Writing from my Son, Steven

Writing from My Son, Steven

by Felicia McCarty

The following is another 'writing' sent home to me by my son, Steven Jenkins, a patient at Patton State Hospital, San Bernardino, CA.

Inside the Mind of a Madman in an Insane Asylum.

They're all around me, spearing my soul, like a double edged sword. There is no peace, here ... only spiritual torment; the UNdead, watching my every move.

I am unable to find out the true reality of my situation. I am trapped like a rat in a cage. My reason for living, long ago forgotten, I pace back and forth, going nowhere, always ending up where I began. Once, I thought I had a purpose in life. Now, all I see is madness all around me. Oh! How I long for the solitude of my long ago freedom. Then, I watch the world through my visions, and realize there is no place out there for a man like me. I'm 45 and have been in asylums for over half of my life. As far as I'm concerned I would have been better off if they had killed me. My own thoughts are not mine, and my heart is on loan.

As for the many souls who are locked up with me, they also try to hide their torment. Life passes us un-noticed. Where once we 'were', and forever forgotten, we clutch to a hand-hold of straw. We pass through our lives unseen by the world that trapped us here. We live in a world that's not our own. We are 'refuse' of life, with no way to return. Once we 'were.' Society's guilt is upon our backs, we are mankind's escape goats. We are some of the many who spend their lives groveling in the mire of the world. We fight ourselves not to clench our fists in our ungodly rage. We hold our tongues, so as not to be crucified, and strapped to ourselves in a bed. Our wills are broken, our minds TAKEN, and we are spiritually raped. Once, I had a life. Now, I'm a mental slave. They program my mind and send me on my way. It is as if I have no will of my own. Maybe someday I can re-program myself and leave this all behind. Because of my own pride, I lost my soul 'to-the-system."

Above are his own words. I did some of the punctuation. (He has a 9th grade education and no further education while incarcerated these past 24 years. He finished his writing with this message:

"Dear Mother, this took me 2 weeks to write over and over again till I got it right. Love Steve"

I have struggled to keep his 'hope' alive. I have encouraged him to write his feelings out and to draw his unique cartoons and send them home. I have promised him that I would somehow manage to complete a book around his life and my life: both of us having traversed through those insipid tunnels of state hospitals, and we both 'know' in our minds and spirits the abject evil within the places. I was pulled up and out of that pit. I hold the faith that he will also be pulled up and out of it.

If any of the readers of these postings would like to write to him I have his permission to ask for letters and cards of encouragement. Neither of us is good at asking for help and assistance, but I realize I have given an abundance, over the years, helping and assisting countless others, and doing this sacrificially, without payment. I have traversed the often solitary advocacy/activist trail. So, anyone who feels inspired to write to him, please do so? You need not give your street address. Only a P.O. Box or general delivery. No need for the 'system' to have your physical address. Agreed?

Best wishes to ALL who read this. God SPEED you all on this most difficult journey in mental health advocacy. Words cannot, at this moment, aptly express the deepest of pain and utter frustration that I have endured, and the pain that I know far too many others have endured on similar journeys. I hold to the faith and therein is 'hope.' Address:

Steven Jenkins
3102 E. Highland Avenue, Ward 21
Patton State Hospital
Patton, CA 92369

This ain't an easy journey, folks! I could use a little encouragement, too! THANKS!

- Written by a mother suffering through the trials of her son in institutions

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