To be around George is to be around intelligence and intensity. George sees and feels the world deeply; he finds meaning in everything. The Carson Center’s psychiatrist worked carefully with George over a long period of time to find the medication and dosage that would allow him to function, not to be overwhelmed by the constancy and intrusiveness of all his thoughts, the periods of dark sadness, and yet to preserve the sensitivity that marks who George is in the world. His Carson Outreach worker and therapist also work to help George find his balance in his unique way.
On a fine early fall day, George’s Outreach worker, Sam, found George waiting for their appointment to fill out paperwork for fuel assistance for the coming winter. George was clearly lost in thought, staring at the tree next to him. Sam sat next to George and waited.
“The leaves are tired.” said George. “They are letting themselves turn to flame, getting ready to let it all go and leap into the earth soon enough. No more bud sized promises all busting with hope, no more exhaustingly gorgeous blooms…when I noticed the traces of winter just now, I wanted to reassure the tree, but then of course, she is reassuring me about the winter to come…let’s go fill out those fuel assistance papers!”
It took awhile for Sam to get used to George. Sam could see why George would get lost in his reflections and not follow through on the tasks that would keep his life going. How was his bank balance? Were there enough groceries to make it through the day? Wasn’t he going to apply for that volunteer position at the library? George saved up his insights to share with Sam—he even wrote notes; but he wouldn’t follow through on his goals because he believed then he would lose his epiphanies, and they were precious to him—they gave his life meaning.
“Make them, then!” suggested Sam, one day. “Then you can put them aside and later you can show me what they look like. That way, you can spend the rest of your time on your goals.”
George loved this idea. When Sam showed up at the next visit, George showed Sam the helium red white and blue balloons that he’d gotten at the dollar store. He’d fastened to them a hanging figure he’d made—a rag covering a tennis ball, a desperate expression drawn on the ball’s “face”. This was George’s representation of the stress on the average American worker following the “radical redistribution of wealth over the past thirty years, which began with the inflationary period following the fake oil embargo in the 1970’s” once they admired the work together and discussed it, George was able to leave the thought and his creation in its place so he could take his next steps in his life.
Many months went by where George worked through his thoughts by making things of them, and also worked slowly towards living a satisfying, independent life in the community.
“Sam! Sam! Come in! Wait till you see! I was thinking about what I’ve been talking about in therapy about being put into foster care and then, well look!”
Sam had transformed the main living area of his apartment. There were bouquets of flowers, pictures of dogs and cats and smiling children made into collages and tacked into the walls.
“I’ve been thinking Sam!”
“You, George? “ Sam teased.
Listen! What if some version of reincarnation were true? Then my very being would be braided with the love of countless good mothers, friends, brothers, sisters, cousins, and fathers. Your every step would be lifted by the gratitude of all those royal cats and plebian dogs you served, the cranky children who grew in your care, all the neighbors you forgave. The great crowding goodness would grow in each hair on your thoughtful head, every pore of our smiling faces…I’m more than the sadness of my past, George. I feel like I have so much more room inside.”
Together they stood and looked at what George had created. “Do you think it’s good? George asked Sam.”
“Oh, I think it’s beautiful.”
By JAC Patrissi
