she hosts the Emmys?" 

Split Personality

"The Prison" that I live at insists that I be called Donald W. Harbeck.  That fact alone has caused my personality to split in two.  All the negatives that Donnie hates about himself are triggered by the fore mentioned name.  As John Thomas, I believe it is my responsibility to take care of  Donnie.  Truly only I know what is best for this mentally disturbed individual.

Years ago, Donnie was in therapy with one of the best psychiatrists in the world named Dr. Harold Mozak, the fore most authority on Adlerian psychology.  He truly believed that the world revolved around him.  Donnie was larger than life.  When Dr. Mozak told Donnie that the world REALLY did not revolve around him, Donnie said, "At $200.00 dollars an hour, it most certainly does!"  Dr. Mozak NEVER took a dime from Donnie just to prove his point.

Over a decade later, Donnie has come to the realization that truly the world does not revolve around him.  It revolved before he was born, it will revolve after he is gone, and the hardest part for Donnie to face is that it makes no difference whether Donnie is here or not.  Donnie wanted to be one of the extra ordinary people in the world.  The truth is he is just an ordinary guy.  That truth is not setting him free but causing him to tail spin in a suicidal spiral heading strait for hell.

When I asked Donnie what he was feeling, he cried, "I am living in hell on earth, how much worse can hell be?"  I understand that Donnie is hyper sensitive.  For one reason or another, Donnie is looking for Jesus to hold, hug and comfort him.  For over a half century, Jesus has refused to do that.  In the meantime, I as John Thomas, have self appointed myself to be God's messenger to do just that.

Donnie feels closest to God when he is by the ocean.  Today, I will hold, hug and comfort this precious little boy until Jesus decides to return or it is time to return him to "the prison" or the "VA version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" as he calls it. 

My Mental Health is Deteriorating

There are no longer any expectations of having anyone read this.  I write, only for the reason of trying to maintain the little sanity that I have left.  The truth of the matter is that my mental health is deteriorating.

First, my entire left side of my body is in chronic pain.  There is constant throbbing in the back of my brain like a remote control that is broken and continues to change channels, pause, and then change the channel again.  Over and over.  Day and night.  With no money, I am unable to see the chiropractor who would be able to adjust my neck, back and hip.  My heart hurts.  Not from the broken heart valve but from being unable to receive love from any human being.  My only two sources of love were Baby and Clyde and I have no idea where there are.  Last I knew they were in LA county.  I now live in Santa Barbara County.

My legs do not work anymore.  With the tremendous pain in my left hip, I hobble and stumble around like the local town drunk.  Unfortunately, I am sober.  My equilibrium is gone so often the muscles in my leg go out and I fall to the pavement.  The only good news is that I have relief from the hammer toe that presses against the callous on my little baby toe which causes me to wince with each step I take.

That is only the physical.  What concerns me the most is that my mental health is deteriorating.  I no longer wish to be alive.  With my last psychotic break, I have lost touch with reality.  My delusions of Grandeur have me living in the VA version of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and in the prison scene from "Chicago".  I can only see the two female managers as Nurse Ratchet and the Warden.  I asked to live in Ventura and Uncle Sam sent me to Santa Barbara.

I am in a living Hell.   I live in the most beautiful wine country in America and I am forbidden to ever drink a drop of wine ever again.  They even protest to my partaking in the Eucharist at my local Catholic church.  Failure to maintain complete sobriety are grounds to have me back on the streets. homeless again.  Living in their prison even forbids me to receive mail at the address.  Even today, I was denied a library card.  The librarian suggested I use a family or friends address.  The problem is I have no friends or family in Santa Barbara.  Actually, I do not know anyone at all in Santa Barbara.  Well, Ellen Degeneres but that is just another delusion of grandeur of mine.

Last Saturday, I had almost no energy to get out of bed at all.  I managed to do one thing.  I walked, well, stumbled to the local Rite Aid to get a nail file.  After eating dinner, I returned to wait to die in my bed, only to have one of the 24 inmates in my dorm tell me that I should just kill myself and he left a razor blade stuck in the wood of the railing of my bunk bed.

Sunday was almost no different.  I returned to the Rite Aid to purchase a Master lock.  Nurse Ratchet told me if they did not have a copy of the key to my locker that my lock would be cut off.  One of the female inmates told me to jump off the ledge of the balcony that I was sitting on.  I contemplated.

Monday was the nightmare at the California DMV.  After Catholic charities was kind enough to give me a voucher for a state ID.  I was informed that I needed $162.00 for my California plates.  $59.95 for the Admissions test which I will fail.  God only knows how much money it will cost me to get the repairs needed to turn off the three engine lights on my dashboard.  If I did not have the money for the state ID, where do they expect me to find the money needed for the vehicle to be in compliance with state code.  My Buick Century is REALLY my house not my car.  The prison that I live at will not let me exceed the locker compartment for storage they have given me.  Imagine everything you own to be stored in your car and the stress and fear that your car will be towed and impounded.  Once towed, the fines will continue to be added up and I will be put in a different prison for failure to pay.  I am unable to sell the car as it does not meet California code.  The stress is TOO much for me.

Tuesday instead of looking for work, I was so exhausted from sleep deprivation that I went to the Santa Barbara zoo.  My bunk is next to the exit light and the bathroom.  Having 24 guys up and down all night long going to the bathroom keeps me up.  Being light sensitive, I barely sleep because of the exit sign light and the bathroom light going off and on.  However, the main source of sleep deprivation comes from the over one half dozen men who snore like monsters.  One is next to me, another below me, and another across from me.  I am in hell.  At the zoo, I had the delusion of grandeur that I was Dr. Doolittle and almost climbed into the lion cage to pet the lions.  I just wanted to talk to them.  A zoo employee started a conversation with me.  Maybe it was one of God's angels sent to protect me.  Who knows?

Wednesday I had an Incredible lunch at Casa Esperanza.  After leaving, I seriously thought about walking in front of the Amtrack train and just ending it all.  As the train raced past me, I felt that I had chosen poorly as I stood and watched the train pass me by just as I have watched my life pass before my eyes.  Although pathetic as it may be, I just want to die.  There is no wife, children and grandchildren in my future.  Homosexuality makes me suicidal.  Six months and I am unable to find a job.  Exhausted, I just went back to the zoo.  Not to talk to the animals.  Just to sleep.

How I dream of sleeping and never waking up again.

Eternal rest until Jesus comes back.

My dream is merely a nightmare.  Today is Thursday and  I have punished you by having you read this mess.

By the way, how was your week?



I hope and pray it was much better than mine.

Happy Labor Day

I spent the day going from Malibu beach to Santa Monica beach and then to Venice Beach.

What a wonderful way to spend Labor Day this year!

How did you spend Labor Day this year?